The passion you inspire within me

A Christmas gift this morning...

Im sorry

I have love for you

Tonight you answered me. It's ok that you're moving on. It's ok that you love me but are no longer in love with me. It's ok that you're just trying to be happy.
I don't know if you truly no longer adore me or rather if you simply don't want to admit (to yourself or me) that you are. Yet it is clear that either way you wish not to. I get it bonita; I am here and you are there. It didn't work before in this situation so why should it work another time through?
I don't know. I don't know how or when I can or will come back to Chicago. All I know, all I can tell you, is that I feel it; I sense you in the depths of my soul.
So what does that mean? How can I have an expectation of a future with you when it seems so uncertain?! Truth be told I cannot. And that's not what I am in search of. In my gut and in my heart I simply feel like we COULD end up together. I am not changing my life for the purpose of being with you. I am simply walking with my eyes affixed upon you at the end of the path I travel. Maybe it is not to be. Maybe the universe conspires for something different for you, for me. If that is indeed the case then it is only because that is the way in which we will be most happy.
I need to know that you're open to this idea. That somewhere down the line you feel us together. If you don't it only means that I must walk my journey with my eyes closed and my soul screwed up towards the heavens.
I have one more favor to ask you. I have a little something I want to send you - just a couple of books. Would it be best to send to you at work or home?
I love you bonita. That is now and forever. No matter what path we may take in this world or the next, know that I will always carry you in my heart.
Yo te quiero mi skirls.

I need love; i know it

Exasperation is the word that I feel throughout my entire being this morning. I am completely perplexed as to why I am so devastatingly enamored with you. I understand the wonderful qualities and attributes that you possess, yet it is rather your faults and imperfections with which I am in love with. Though I often fondly recall times we've had together which im sure you have, what seems to command my adoration and reflection are the things I don't particularly care for about you, the things I am scared about concerning you, and the parts of me that need to be addressed.
It is beyond strange to know love through fears and negatives the way I also understand it with you. I love you both for the things I like and the things I don't.
Ultimately I believe this to be a major contributing factor as to why I am so passionately and devoutly committed to you. It pains me as I hope you'll never know that there is someone else who is with you, touching you, holding you, no matter the permanence of the situation. I want to be the one for you.

When I asked you the other night when you felt as though you were/are a woman, you shared with me that you weren't sure; you confessed that you still feel in many ways like a girl.
I understand this completely. It was with you that I felt like a man for the first time, and it is for you that I have become a man. I wont come back to Chicago without my career fully in hand and grasp because that's not part of my plan, my future. In ordered to be loved we must first love ourselves. How can I expect you to be happy with me when I am not happy with me? If I were to move back to Chicago without my career I fear that someday I would resent you for it. In order for me to be the rock of stability which you so richly reserve I need to continue to grow into the man I feel myself to be destined to be.
It is in this same breath that I announce my intent with you, all of you. I need you to continue to grow into the woman I know you to be. I've known love without individual internal stability and it was a love destined for devastation. Our love is not such a love. We must continue to become the people our fates destine us to be. We must continue to work on being a man and being a woman in order to become us.
As I reflect on our history with one another I am made more and more aware of how I have shied away from the tougher questions about you and I, both in addressing them with you and within. For the first time I am confident in knowing that I want you fully commit to a future, which inevitably involves your son and your mother among others. I've told you of my desire to know Anthony, not necessarily now but eventually. No longer do I succumb to the fear of his disapproval, but I embrace the idea of loving him through my love of you.
Keeping all joking aside, I want to meet Maria. I want to meet her with vocational success and clear intent and passion directed towards and inspired by you; I want her to know the man I am in my step, the passion you inspire in my voice, and my adoration of you in my eye.
I am not asking you to commit to me but rather to commit to yourself. I need you to continue to work towards the things you want and the dreams you have. I ask you for to do it for me, but more importantly I ask you to do it for you. I don't know when or how I will be able to return to Chicago, I simply know that I will be. This is why I don't want you to throw away your present for.your future. I want nothing more than to be your novio, yet I understand why I may not be right now.
I just need to know that you feel what I feel you do. I need you to tell me merely once that you love me still. Then I can know that what I champion is not a farce, and im many ways will be able to.be a part of your life rather than trying to be more than that. Tell me your heart still screams my name and I can know our future.
If you cannot, then I will leave you be. My heart thirsts for you, but if you see no future at all in us then I can no longer continue to slowly poison it.
I love you bonita. I don't know how, and I don't know when, but I know ny life is with you. And I just need to know that somewhere deep down you feel it too.

