Retaking Memories and Redeeming Love

If you'd look at me you'd never know I was attractive. I still find it difficult to believe really. It honestly never helped that I never felt secure in my own skin as if I always wore an ugly orange sweater that announced my arrival and leaving in life. And even though I've been in several beds and have been entwined in many arms I always seem to equate such circumstances not at my stunning smile or eyes that would inflame the soul, but my ability to bend words to my will.

Perhaps it's a long tradition of oral history in my genealogy that makes me a great story teller or to understand the idea of timing and suspense. Perhaps there are those moments where I unleash the Puckish side of my nature and free that trapped inner child that so many of us talk about and yet don't even bother placing a plate of cookies for. To allow one's mind to explore freely the boundaries of words and meaning has always been a joy even it it simply meant trying to read Dr. Seuss as fast as you can without smiling.

So heavily stating and trying to find some sort of credibility with what I'm actually trying to understand, I've find it quite sad that after a relationship or 12 sours as old milk on a sunny spot usually does that I've carved a good amount of territory out calling it hands off in hope of not running into women who have spent angry moments of time wanting to yell at me over what I am not capable to do such as take them back after sleeping with a friend or being the other man. To walk into a store for the need of the freshest berries for some task has always made me rely on my stealthier side of my nature only due to learning early on in my young and stupid life that women have random and desperate moments that are accepted as the passion of love rather than madness as from the male counterpart.

So entering Pasadena has always felt a bitter moment for me, knowing that I've spent many happy moments with someone who I once believed I would spend the rest of my life with or just happy to be around. It's hard losing a small cafe that still roasts it's coffee beans because she discovered it first or that it's blocks away where she lives. To pass small unimportant spots to many where you held someone in your arms and kissed them for either the first time or perhaps the thousand with the feeling that things will never change for the worse and that life will always have that soft glow of joy. The Thai restaurant where you coyly introduced your attraction for Her. The walk down the street from a small quiet pub where you made Her laugh until she made that funny little sound with Her nose that you always thought was endearing. The drive back to Her place that was longest cause she requested a bit more with you. Those memories are perhaps the happiest in my life. To know that two human beings can share so much in moment that can actually stop time, make you feel young once more, and help make life less burdensome.

Yet it is those moments that tear us apart when our seasons change. We stop holding hands and the time between us all have always become longer when the same person who now avoids your for any reason used to move heaven and earth for a small holding of hands, a peck and a smile of more to come. Those moments are replaced with talks on the couch explaining how life has changed and perhaps some time alone would be best by the bravest. Other would simply ask for their keys and a few noteworthy cowards will always depend on faceless means to demand freedom without reason. I perhaps can count on my three fingers the moments where I've had a mutual letting go, not based on abandonment, but knowing that the World tear us apart from those we love most and sometimes we can not return to them regardless of how hard we try. Those rare moments I've always considered a standard of someone expressing their love for you and yet hurting that they have to let go of you also.

In those moments I've never felt more loved. Even if I never saw them again.

And yet, I'm haunted with the memories of little girls who masqueraded as women and made a fervor attempt on such a worthless and bothersome thing as my heart only to toss it aside and run off with what has more shine, abs, money, or time for Her needs. I'm not shocked in any way of this. I always know these women will shatter my being if I invested too much to them and known that if I always gave my heart out as a fool my anguish would not contained on white paper with black ink, but of rich crimson running into warm waters. Freddie said it best when he declared to the World that too much can kill you as he knew his killer as well as I have known mine. Something about someone recanting their affection or simply saying they never found you all that fascinating is one hurt to endure, but to have them attempt a return to you, declaring that they have lived life and suffered much from their pains and now deserve someone who they cast aside as rubbish when they once ran the streets to catch and convince that they are the one they have waited for, as Oscar Wilde also patiently awaited.

I have lost much of my city. There has come a time where I realized this folly of mine would only leave me with one room to stare out from wondering why I have lost so much. It was Frisco, or Facebook to some, that has cause me to analyze my practimate. If I continued to give away places and cities as some drunken monarch to simply avoid a moment of shame or awkwardness from someone who have dealt me a bad hand, then what will I have left if not their ghost to haunt me still? If they kissed me, did I not kiss them? If they held me tight did I not do the same? If they held out their arms in passionate need did I not do the same? The only difference is that I meant it and never let my eye stray once. I'm not much of a liar since people can tell without any training that I lie as some children can remain still and hands in pocket in a candy store. To attempt me to replace the truth would only make me look the simpleton more than simply stating what is. So if I love, I love. If I anger, I sit in silence until I can contain the fury. If I tire, I sleep. Why lie to yourself or anyone else?

I wish I could understand it. If I could perhaps I would not be writing this.

And so in the past half year I sought out on my campaign with what remaining religious ardor I have. I have taken a page from the Spanish and set out to reclaim what is rightfully mine. If the park under the shady tree meant more to me than someone who could leave me embittered, I shall rightly claim it back with a better memory. Tossing a frisbee seems to most a simple act, but to reclaim a happy spot with a better memory have made me victorious. To sit in a restaurant that I've spent gazing into someones eyes and recount stories that will bring smiles even from the hate filled eyes from across the room. To regain a stretch of sidewalk where hands was held with the laughter of friend or the discussion that moves our souls is the equivalent of placing my flag down and declaring this territory not as my own, but for the principle that joy and love must never die with a person, but must endure to honor the memory made even if you have to replace the entire memory itself.

Perhaps I'm attempting to reclaim what I felt at that moment. Perhaps I've demanding what rightfully mine. That kiss, that smile, that moment of time remembered with sweat soaked sheets and a strong heart beat from a soft breast. I refuse to lose that moment to anyone even though those who partook in it will always recant and deny such a moment existed. To destroy a loving moment is to destroy love itself and its worth. I refuse to. If I loved you I love you now. If you ever meant anything to me you will have known it and will have to endure the memory that someone not of your present liking or desire held the same flame that you once held within. I refuse to believe that every woman in my life was heartless and cruel. To say so would only make me what I refuse to become. I will reclaim that love and will have no shame to declare my love for anyone.

To do so is to lie to myself and the World. And I shall not give the World that victory.

So, I walk a bit more taller now and I smile a bit more freely even though my face still hurts and is not costumed to the strain. I declare my love for humanity, the World that seeks to crush me, and to those I've spent a moment of time with even if we simply sat in a quiet place waiting for another moment to pass. I will not hide my love from anyone again. If I spy Her I will smile with my eyes respectfully and thank her for the moment of time that I still hold within. It has come to pass and it has made me a better man for it now. I will still get calls at night even though I've shared that smile, but I will not answer. For memories are best held close to ones heart rather trying to relive them in attempt of finding what She has never have found, even in me.

After all, ex's are ex's for a reason.
Even if I love them still.

From a respectable distance.