Thread

mmmm, that Cello, though. 

Haydn, yo.

I was surprised by the influx of visitors this week!

i guess that's what you get when you brother shares a link on facebook from your blog. haha, thanks dwreck. but hello invisible internet friends!

anyway.

i'm in an anxious mood today. lots of homework due, you know. (I hate online classes)

But i'm grateful to be learning about babies. because i think they're amazing. 

and i love Haydn. 

it's hot today. 

and i wanted to share these....things. i don't' think they're poems. just little bits from my brain. i wrote them a little over a month apart. the first at the beginning of march and the second at the end of april. and i think the contrast is pretty indicative of how deeply i feel things. i'm grateful that i have such strong emotions. i think it's one of the gifts God gave me. to feel. and to feel passionately. on the days that i feel numb, it reassures me that i am indeed a human being, and not a robot. 

but sometimes it's a burden, too.

because i feel feel a lot of things at once. but often that spills over and it's overwhelming. WHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THESE FEELS?! haha. but really. i just have a wide range of emotions all the time, and i'm grateful for it. but some days i feel a little flooded.

sigh. 

ANYWAY, here are these two really vulnerable pieces of mah brain, dissect as you will:

I-

There is you. and here is me. We stand

side by side, two designs assorted

but equal. needle and thread waiting

beside us as we ensure our heights

and widths match.

We’ve been prepped individually;

Frayed edges have been trimmed, wrinkles all

Pressed, stains washed, and holes patched by expert

Hands.  We are certainly not perfect,

You and I.

But here we are, lined up side by side,

And I notice how well your blues bring

Out my browns. The way my broad brush strokes

Can complement your geometric

Patterns so.

The needle and thread pluck through us both

And I see you colored in surprise.

But the thread goes majorly unseen.

Only in those moments too tender

For language

Does it reveal itself with the quiet

tug of the ever condensing thread,

softly stitching our lives together.

I hear myself being sewn closer

to you, and

you to me. we’re being completed.

Joined. Two parts are coming together

to make a whole. As time passes the

sound becomes music to me. My own

Masterpiece.

The gentlest pianissimo, caught

While in your embrace, or your loving

Gaze. I perceive the whir of the thread,

Through my soul and yours. Each stitch binding

Me faster

To you. Often while tied to your eyes

The world goes silent, there’s only us.

and there’s that sound again in my soul:

Whir whir whir.

II -

the thread is loose. my fabric sped through

the machine, bunching terribly, but

not truly binding us. Your fabric

is full of holes, where I tried to stitch,

but couldn't.

I felt as if it were all at once.

But we had long been unraveling.

now I stare at the table and there

we are. cut to fit each other, but

our designs

simply don’t match. I gently reach out

to hold your fabric one last time. I

know the texture well. It feels safe. I

wish I could wrap myself up in it

completely

to block out the world. I wish I could

shut your eyes and make you see me the

way I see me. I wish I knew how

to tell you what is in my heart for

you – the words

I cannot speak. The sounds that my soul

expresses when you’re near. But instead

I look down at the wrinkled fabric

in my hands. It’s full of holes, I feel

it in my

chest, the abrupt vacancy. growing

rapidly. I hear you pulling out

the last few threads, and the final pluck

is difficult for you, but it has

to be done.

We can’t leave our failed piece dangling

together so pitifully. and

in the stillness, I hear something new.

Something I thought I’d heard but wouldn't

Dare admit.

For every whir of thread I so

desperately pulled through us, there was

a row of stitches torn apart. Now

I hear our pattern finishing:

Rip. Rip. rip.

Is it bad that i feel a lot?

nope.

am i grateful for all these things that happen in my head and heart, even though they conflict each other sometimes, and make me confused?

yup.

it's often perceived as naivety, and can be embarrassing, because people see me as wishy washy.  stubbornly loyal one minute, adamantly opposed the next. desperately head over heels today, and perfectly lonely tomorrow. and that is frustrating sometimes, to be judged as a flip flopper.
but that's how i feel. 0% or 100.
and though it's hard, would i have it any other way?

nope.

and someday, some boy is gonna love this spontaneity and clumsiness that is me. and he's gonna love all of my emotions, even the rough ones, because they are my pattern. 

and his pattern will compliment mine, and mine his. 

and maybe he'll feel as deeply as i do. 

wouldn't that be something?

to find someone who feels?

and experiences?

like me?

sounds a little dangerous. like a bunch of explosions and loudness and a whole ton of colors being thrown onto the canvas at once.

But oh, how i would rather paint with every color once than one color forever!

i'm just going to be my pattern. 

and let everyone see me for me, because then if they love me, they'll love me for the Pollock that i am. 

and not the monochrome i was charading.