Rememberance of the beauty

This morning I was once again blessed with waking up to find my green light blinking from you. To begin my day with your memory in my heart and your words in my eyes is to begin my day with sunshine.
It elates me to read of you knowing your fill in boyfriend yet devastates me to understand that he exists in the first place.
I cannot change what is done, I can only champion after than which my heart cherishes.
I know I have bombarded you in a variety of correspondence mediums, and to say that I will text or call or blog you as much as I have since the "12s" is simply to perpetuate deception; there will come a point where you will begin to bore with that why I say and do (which is often - as you are more than aware - a broken records of my adoration of you).
But I will spew forth my heart with every breath until then.
I once told you of my fear that you would tire of my seemingly endless and often repetitive expression of my love, infatuation, respect, and desire of you. And in some ways I am aware of how the more we encounter things, the more usual they become. Do not mistake my love for simply the normal.
I want to tell you that just the thought of you brings emotion to my eyes, skips to my heart, and curvature to my lips.
In you I know love.
I love you bonita.

An early morning thought...

I woke up smiling today thinking about you.

A goofy kind of smile

12.12.12 will always have a special meaning and memory for me. I know that you believe in coincidence, at least as 12.12.12 is concerned. But the universe tends to unforld the way it should. I am reminded of the story of my father and Barb.

When he was 17, my father dated a 15 year old named Barb. They dated briefly, only for a few months if my memory serves me properly. It was puppy love as ever puppy love has been.

When he was in his early 30s, my father again dated Barb. This time it was after their first mariages, repectively, each one now with a son. The romance ended quite abruptly, with Barb bouncing a beer bottle off of my father's Camaro.

As my father told me this story, he shared with me his experiences of the heart.

"Kyle, I've been in love twice in my life. The first time was the first time I held you in my arms. The second was Barb."

Barb and my father did not speak to nor see each other for the next thirty years. It was at the age of 62 that my father found Barb, the second love of his life, back in his world.

I think everything happens for a reason, even if we don't see it or understand it initially. I needed to leave Chicago, maybe it was for the opportunity I felt I would have in New York. Or maybe it was simply that I needed to lose you before I could fully know how much I love you. No matter what the reason, I find myself in the position to further myself and my life, giving it further push towards where and what I want it to be.

In order for me, for us, to have a life filled with happiness it is imperative that we acheive the things which we feel our hearts pulling us towards. As much as I love and adore you, I cannot and will not return to Chicago in the near future, as far as I can forsee. But DO NOT misunderstand that as I am not coming back. If you are in Chicago then I will be in Chicago. I will fight for you. I will fight for us.

I love you Bonita.

The return to the home of the heart

At British Airways, like many airlines, employees earn flight benefits after six months of service to the company. My DOJ (Date of Joining) way May 7th, 2012, making my benefits kick in on November 7th. But since everything in the company runs on Zulu (London) time, I gained access to flights at 7pm on Nov 6th. What that translated to is that I got to see the sun rise this morning over the Atlantic ocean.

Upon arriving in Paris, one of the first things that I encountered was a modern impression. It was a stark reminder of someone special back home, and gave me an immediate new twist on a city I am just beginning to know...

But of course - as it always is - it was the first time that I espied mon p'tit chou (the Eiffel Tower)) that my heart truly fluttered and reminded me that yes, I was indeed in Paris!

One of the neat things about returning to a city rather than being introduced to a city is that things become to become familiar. From Paris to the Moon introduced me to this establishment, but it was seeing it with my own eyes and recognizing it that made the city truly set in. It also fostered the feeling of knowing, that somehow recognizing something without actualy knowing it makes it that much more warm...

