Do I matter?


I want to matter. I want to be desired. I want to feel special. I want to be missed and thought of often. I want a simple scent or place to bring a smile to someone’s face and for them to think of me. I want to be yearned for and to give someone butterflies. I want to be supported. I want to be protected. I want to be encouraged. I want to make someone laugh and feel better about themselves when I’m around. I want to be a partner in the biggest philosophical pilgrimage that could bring ultimate joy to a person’s life. I want my life to matter. I want my last breath to matter. I want my passing to break someone’s heart and yet give them strength to keep moving forward. I want my actions to swaddle and caress, not burn and torment. I want someone to care. I want to not settle on not becoming the most important person in someone’s life. I want to feel safe. I want to matter.


So, why do I matter?



Life after Death

Why is it that I get the urge to talk to someone who has been out of my life for years? It wasn’t a friendship that casually faded or someone I simply lost touch with. No. It ended badly. I was told by this person that, essentially, he can get on with his life if he imagines that I am dead instead of alive and just void from any interaction with him. The choice was more painful than an act of nature. That was four years ago. So maybe, this is life after death? 

For all intents and purposes, it is best I don’t talk to this person. Even after all the anger, the violence, the hate; there was an undeniable attraction between us. One look would draw the other in, would make us weak in the knees, and could force us into each other’s arms. I could argue, because of the anger and betrayal, that what kept us together for so long, was that attraction. Maybe that was part of it, but it was also knowing it wasn’t always bad. There was a time, we did love one another. There was a time, things were good. It wasn’t a lie and it wasn’t faked. So, where did it go wrong? Blame aside on how it started, I let myself be hurt over and over because of how much I did love him and in turn hurt him back when I could. It sickens me because I put myself through it and yet, after all these years I find myself haunted by dreams of him. I remember when things were simple and easy. We could enjoy each other’s company and do nothing or just respond to the other’s physical desires. We knew what lingered in the other’s soul and he knew what sent shivers down my spine even in those first few moments. It was insane how much we fit and yet the passion only led to destruction.

I feel guilty. Guilty for thinking of him occasionally even after we are both with other people. Could it be I’m not happy and missing that attention and key attraction that I had with him? Possible I just want to feel desired again, and his desire was unmatched, even when it strayed. 

So, because it would be destructive to contact him directly, even if to wish him well, I will get it out here. To my Ex. I loved you and parts of me still do. I think of you and wish you well and do honestly hope you find happiness, because you have people around you that love you and want to see you do well. You are: intelligent, witty, corny, passionate, emotional, introverted, shy, assertive, and interesting even when you are boring. I wish I was enough because I know that now, you were and there are times, I admit, that I wished it had worked out for us. I will never be blessed to have someone like you in my life again but I know our passion was a fire that quickly burned us to ash. Be safe and stay strong. We can never be friends because one day we would give in to that fiery passion again. That’s not to sound conceded. That is just pointing out what was attempted before and I wish it could have been different, but it’s not.

Apart of you always,