Vanity

Love does not hurt. Love loves you first and then waits for someone to catch up to you.

That is a TRUTH I had to learn the hard way. While living in Cleveland I have met, dating, flirted with, and obsessed over an array of interesting women. Often these women were not worthy of the beauty and artistry I bring to a relationship because they themselves had nothing comparable to offer. They were ill fitted for me because I am interested in being a complete human being and I struggle to fulfill that purpose. The women I chose were not.

The women I sought relationships with have been poorly suited for me in that they were not successful in trying to be their true selves. I do not judge them for this. I do not pity them nor do I blame them for the consequences of our failed encounters. My choice is potential mates says more about ME than it does about THEM. I am supposed to be a Diva of art and change.

I chose these women because I was afraid of my potential. I was afraid of what I could achieve with the right person by my side. When you live your right life

My historic line-up consists of: the girl who swings from lovers like Tarzan swings from trees; the girl who changes soul mates like I change socks; the girl who has a girlfriend but needs more attention so she seeks a mistress; the girl who wakes up every morning promising to be a better person, fails, then gets up the next day promising the same thing; the girl who loved me only when she was drunk; the girl who loved me as a filler for the girl she would rather be with; the girl who loved me for my money (HA jokes on her); and lastly and unfortunately most significantly the one who left me torn, brushed, beaten, by way of violent mental illness and antagonism disguised as love.

Thankfully after all of these failed experiments I eventually learned how be the lover I was meant to be. Not for anyone else but for me. I needed to be broken and emptied so that a true essence of  self appreciation grow inside of me. That enchantment could only fill me up after I had been ripped apart and gutted.

Grace came to me in a whisper with a slow purpose.  It soothed me after my love turned hard and gray. Grace reminded me that poetry is a savior and words are my shield. Grace was a hail of wood and dust that came crashing down on my head and flashed in front of my face like a rainbow of brown faces with high cheekbones and wide smiles. Grace walks like family and smells like home. Grace was my older brother asking me “where is she now. . .because I just want to "talk"” reminding me that I always have more than just myself.

Grace told me that love may be difficult, it may require work, it can be loud and tedious and obnoxious but it does not scare or frighten and it does not ever hurt. If your love hurts it is not love but a shell of the emotion mutated by fear and it should be pitied and shunned.

Our true selves deserve more and better. Our true souls recognize the energy that seeks to protect us and embraces it. When we try to fit harmful energy into our lives we bring our world into disarray and we find ourselves off balance. This lack of balance permeates into every aspect of our existence and ultimately causes the mutated melancholy we now know as depression. I have found a place for Melancholy in my life and I have embraced the moments of sadness for the wisdom that follows. create brilliant art. 

I look to the artists:

Charles Schulz

and

And Nina Simone.             

They conversed regularly with Melancholy and used it to create wonderful art and inspired millions with their work.

I have found a purpose in focusing on the future and I find that using them as a beacon is both comforting and steadying. I too will go Melancholy’s table and I will leave my worries there. If I give proper deference and show enough bravery I might just be able to leave with a piece of wisdom because I have a feeling my Sadnesss does not want me to go away empty handed.