I was also treated with this wonderful truc, yet another reminder that though I thought - naively of course - that I knew all the city that indeed Paris is ony beginning to open up to me.

And of course my night ended with my little cabbage in the best garden of Paris.

And though I do not know that this is where I belong, It was a feather found that reinforced my love for this city.

I am beyond lucky to be becoming a dreamer.

thank you for letting me go.

my ride home...

it's 1247 am and just now am i climbing onto the bus at JFK. i have to take it to the L train to get home, and if i'm lucky i'll get home by 230 or so. that gives me just enough time to shower, change, make a little food and head back to the airport for work at 6am.

as i sit on this bus and type this out, all i can think about is how i wish i were coming home to you, just for a kiss.

to say i miss you is redundant.

to say i miss you is an undrstatement.

I overlooked us.

A strange event

An odd thing happened tonight, and it reminded me of you.

I had to work today into tonight having picked up a 1230-2030 (1230pm to 830pm) shift at JFK. The Tigers, now in the ALCS (American League Championship Series (Baseball (Sports))), were scheduled to play the Yankees at eight oclock eastern time. So by the time I got home the game would be about two hours old, meaning I would have missed most of it. Instead, when I walked out of terminal 7 and checked my phone for the score I was greeted with the information that the game had been postponed to tomorrow afternoon due to rain.

Just now I was reading an article about the postponed game and was reminded of the last time that a rain-out occurred in the playoffs: it was last year in the ALCS game two, once again involving the Tigers.

Thinking that the game was going to be played as usual (the game in 2011) I headed out to meet you, just in the hopes to hold your hand and steal a kiss or two.

For me, it was a pretty special night.

For me, you're a pretty special woman.

Edith Piaf - Padam, Padam

Happiness is catching a cab to get to work and hearing ensame a olividar on the radio. thinking warmly of you Bonita :)

the end.

I am eccentric. as i age i not only realize this about myself but i also further embrace it. i think what made me love you was the way in which you were weird too, and how you loved my weird.

For the last few weeks - and really months - i have been all too focused upon the negative, the void that your absence created. and to be honest, it has been great. through embracing such pain and anguish i have been able to recognize just how passionately i loved you. the band-aid hurts the most when it is removed only because the bond to the skin was so fierce. I loved you so much that it was reflected in how much i hurt not having you.

But it is finally time to say goodbye. There is an old parable that speaks of two monks walking down the road. when they encounter a woman in a long lace dress standing at the corner they asked on what it was that she waited. The woman explained that she could not cross the street for fear that if she did, her dress would surely become quite heavily soiled. Upon hearing this, the first monk picked up the woman, carried her across the street and promptly set her down. The woman thanked the monk for the deed, and the two monks continued down the road in the direction that they had been traveling.

The monks walked together in silence, and as the hours turned made no mention of the woman. It was then that the second monk questioned the first one about his deed.

"Why did you pick up that woman back there and carry her across the street," questioned the second monk to the first. "It is not our job to do things like that and worry about such problems."

The first monk stopped, turned towards the second monk and warmly replied, "I set her down five hours ago. Why are you still carrying her?"

It is this way that I feel about you and us. I have continued to carry our love and what was into the present even though it no long has a home here. And that's ok. It's ok that things have ended between us, for it doesn't matter whether I mind or not, it doesn't change the reality that exists.

The once was a motivational speaker - or guru for a better definition - named J Krishnamourti. He traveled the world for years giving talks and lectures about happiness and the keys to life. One day, Krishnamourti posed the most basic of questions to his audience, some of which had been following the guru for 18-20 years.

"Do you want to know my secret," Krishnamourti demanded. "My secret is this: I do not mind what happens."

And that is perhaps the most important thing that I must remember now. I am not coming back to Chicago, nor are you coming to New York nor Paris. We can't work, at least not in this way. You're right.

But that doesn't change how much I love you nor how wonderful I think you are. I just need to remember the good. And there sure was a lot of it!

