i need it.

why am i writing?
i don’t know.
i need to.
i need to.
it sounds right.
it sound nice.
i need an outlet.
i need a place.
this mind grows tired, its walls ache, stretched by thoughts that never get out.
they push and push and push against the boundaries you set for them.
why did you do that?
oh, i’m talking to you again.
i guess that was inevitable.
who else do i talk to?
who else always listens?
sometimes i feel like a crazy person, but most of the time i just feel as normal as i could ever feel.
it’s feels normal talking to you.
it feels like home.
you’re always listening.
thanks for that.
i guess this is more of a journal entry than a blog post.
will i post this?
i don’t know.
i’m not certain it matters.
i’ve never understood people who are afraid to let people see their faults, their life as it actually is, their fears.
but then again. that was me once.
but you set me free from all that.
you broke me, and you broke me free.
i love being open with people.
i love being open because you’re inside, so whenever i’m open people see you.
at least, i hope.
i want people just to see who you are to me, who you really, really, are to me.
i literally could not do this life without you.
you are the very best friend i could ever have asked for.
i remember when i was young, about 13 or 14, and i was heartbroken, hurt, and lost, because i felt unwanted, helpless.
i felt that no one was really, truly, my best friend.
but you are that to me now.
you really are.
you know, i really want to talk to someone.
i feel it’s been far too long since i just was able to spill everything, everything, everything out in the space between my heart and another’s.
those times are better than gold.
they’re better than dreams.
those times are made by you.
i just want to sit with someone, and like job’s friends maybe we’ll just sit quiet for a while, unpersuaded by tension or awkwardness.
we’ll just sit for a while.
not saying a thing.
oh, how i love that.
sitting and being.
just being.
i need to simply “be” more.
i need to.
speech is but one way to speak to another.
what is the language of hearts, of quiet and passionate spirits that no linguist has ever mapped out, no singular country or culture has formed.
no, you formed it, for in those moment you dwell heavy. your spirit grows thick, a gentle flame untamed.
i really want that.
i want to sit for a while.
quiet, restful, not tired.
then maybe like as the color of spring so gently emerges from beneath the cloak of winter’s white, our conversation would organically grow up from the ground of this passionate quiet and our hearts would come out, fully, fully bared.
fully bared.
here’s my heart.
here’s my mind.
here’s me.
all the things i carry around, all the sorrows, all the pain, all the joy, all the questions and all the answers.
all the nightmares.
all the dreams.
here i am.
just me.
and we wouldn’t say much beyond that, maybe.
we’d continue to sit, and be still.
quiet passion, undaunted by the unresolved questions, fueled simply by life, this act of each breath.
what a mystery, life.
i want a hug.
i need someone who cares deeply, embracing my physical form, while knowing they’re also embracing my fragile heart.
i need to be hugged.
i need to.
it’s not that things are bad, and it’s not like things are amazing.
i think sometimes the place in between the mountain and the valley is the hardest.
when i’m on the mountain, i’m well aware of how incredible my life is. praise flows easily from my lips, hope grows effortlessly, and joy is found easily every single day.
when i’m in the valley, i’m well aware of how much i need you. i need to praise you as a sacrifice, and surrender, although hard, frees me from the chains of doubt, worry, and pain. i know that it will not last forever, and so hope thrives, actually, within that valley place. i need it there. i cannot live without it.
but when i’m between these two points, i’m not aware of much, besides my existence, and even that is a struggle sometimes. clock in, clock out. the valley is past, the mountain ahead, and right now i walk.
i walk.
the beautiful part of the valley is the intensity of your presence.
anyone who has gone through a hard and dark valley knows this.
if you reach out to him in the valley, there are times where it is the closest you will ever feel to him.
but in this place in between i lack extremity.
you know i was made for extremity.
you made me intense, but you also made me quiet.
why did you make me so paradoxical?
it is so confusing sometimes.
this walk is wearying.
give me the mountain, give me the valley, but most of all, give me your presence.
most of all the things i need i need that.
i need your presence.
i need it.
i cannot live without it.
i cannot hope without it.
i cannot love without it.
i cannot breathe without it.
i cannot.
i need it.
i need it.
i need it.

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