Today I briefly attended the RNC and stood for others’ love, as I do not have any in my life right now. I staged a brief counter-protest to Westboro Baptist Church’s message of hatred with one of love, acceptance and peace. I kissed a girl to show that love is love, and we performed well and had fun, and did not get assaulted or shot, which is a very good thing. I believe in these things, and I was glad to have the chance to stand up for what I believe in. That was and is important to me personally.
I hope it is not a hollow message to stand up for love when you have none in your own life. Like giving parenting advice when you have never had any children. But ah, I have had love, so I can still speak to it. I think.
I hope it is not a false message to passionately kiss someone who does not have passion for you, nor you for them, only to make an emotionally political point. Our hearts and spirits were pure and filled with good intention. Yet as I reflect back this evening, I really don’t know.
I’ve not much to offer someone, and have every reason to be particular about who I spend time with. I will work to narrow that further. I no longer want to be in the company of people who in any way are not proud to openly be in my company, doing whatever it is we are doing. If you cannot tell your Mom, post it on social media, or share whatever time we have spent together with your best and closest friends, I will be spending little time with you going forward.
I simply have no more energy to give towards people who do not value me. It drains me and leaves my spirit shredded.
I just can’t chase anyone anymore for their time.
Each sunset reminds me how little time I may have left. Any night could be my last. Life is too precious and short to share moments with people who can’t be bothered with me.
Love is important. But cannot be forced or manufactured. It can be represented, but like walking on sandy ground, will give way if enough force is applied.
I tried to reclaim my thoughts and myself tonight as I stared out at the setting sun. The ground was still warm.
My son sleeps in his bed, well fed, exhausted from an after-camp trip to the pool.
He is on my wavelength. He awakened last night as I lied awake with insomnia at 2:00 a.m. He rarely wakes up unless there is an accident or nosebleed. He quite simply asked if he could sleep with me, like he knew I needed human contact or else I would go mad. His tiny, tan bones settled right in to my big bed, and I smelled his hair and was so glad he was there. This morning when we stepped out, I thought wow, it looks like fall already. I did not say it out loud. Yet ten minutes later when we were on the way to camp, he asked me if this was the shortest summer yet because it looks like fall to him. I have to remember he has this shine to him, and try to shield him from some of what I think and feel, as it is not fair to burden him. He has so much ice cream to eat, so many miles to run in new shoes, so many drawings of animals, so much laughter.
I cannot tap into it. I can only pretend.