You're skirls have to be number one. I love them more than you will ever know. They are you and you I love. The couple at that Chinese restaurant that thought we were so cute. Te culo fntastico. The cute "K Names". Getting fresh at the wax museum. The smells of our alley way and bridge dates. Spending the days together in my apartment, especially when it was cold. McDonald's. Looking forward to being raped in the changing room. Sneaking kisses. Your giggle, your smile. Picnics at the park. Getting laughed at trying to get a first kiss. Too many to count. Too many to forget.

You were an awesome girlfriend, and made me feel really good about myself. I was really happy with you and having you in my life. And I felt like for the first time in my life I could truly be me and not worry at all what you thought because I KNEW you would love it, love me.

You were the biggest muse I have ever had, so inspiring to me to not only to explore life but to truly follow my heart in life. Bonita, I wish I were a better writer each and every time I write if only to be able to better convey how I love you and how you make me smile.

Il y avait des temps quand je voudrais parler en Francais parce que je ne sais pas quoi d'autre je peut te dire de mon amour. J t'aime mes Skirls, et il n'y a pas les mots dans tout les langues que peut t'explique sa en tout.

Yo te quiero mi amour. Yo ablas l'Espanol solamente para ti, para mi corizon te tengo.

I am never going to forget you, but I cannot keep carrying you into my present when you cannot actually be here. I'm sorry for all that I've done, all that we've done. I love you and think you're awesome. =)

So here's a little music that reminds me of you and of us, and I hope that it helps to put a smile on your face the way it always plasters one on mine.

I love you Bonita, now and forever.

you make me smile. I love you Bonita

lucky

maybe if i'm lucky you will become a dream.

maybe if i'm lucky you will become a distant memory.

maybe if i'm lucky i can take away how you're real.

or maybe if im lucky i will simply begin to forget.

the love of hate

how i so desperately want to hate you.

would it be easier if i did?

would i be able to shuffle my feelings of and towards you into a little box, never to be examined again?

would i be able to get you out of my head?

maybe its just easier for me to think of you in such extreme terms as love and hate. after all, it is these passionate things that i can taste the most.

it is almost as though my love for you overwhelms me at times. it crashes down over and through my defenses, ambushes my awareness and manipulates my being.

i guess what hurt me the most is the feeling that you were so easy to give up on us. it's not  blame thing, but rather the misunderstanding of how you can love me as i love you yet are so willing to walk away from us. why is it that you can't wait? what is it that demands that you cannot wait for me? i just don't get how you wanted me in your life even after i moved here, yet are unwilling to wait for me to return.

i deal with these things, i wrestle with these thoughts, and i do not search for answers from you. instead i have made my own monologue as to what is, what was, and what could have been.

am i approaching the end?

will i ever dream without you again?

you're not allowed to be real.

You don't have the right to know me. You don't have the right to be real.

If I write enough about you, about us, about my heart, can i make it surreal? Is it possible to actually evoke my love in a way that all can understand? If I speak enough about it, can I turn what was, what never was, about us into a story?

I keep hoping that somehow I can remove myself from you. I often wonder if it is possible that if I dedicate enough of my time, energy, emotion, and drive into it (it being us - or what was us) that it will become surreal. It's like I hope that if I think and talk about it enough that it will truly become a fable or epic saga rather than that which is or was.

I love writing on your blog. It is a way for me to speak to you without truly knowing if you are actually hearing me. These things that I feel and have share are perverse and quite sadistic [as it pertains to or is characterized by sadism; deriving pleasure from extreme cruelty]. They are not that which you should be bombarded with. It's not fair for me to call you, text you, email you, facebook you - ANYTHING "you". But the blog is the exception to the rule. It is a way that gives you a choice to hear what it is I have to say. I am free in the way in which I share on your blog because I do not know if you're reading it. And it is fair for me to write on your blog because you are the one who makes the choice to read it.

I cannot any longer be attached to you. Yesterday I put on the new york belly shirt you gave me. I was feeling silly and thought that embracing something tangeable that was you would allow me to further embrace my feelings and emotions as they related to you. Lately I have really begun to cherish the pain and anguish that I am left with. At first I believed that this trance I have been in over you was counterproductive towards my other (artistic) outlets. I have seldom written, painted, drawn, goofed around, photographed, explored, or Central Park'd. It seems as though I am in a malaise over you, over us.

