Manic Love (A work in progress)

Chapter One: Hunter

As I lay gazing out of my window, fiery thoughts of him cross my mind. I miss his touch, his hair, his eyes. I find I can’t escape thoughts of him. The wind whistles through the trees outside in this late July afternoon. I crave to touch his soul and in the midst of the darkness of my mind, he shines through like God. Desperately my mind trickles down to thoughts of us together. I desire to be so close to him. The magnitude of his soul when I am with him makes me believe I can and want to live on. He is one of my reasons. The other being writing. My reasons for existing, that is. The shadow of his personality echoes around the chamber of my mind when I am not with him. He is so deity like, it makes me question whether Eden is not infact simply a metaphor for his face and frame. His hair is so perfect. It is like the purest and most cared for grass. Only God can create something this beautiful and bottle it up in one person and their existence. He is infinite yet finite in his presence and time on this Earth.
As I think of Hunter, and his perfection, I cannot bring myself to escape the potential elusive yet lingering feeling that he is not attainable. He is someone I have come to care for yet he is so ungraspable and in such a way like smoke through my fingers. Loving him feels like the exact felings right before I start to go crazy. I can feel my mind slowly start to fade away yet I cannot grasp it, I cannot hold it for long enough. The sanity escapes me and such is it with him, every time I try to grasp at him, to capture his essence, he is water through my oil dprenched hands. I repel him with my closeness, it feels. Every time I try to get close to him, to whisper into his soul all the things I am so grateful for, he is whisked away with the fear of intimacy.
I bring myself to my senses and breathe in for a second. As I look out my window once more, it occurs to me that though we are not physically close, skin on skin, like I desire, we are under the same sky, the same sun, the same moon and stars. And this lonely thought brings with it an inch of solace. Sometimes God works in strange ways. He brings someone into my life whom I feel is a perfect reflection of his wonderful majesty and power, but like a drug makes them all too abke to be taken away. He creates these men in such a way that makes them fickle. One minute they want you, the next they can’t stand you. I desire only closeness, no one could ever be too much.
I dream of a time when he might ask me to be his and his alone. I crave him to see me as the most beautiful being. I wish he could love me the way I have fallen in love with him. At that moment, I see a text pop up on my phone. It is from my mother, wishing me happy birthday for yesterday. I turned 26 yesterday, not a momentuous age, but something nonetheless. Sometimes I wonder why we are here, truly. Is it just to reproduce? Or is there some other kind of larger matrix like plan that God has in store for us all? I wish I could ask him, I guess I can. There was a time not too long go where I was deeply connected to him. I would hear him in the music, communicate with him through the verses. Now I find him in Hunter. Those beautiful eyes could never cease to release my soul in such a way that awakens the very spirit and body of my being. I desire to know how someone can obtain such audacity to be so beautiful.
As the night goes on, I listen to more and more music. I find him in every track, every high and low note like the lines of his beautiful body. The lyrics and their rhyming are like the parallels in the symmetry of his body. Every individual hair on his body is unique and I love every single one. They collectively come together like the individual notes on a track to create one intense masterpiece. I want to thank God for creating such a perfect, sweet, innocent muse for me to lust and love. He is a miracle in pure human form. As the night presses on I dream of all the things I want to do with him. I dream of singing with him and making music. I dream of going for walks with him and saying everything and nothing all at once.

My eyes slowly start to close and I feel sleep creeping upon me, stealing me away from my thoughts. Tomorrow I will go to work, but in my heart I wish I could spend all day travelling and writing about things I see and feel. I wish I could learn to paint beautiful things. I wish I could write lyrics and draw drawings. I want to write poetry all day long. I want to go swimming and lay out in the vibrant summer sun. But summer is fading too fast and Autumn will come soon. I pray for a warmth so deep it lasts me all winter. Maybe I can find it in his love...if only he could love me like I wish he would. Maybe one day he will. Only time will tell, and I am dying to find out.

Chapter 2: The morning run

The morning comes around, and I wake. The sunrise is one of the most beautiful things to behold. It reminds me of a flower blooming, the colours like a rich tapestry. I wake around 5.30am and the sun is so close to blooming. It makes me feel happy to be alive. I want to go for a run, but my back aches still from working at the furniture shop all weekend and moving items around the shop.
I decide to go for a run anyway. As I take the first step outside the front door, I immediately feel the cold air rush around me like a cold embrace. I brush off the thought and the idea of getting warm and running presses me on. I find myself caught in the balance between wanting the perfect body and wanting to have good mental health. Recently I have been tracking my weight and my calories in the hopes that I will someday acheive a body that is desirable to myself. I cannot wait for the way I look in the mirror and feel fully satisfied with my body. Though, I know this feeling is fleeting. Some days I will feel happy with how I look, some days I won’t. I have to make peace with that. Why? Because it is the truth. I really do believe trying to find the truth in all things is in some ways the meaning to all of this. Though sometimes it feels counterintuitive that the more truth I find, the more confused I seem to be. It really does seem strange to me, that paradox.
I come back from my run and start to get ready for the day. I shower, eat, take my medication and suppplements, and dress. Sometimes in the mundane I find myself questioning everything. Mostly I question convention. Why should things be done a certain way? I know sometimes it is simply convention. But if it is convention, who makes up the first rules for why we, say, brush our teeth after eating, why not brush them before eating, which might work well too. Then I embark on a pros and cons for brushing teeth post or prior to having breakfast. Such is my mind. I cannot help but go down each garden path as it comes up before me. Perhaps this is why I find so much confusion so often. I so much of the time feel like Alice in Wonderland. I escape into my questionings of life and my confusion, perhaps in some way to grasp at some kind of reality, at least a Buddhist might say.

