Simply Nahala

Writer. Photographer. Soul Traveler.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

You Got It

Lately I’ve been a little overwhelmed with the business of life. I've had some time to sit back, reflect, and ponder what direction I'd like to take. I've been especially focused on developing my photography skills, and will be sharing what I capture as I learn and grow. With that being said, I’ve also decided that I’d like to incorporate the occasional guest post onto my blog, in order to feature new works and styles of writing that inspire me. 

Today’s feature is from the lifestyle blog Adrienne Elaine, written by Adrienne herself. You’ll find that her writing is quite different than my own, but that’s what I love! I truly admire all the different ways people express themselves out there, and Adrienne’s words touch me deep to the core.

Her words get to the center that is life—and the messiness of it. She evokes the feelings we all experience with a raw honesty: passion, romance, and heartbreak. I have read this particular piece numerous times, and it always arouses emotion within me. 

To read more of Adrienne’s musings, find her at: http://adriennelaine.com

Happy Reading,
Jan


you got it (a letter to a lost boy)
by
Adrienne Elaine

Look around you. Take a good, hard look at the people you're surrounding yourself with—at the bar, in whoever’s house, floating out at sea…

Tell me that those people see you like I do. That they know and love you like I do. Tell me that when you go to bed at night you see their faces and dream about their hands. That those hands would hold your shaking body at 2 am and you can’t sleep because you don’t know what the point of all this living is. Tell me that they know the way you like your eggs in the morning, your favorite sleeping positions, and which songs make you cry. Tell me that they’ll tuck you in when you’re old, sing you songs, and kiss the soft soles of your grandchildren’s feet.

Tell me that to them your job and your bank account are the least impressive things about you. That if you never went to another foreign city, or set foot on another ship…if all you had to offer was your scarred soul and freckled skin, you’d still be worthy. Tell me that drunken nights and empty connections with simple, easy girls are enough for you. Tell me you’re sure, that I’m not it, and that this was all worth it. Tell me I’m pretty, but not beautiful. Tell me I’m funny, but not hilarious. Tell me I’m quick-witted, but not intelligent. Tell me that you know I love you, but that it doesn’t matter. 

Tell me that, and maybe then I’ll understand. 

I’ll understand why you ran away, a coward in the eye of my perfect storm. I’ll understand why you lied, and why you’re incapable of loving someone beyond yourself. I’ll understand why I always felt so inferior: so bad about not having the material. Being too much—or not enough. But the truth is, I’m not too much. I never was. I was hurting, but I stayed. For I am thoughtful, introspective, empathetic, and love without reserve. I am hot-blooded and stubborn, opinionated and unapologetic.  But I am full of spirit. I am certain. And I know what I deserve.

So I too ran away, but I'm no coward. I am a survivor. I don’t need your life jacket, or your safety boat; I can swim these waters all on my own. Half this ocean I replenished with my tears…I’m no stranger to heartbreak when it comes to you. I lose you all over again every morning when I reach across the bed to find nothing but empty space. It hits me when I hear that song, or your name stumble past a stranger’s lips. I weep parts of you through my skin like breadcrumbs or shards of glass, depending on the day—painfully, or as a trail to lead me back to what my memory calls a better time.

But if letting go of you means finding a person who will not just desire me, but value me, then so be it—I’ll run. I don’t deserve half-truths and empty promises. I don’t deserve to be seen as average, or for my face to be forgotten when you enter the next room. 

If your heart doesn’t stop and your breath doesn’t catch at the thought of not knowing what I did today…at not loving me when you get home…if you know what to do with your hands when you realize that you’re losing me forever, then I’m most certainly not your darling girl.  I’ll grow my roots with someone else, twist my gnarled fingers, toes, arms and legs around theirs, leaving yours free to roam the world however they please—just because they can. Untangled, uprooted, uncommitted. You are free.

You are free of me.

If you ever miss me thinking of the way my eyes light up when I see you, when the spot on my lap was just for your tired head, or the way my hair smelled when we laid to bed at night, remember that you had it. You had me, and you never even deserved to in the first place. 

So look around you…a lost boy with his forever friends…are you sure? Are you relieved?

Is this what you wanted? Because baby, you got it.

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