• thoughts on forgiveness (and love), part 1.

    I tend to dilute the intensity of what I felt, and have been feeling, with words like ‘think’ and ‘maybe’ when really what i’ve come to know and accept and trust, is that yes, yes I really was in love. Not a ‘maybe’ love. Not an I ‘think’ love.

    A love.

    The Love.

    Some kind of love?

    My life adjusted, greatly, nearly two years ago when I was introduced to another soul while home visiting my family in Noosa. I say ‘soul’ because that’s what it felt like, and that’s how it’s been feeling. The meeting felt fated, it was bizarre, it was a little bit surreal and the unraveling of this connection occurred over the course of about a week (only a week!) during the nights, always at night, never in the day. He was young, really young, and I was longing (as usual) to feel a sense of beauty and homecoming and sureness. And I got it. Stronger than ever before. And I think we both did.

    I know, I really know, that for the two of us, during that week, there was a shared feeling of ‘yay’ and ‘finally’. It was the first time in, well, forever, that I had felt seen. It was the first time in forever that my admiration for another was mirrored back to me. It felt equal and focused. Like we were both dancing on the same wavelength. Add to this the atmosphere of hot summer evenings and a holiday town that sort of holds you in a period of time that feels too good to be true - like there’s no beginning or end - like you are possibly floating - and POW! What’s not to like? Whats not to love?

    I’ve tried to explain this to a few people and the only way I can sum it up, is by saying that it felt sort of like an activation. I physically (metaphysically?) felt an energy pour out of my chest area, each time we were in contact. Pretty weird hey? But i’m not going to discount the experience or palm it off in any way, because it was heavy. It all felt heavy and warm and flushed. The whole thing still comes back to me during bouts of nostalgia and I can still remember the friendliness of it all. Of course. No wonder.

    I remember rushing through my days just so eager and excited to see him! We could only meet at night because he was staying with his family, and apparently getting to know an older local required late night sneak outs. So that’s pretty much how it was. We would meet up late at night, everything quiet, and we’d talk, and touch, and look. The look on this boy's face said so much. I don’t know if he’s had comparable experiences since. Hell, I don't even really know if any of it hit him the way it hit me. (How will I ever know?) But I haven’t been hit since, not like that, not with that sort of quality. No one has looked at me and made me really lean forward. Not the way he did. Because that’s the thing. The looking felt important? Again it is hard to explain. But imagine, not needing to touch and not needing to speak, and just looking at someone, and without understanding how or why, feeling a sense of “Hi, I think I know you from someplace other than here?” Or “Hello old friend, where have you been?”

    Where had he been? What had he been through? And how did he get to me? Because i'd been all over the damn place, and I had also been through a fuckload of pain in my lifetime. A lot of longing. A lot of waiting. So for there to be that connection that I felt, for there to be that urge to know him as quickly as possible, well surely there also had to be some sort of shared weathering then. Had he been longing too? Had he been waiting also? I sensed right away that he was just as complicated as I was, just younger and packaged differently, with a diferent charm. And I don't mean complicated in a showy way, in an overbearing way, just genuinely odd. Off. I've forever felt off. I've forever felt uncomfortable.

    But there we were, down on the sand, right by the sea, a storm brewing overhead, comfortable.    

    I want to tell you about the steps, the fireworks, the backseat, the beach, the red flags, the goodbye, the year in Melbourne, the reason I left Melbourne!, the hello again, the second goodbye, the pain, and how I lost control of myself. 

    And there's a lesson in here, a big one, obviously, and i'll get to that. I will. But for now, I just want to indulge a bit more, I want to express the details, how crazy I felt, not crazy in love, just crazy. But also the love.

    A love.

    The love.

    Some kind of love?


    // Photos taken on iPhone and edited with VSCO.