“I sing for love, I sing for me…”

It’s been four months since it happened and I feel relatively normal. Normal doesn’t mean “good” though. In fact, it’s the total opposite and a feeling ever reminiscent of that Sylvia Plath quote—the one about, if anyone looked at me too closely or even spoke to me, staring me in the eye, I would just burst out crying for a week. Basically, the one about hibernating. Remember now? Well, anyway, I’m fortunate to have a boss who gives me time to myself in the day job, so a lot of my assignments are of me driving around the city, running errands and working almost transiently. It’s fun. It also leaves me time to sit and write which is the most amazing thing ever because obviously, I love writing where I get to and I get to research all these things I never knew about and I’m learning and—

Oddly enough, while I can leave my brain for a while and dive deep into research, I have this stupid faint echo that beats gently. Through rhythm, through every breath. Through a pulse running through my veins. And it’s those lone moments when I realize how much I miss and love him.

How much I miss and love him, I say that through gritted teeth. Anger, hurt, a throbbing pain that finds its way some nights when I stare at the ceiling and watch street lights make their way through the blinds of my windows. I think about where I am and how I got here and a part of me feels deeply betrayed by this someone who was my best friend, said he loved me as a friend, who made his own promise to me about our friendship, but ended up vomiting deceit and illustrated a weak soul eager to conform out of fear for abandonment.

But, with everything he is and wherever he is, I know why. Some things in life are just not meant to happen—or they’re just the wrong time. As he said to me upon our first meeting and when he spilled the beans, had this been five years ago, things would have, well—actually, I won’t share that. What’s the point in living with a thought someone has but never wants to live out?

Let’s be honest. I don’t know where I’m going half the time with these journals. I just know I’m sad and while I have beautiful friends who are constantly there for me, just a text away (how blessed am I?), there’s nothing like that lump in your throat to dictate how you should feel for the day. Despite everything and no matter how sadistic it might be, I also know what his love does to me. I know it’s been good to me and it’s been pure. And that’s been my promise to him. I love him so much more than he would think, all I want to do from here on out is be a good person. A better person. He makes me want to be so much better and wiser than myself, which is why I’m constantly educating myself, studying at Ball State, running around the city and learning about how beautiful this place is we call a world. I’m basically living the life I knew he always wanted for me. And that’s the only way I can honor my love for him.

He’s not with me in any facet—friend, lover, brother, none of that. But he is ever-present in everything I do. For instance, earlier this week, I spoke my mind about something incredibly political and a certain presidential candidate who is a complete douche and spews homophobia, xenophobia, bigotry, and is just a big giant bully. B always told me to stand up for myself and never be afraid to voice my opinion. I did, but my comments got me in hot water with a cretin supporter of said candidate, and of course they were relentless—thinking I was in the wrong for broadstroking supporters, when this candidate’s ugly mouth has been the one going on for months against everything right in the First Amendment and offending two of my besties. Of course, this person and I ended up ending our friendship, more so on my call because I don’t want to associate myself with an angry and hate mongering individual who can’t see anyone’s side but their own. It was hard for me. And like a baby, I cried in my bed and prayed to God for things. That said, speaking out has always been something I’ve been hesitant on because I’ve been a little bruised from the verbal and mental abuse growing up. It’s not easy. (Try walking to your locker every day as a 14-year-old with a girl and her gang calling you a “fat bitch.”) That said, I am better off without this person who is only full of hate and illustrates to all of our mutual friends, an incredibly narrow mind. No one should stay silent when there’s an injustice.

Sigh. Okay. I love you, B and I don’t give a crap anymore who cares or not. If you’ve always felt my caring towered more, know today and always, you ruined me—because you’re perfect as is and you’re amazing and so fucking intelligent and I can love no one else. It eats me inside, it crawls up my spine and I want to pull my hair out some nights. But this love has been real and I just can’t give a fuck anymore. At least I’ve been the honest one among us! And honest living is at least the first step to finding my purpose and thankfully, I’m on the better track.

Speaking of purpose, everyone we meet in life? They’re in our life for a reason. Think it over. For good, bad or worse. And no matter how he thinks and how pissed it makes him, he’s always been my muse. Every article you’ve read professionally of mine? He’s my, “WWBD”? Ha, at least I try to tackle it the way I knew he would. I try to be the best me, I try to be someone who can smile and use this love as something productive because where does the love go at the end of the day? I can’t let it sit still inside me. It makes me itch. It makes my skin crawl. It tries its way to find a way out and most days, I’m only left crying and looking at the clammy palms of my hands wondering if this is what it really means to be in love.

While it hurts some days knowing he doesn’t care or isn’t allowed to, his love has shown me who I’m fully capable of being and becoming the person I knew I could become, but was just scared to. Pushing me forward to my meaning, encouraging me to find my purpose, he has an incredible spirit and a beautiful heart—who I end up becoming is a testament to him. I know he disagrees, but I mean, I even built The Hudsucker because of him. He was the sole purpose for that. And look at the success we’ve found at our little online magazine? Nominated for a Shorty Award, ended up as a discussion point for a talk show on daytime television, interview people who are in the film and TV industry—a dream he had once of pursuing—and those little threads, though built by my team and I with steady roots and pillars, were seeded from the love I have for B.

I was listening to Sia’s album earlier tonight, particularly the track, “Bird Set Free” and while I am fully aware it does not share context to my own relationships, there were certain lyrics that fed into own thinking and heart’s pain. Every song is open to our interpretation anyway, right? This love of mine might always have to live in the shadows, but every once in a while, I let it out and disguise it through a creative work—just to put a piece of his heart and warmth out there in the world that he’s too afraid to live and defy.

Next time you read something of mine, know that B came along for the ride.

“I find myself in my melodies,
I sing for love, I sing for me,
I’ll shout it out like a bird set free…”

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