Chapter 3: The afternoon visitor

After coming home from work, I decide to write some more. Though I feel mildly uninspired, I have a pressing feeling that there is something out there in the ether that needs to be written. All of a sudden I hear a tap at my window. I peer down and see a younger version of myself. She is throwing rocks at my window. I look at her, lost in her innocence. She must be about 8 or 9, pre anorexia. I have so much to tell her. I have so much to warn her about. She tells me to come on, to hurry up because we haven’t got long. I reply that we have all the time in the world. As I make my way down stairs to her, it occurs to me that, though I know her most of all, I don’t really know her at all.
I meet her outside, on the porch below my window. She looks at me and I see tears start to well in her eyes. ‘’What’s the matter, child?’’ I press, with urgency. Seeing myself like this, at such a young age, it makes me feel so strange. I feel a great sense of responsibility and duty to care for her. I must warn her of everything. I have to tell her everything she  must look out for. Noting the urgency in my voice, she hastily whispers ‘’I feel lost. I feel confused. Everything is changing. I don’t know what to think anymore and I don’t understand’’.
‘’But what don’t you understand?’’ I reply, knowing full well what she means in some sense or another.
‘’I don’t understand the meaing of all this.’’ She looks up at me with her sweet eyes, ones I have never seen like this. I feel as though I am looking in a mirror that can transport me to the past. I see all her fears and in a second I come to realise my current strength. So have gone through such a curious time at such a young age, it makes you strong.
‘’Tell me something’’ she says. ‘’If you could do it again, your childhood, what would you change?’’
I tell her ‘’I don’t know’’ as in truth I don’t. ‘’There are many things I suppose I could change but if they were meant to happen, they would have happened, wouldn’t they have?’’ She rreplies ‘’I suppose... but if you could, change just one thing, what would it be?’’ She eagerly questions.
‘’I would try to not worry so much, child. There are certain things we can change, see, but a lot of what we are and who we are, what we go through, is not up to us. I would ask that you believe in God sooner. It is his plan completely. We have free will, but he is the ultimate source of good. There is so much we cannot understand for we are only human and have limited capabilities and understanding. But you must trust a higher power. You must let go and give your trust to him. I have only recently found that he is everything. I had always felt it, from the first moment I can rememeber I felt his presence. One thing you will come to understand about yourself as you age is that he is everywhere if you look for him. Put your faith in a higher power. Although, I do believe that every moment you suffer, it is all part of a bigger picture. You see, the God of small things and the God of the great are one in the same God.’’ I pause ‘’I have to tell you something’’ I tear my eyes away from my younger self for a second.
‘’What’s that?’’ she asks. ‘’I... I don’t know how to say it.’’ She presses me, ‘’try’’. As I look up, I realise her image is slowly fading away in front of me. ‘’I love you’’... and just as she once appeared, her image is all too soon gone and I am left once again with and without her.

Chapter 4: The afternoon’s returning thoughts of Hunter

As I lay, once again, on my bed staring up at the trees outside my window, I am led once again to ideas of procreation and my existence. If I have been created from nothing, what is to say I, too, cannot also create something from nothing. Maybe when he says to ‘Go forth and multiply’ it can mean to create more beautiful things, more art, more original writings, poetry, music. Perhaps it does not only have to pertain to idea of children and creating other life forms. But, for that matter, what’s to say that there is not life in the words in the poetry, or life in the music, as much as there is in a newborn’s cry.
I want to create memories, knowing full well that even if I don’t remember things the next day or the next week, they will forever be written in the ether. Time’s scribe will forever have them noted in his infinate notepad of goings on here on Earth. Amongst the chaos and maddness, amongst the beauty and pain, he will write ‘one tuesday a young lady dreamed again of the man she muses’. He will write ‘she again dreams of him and obsesses over his perfection’.
Just as I begin to feel the slight notion of lonliness, there comes another ligt tap on my window. I immediately jump up, knowing full well who it must be. I peer down and to my surprise, it is not her, not her, quite.

Chapter 5: The afternoon visitor

TBC