by Kram Rellum
A letter to myself to realize how much a very special woman meant to me.
|I sit here, it’s very early morning and I haven’t slept since you and I were last together. Sharing a very beautiful serene time. You sleeping beside me, the rise and fall off your body from your breathing, thumb stuck in your mouth, looking for all the world so peaceful and so innocent. I could do nothing for you but try to engulf your sweet small frame into mine as if I was trying to absorb you. The whole time I was thinking how undeserving I was of you. How fate had a horrible habit of showing me what makes me the happiest and then yanking it away and saying to me,” you’re unworthy of true love or happiness”. “If you only chose that road instead of this one, I may have granted you what you need.” But alas I am condemned to a life where I am known as the happiest man, who has everything going for him and I shudder. Why am I always expected to be the strong one? Why am I the stone upon which everyone anchors? The peace maker, the father, the brother, the son. I am truly the loneliest, but no one ever penetrates that far into my soul. They always stop short thinking they’ve seen me. When in reality they have only seen the painted face of a pathetic lonely clown. I read your book tonight and have to wonder if you think you really can see people for who they truly are. Or do you think you do and like everyone else stop short when you think you’ve seen the reality and do not delve further? You said you didn’t understand me and I know exactly what you were talking about. Because my “mask” my “painted face” my WALL is stronger than the world and it breaks my heart. There is so much to me that I want so desperately to share it and can’t. No one goes beyond what they think is me. They always stop short, as if they have it figured out, like I can be summed up in three or four witty sentences. There is no muse for me; no one could be that because I am afraid to open my heart to anyone. Instead I keep it well guarded in the cavern of my soul. Wishing, no hoping? Actually begging is more apt of a word, for my soul to be free of the pretend games, the niceties, the total day in day out of my pathetic existence. Never to find love, and never to be graced with what I truly long for in this life. Blessed and cursed is how my life goes. The God’s say here is a safe and sane life, with security and obligation and love. But you shall remain limited and passionless for all your day’s.
But again I ask myself, “Why do I speak of these things to you Bev?” As if your life isn’t already too complicated at this point. It’s the selfish part of me that reaches out to you at a time that’s inconvenient. I don’t have any expectations for you and me, merely hopes and dreams that I’m not entitled or worthy to have.
So I leave you with this question, “Who’s to be your Muse?” Who is strong enough to stand before you and behind you at the same time? Cheerleading and inspiring you to the greatness that we all see within you. When are you going to realize that it’s your turn to live and dream and hope, instead of being someone else’s inspiration? Am I strong enough for that role? I honestly don’t know, because always my pure love for you will tint my opinions. But at the same time it will allow me to give away the best thing that’s happened in my life, in oh so long. And that is why I am the saddest happiest man on the planet.
I have been too long this way and for the life of me I will remain so, not by choice but by grand design, call it fate or destiny. The bottom line is the same and I plug on, half a heart and half a soul. Fettered by the chains of my mind.
“When I was a child ,I caught a fleeting glimpse. Out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone, I cannot put my finger on it now. The child has grown, the dream is gone.”-Pink Floyd