I used to live in Brooklyn... good to know it's still cool... and delicious too... and sometimes it's just a wow...

I remember when I was growing up in Brooklyn, I was in love with a girl who thought like this... she even looked a little like her in many ways... sigh and all... it was love at first site, I was lost in her eyes, and I don't know if I ever found myself again...

it is the unconditional trust of giving everything, not that I can not do it myself, not that I can not live without, not that I can not heal without her, but that I allow her to heal me... to allow another such trust, such power... perhaps it is just a romantic fantasy or fairy tale notion... but what if it really is all I've ever wanted?...

does that make it any more or less real?

ah, and it's funny how Brooklyn still appeals to me in many ways... the whole city life, in so many ways... I miss the cultural choices, the cream of the arts, the energy and excitement... and yet I left most happily and have little desire to return for more than an occasional visit... even though the people I might most relate to are stuck there, same as I once was...

I was never any good at being a rat in a maze or a hamster on a wheel... I could never overlook what was missing... it was not that the grass was greener outside the cage, it was that the grass actually was outside the cage...

you may follow some or more or less of this or not, but there is profound layers of experience and dreams peeling away in teenage eyes that I long left behind...

sometimes, I look into the mirror now and wonder who I am... it is a startling experience to look in the mirror and not recognize the person looking back at you... I know it sounds absurd...

the curse of what our culture worships as physical beauty can not be understood by those of us who do not live with it and worse, to know that the shell that everyone lusts over, the face, the eyes, the skin that everyone wants to touch, contains confusion and doubt so fragile and insecure it is ugly to the one inside... and the greatest confusion of all is asking the question, "how can anyone want to love one as messed up as this"... and still they stand in line, some polite with flowers and some wiping drool from their mouths, waiting for a moment of weakness to give them their chance...

"You only think you love me because I look like someone you want to love, but if you only knew who you were looking at, you'd realize how superficial your love can be. I can not fathom, I must deplore such shallow love, but if it is only lust, then go ahead, take me as you wish, for lust is meant to be a moment of pleasure, a glimpse of a fantasy, and even I can imagine beauty on the inside and lose myself there, for a moment." ~ Layla

she was voted Cutest Girl in a school of 5,400 students in Brooklyn, NY... she was Co-Captain of Twirlers and had more energy that you could shake a baton at... she wrote for this and that and sang and danced and was the belle of the ball, every time... she was on every honor roll and still accepted by everyone (cuteness does that)... every boy and many girls lined up to fawn over her, to be in her presence, to hope for a glance and dream of a moment of her time... and she chose me to love, to possess, to consume... life with her, that was heaven...

and over and over again I've been told get over it... time heals all wounds... another will come along... and over and over again I tried with all my power to believe, to fall in love again... maybe I did, maybe I did not... I gave everything, unconditional trust, and yet, it was not enough... maybe everything I could give was not enough because the most important thing remains lost in the cutest girl, all those years ago...

is it a wound that refuses to heal?... is it a scar no one can stand to bear?... is it a broken heart that no one can love for it may always be divided?... is it that no one has yet been strong enough to love enough to consume it all?...

to empower them, not to diminish yourself, not to pretend you are helpless, but to actualize the physical experience of unconditional trust, true love, and the stuff of which fairy tales and dreams are made...

I did that...

once upon a time in Brooklyn...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)