It was only recently, within  day or two, that I have begun to embrace my sorrow, as if somehow doing so helps me identify with a certain clarity the fall I had over you. Somehow I feel like I am simply allowing and maybe even enjoying the sadness I am enveloped in. By remembering that it is the loss of such a great inspiration of happiness that you are which drives the sadness. Ultimately, I just remember that it hurts so much because it felt so good and right.

Perhaps more importantly, or at least as interestingly, I have come to discover that this lamenting of what is or was of us is not destructive or negative. I love winter. I think it is partially because of the sports, the snow, the holidays, the family, everything that goes along with it. I am also aware that it is partially because it is Canadian, and I embrace all that is Canadian. But I always tell people, "look, I love the winter. But even if you don't look at it this way, 'it's the winter, the bad, that makes the summer, the good, so good.'" That's how I feel about the loss, the void, the empty space that echo's only for you. This anguish is my winter. In a way, the time I had with you, the love I developed for you was and is so strong and voluptuous that it makes this current state I'm in so bitter sweet.

Your love created such a powerful hold over me that the way I feel now is like being scalded by hot water. Imagine when water flows so hot that the part of your body it touches is almost sent into shock. It is at these times that our body has trouble identifying the sensation and the signals are misinterpreted by our brains. These are the times that the water is so scalding hot that it actually kinda feels icy cold. That's how my heart feels right now. This hurt is like a fiery lava that washes over me like nothing else ever has. And it burns so brilliantly and devastatingly that it actually begins to feel cold.

That is how powerfully I love you. You were so good to me Bonita that even now in my most vulnerable and hurt, lonely and confused, rueful and sad state that I cherish how passionately I feel - and still feel about you really - over this, over us. How can something have been so good that it makes the bad feel good?

Last night when I put on the chemise (the blouse really) that you gave me it was in the attempt to use something tangible about us that would help intensify how I am feeling. My hope was that it would insspire even more of an outpouring of emotion and that I would possibly, maybe, most certainly hopefully be able to capture as much of it as I could. But as soon as the cloth passed over my nose I was sent into a tailapin; it still smelled like you.

The are classic, and sometimes even cliched, expressions that are used which convey a hightened sense of emotions. Most of the time, at least to me, they have always seemed over the top and quite an exageration. Who really looses their breath? Who's heart really skips a beat? These things never seemed real, especially not to be applicable in relation to a real person or a real relationship.

But with you they are.

You make fairtales come true. You make nightmares pierce the soul. You invade thoughts without warning or mercy. You arrest love.

Maybe if I write enough you will become a story. Maybe you can become a mere character in a life looked upon from the outside instead of felt from within.

Maybe if I just keep writing I can exponge you...

there was a csa job offered at ord. it stopped my heart. and i wondered if you have contemplated the same way.

5am you, sick over words

love

I dont know much

but i know i love you.

and its what plagues me. i cant escape you. i though i could leave you back in chicago. i thought i could dwell on the hurt that i feel. i though i could simply concentrate on the fact that you have moved on.

but i cant.

i want to hate you

i want to forget you

i want to not need you

but i cant.

every time the green light on my phone blinks my heart drops, thinking that it might be you.

every time that the green light blinks my heart breaks, for it is not you.

i dont know what you have done to me, i dont know how this love has possessed me so.

but i cannot go a day without thinking of you, without yearning for you.

why do you have to be so wonderful?

why did you have to introduce me to this love?

why do you have to be you?

i do not doubt that you will find someone better than me.

i just fear the likelyhood that i wont find bette than you.

every time i hear the name anthony, jose, or God forbit Karen my mind goes awry.

every time i see the destination dubai on a bag tag or ticket i think of taking you there.

every time i think or speak my broken spanglish i am only reminded how it made you giggle.

every wrist, every shoulder, every hip and every eye that comes close to resembling yours sends me into a tither.

i can only thank God that no one has the skirls that you do, for i fear that i would lose it all together.

what have you done to me?

why didnt you teach me how to forget you?

bonita, you have my heart, even if you no longer want it.

yousic

Some of the music that is you to me.