When In Pain

I see everything. All of it. I see what you try to hide.

I knew you weren't okay, so I sat there, not saying a word because you didn't need that. You needed to find your own way out of despair. I was just a warm light for a moment. You hugged me, then moved me aside only a moment later. You didn't want me gone; I felt a "please let me do this..." in your movement. I let you go. You said you were okay, but you were punching a bag as hard as you could and had been for a while and finally started to cry as the catharsis set in. I felt every inch of it and, as an empath, it felt worse.

I simply walked away and left you in the dark that you preferred. I could hear you even outside of the house. I drove away because that's where you wanted me. I saw you in your darkest moment and you did not want me there. I talked to you about it later. You didn't want me to worry. I see the truth, but I will wait on you to tell it to me on your own. You can't handle the depth of my knowing right now.

I saw this week how little you think about other people. Sometimes, so wrapped up in your own life and forgetting the hearts of those that cry out around you. Ignored messages and phone calls and most of that because people are trying to catch up to you. I'll not comment more than that because I was asked not to.

I see the signs that you're nervous, but the way I see it, it is an impossibility. You will always bear that and so will I, but that is how it is I suppose. I'm amused that you even notice. More that it concerns you at all in any way; it's not like you're replaceable in any way and you never will be. You are, after all, you.

Sometimes, when I'm in pain, I sing. Apparently the last time I did this (last night and tonight) have been significant. Last night in particular, the songs I sang as Polli rode with me in the car had an effect like this:

I can't say exactly what it was like; Polli would have to write his thoughts and share they with you. I simply sang.

It's an odd trait. I think every race has a genetic thing they do, and I seem to have been born of a people that sing when there is pain in their heart. So I sang. I could probably get the list of everything I sang and if you want it, I will, but it's enough to know that I sang while driving for almost an hour away and back to my home.

To Polli, it was amazing and beautiful; he couldn't see the depth of pain in it, but I think he felt the passion in it.

I'm back in a mode of observation. I see everything, but comment on little. There's so much going on all the time and I see everything.

You. I think about, write about, write to, dream about.... is there anything I don't spend at least part of my day doing with you somehow. I'm sure you know my thoughts and I've written them a thousand times and I will continue to as long as you'll read them. I re-read some of the things we've written each other and conversations we've had. I smiled, laughed, hurt, and almost cried. I'm glad we met.

Friends aren't friends if you have to protect them from knowing who are you are -- good, bad or ugly. I don't want anyone to deceive themselves otherwise. Your friends should be people that see you in darkness and become light to you. People that will walk beside you in places even angels fear treading. That's what friendship is. It's a lifetime to commitment to loving someone. Period. PERIOD.

.....so many thoughts, so little time. I wish I could even write them all.