if i had known how to love

In the real world, if I were to fall into your arms, I would stumble between the space of them and the floor.

Perhaps I wanted you to catch me, perhaps I wanted you to see me fall at your feet in hopes that it would prove I am worthy.

In the real world, if I were to fall into your arms, I would stumble between the space of them and the floor. Perhaps I wanted you to catch me, perhaps I wanted you to see me fall at your feet in hopes that it would prove I am worthy.

the fraudulence of my youth and its crimes against humanity

Mistakes that happen twice are no longer mistakes they’re warning signs, glaring in white light. The first indication of the tree rotting, the body breaking down, and the world ending. A conglomeration of disease and intentional destruction. There are some experiences in which you simply cannot express your gratitude for.

The ending of my relationships is one of those things.

How do we sit at the pulpit in wonder, marveling at our indignancy with acceptance? How do we capture the moments in which we robbed people of their human rights, of their humanity, and still find it within ourselves to forgive that which we have faulted?

Transgressions of childhood, oftentimes, are acceptable merits of youth, stupidity. That we are not at fault, but rather “in learning”. While that holds its own weight, it is not a viable excuse for the trauma and wounds by which we have imposed and/or perpetuated. It is not a viable excuse for thrusting bystanders into our faultlines and chasms, hoping that if we speak enough apologies in prayer they will heal and forgive us. That in their forgiveness, we are proof of superficial change and growth that only benefits to serve the image of how wonderful we are - not how much we have actually grown.

We are frauds, we are fakes. Marauding in self-fulfillment that proves our indecency and lack; how can you forge abundance out of the emptiness that feels innate to your soul?

To express gratitude is a falsehood. It is a wall that blocks criticism and deficit, a mask that hides the imperfection. To be thankful is to be loveless, and more specifically, to be thankful that the teacher of our faults is our victims is to be godless.