Abandoned Baby Blues

PRELUDE: This is the kind of post that typically gets hits but doesn’t get any comments because people assume that I'm going through something. That these words convey my reality at this very moment, but that’s actually the farthest thing from the truth. I am a thinker so I think about a great deal. At this particular moment I tapped into an emotion from my distant past and chose to hold true to my pledge of "revealing everything while still leaving something to the imagination." So I stand before you all Naked With Socks On to convey a message, a passing mood. See, I am a writer and thoughts can’t exist in my head for too long without getting expressed in the written form, so this is what I wrote.

I can't recall what exactly led to this point in the conversation, but here we were in a heated and emotional exchange. This was probably breakup #542 and I'm not ashamed to say that I felt the tears welling up behind my pupils long before I allowed them to trickle down my puffy cheeks. They had been resting there quietly behind a fragile glass door for far too long, and here she comes with these fuckin’ questions. Prying open the lock that my heart kept closed out of fear and necessity.

She could hear my voice cracking through the telephone and showed genuine concern for my well being. But I was not in the mood for comfort. I could give a fuck about anything else but the possibility of she, or anyone else, pitying me.

"Don't worry about me," I began. "You worry about yourself.... I'm gonna be alright."

"But I care for you deeply and I just wanna see you happy."

"Don't worry about my happiness. Worry about your own fuckin happiness. This ain't your problem.... This.... This is all me... My issues... My shit..."

"But... You're hurt, I can hear it... I don't know what to do..."

"Don't do nothing, just worry about yourself. I don't need anyone.... This is my cross to bear."

This exchange went on for God knows how long. All I know is I didn’t want to discuss it. I didn’t want to share. I just wanted to go. Finally, I just had to get off the phone. I'm a man and men don't behave like this. We can't show emotion. We can't shed tears. We just hold them all in and save them for fucked up moments like this. But I couldn't let her in like this. I couldn't make myself this vulnerable. Not to her. Not to anyone. I had no reason to drag her, or anyone else, into this.

I wasn't crying over her or the possible loss of her. Like I said, I can't even recall what got us here, all I know is that I was crying and I didn't like it. But I couldn't stop it. There was nothing else I could do, so I was banishing her for her own good. That's a lie... It was for my own good. Wait... That's another lie. It was for what I thought was my own good.

Here was a woman concerned for my well being. A good person with a great heart looking out for me and my emotions. And what do I do? Vehemently dismiss her? You damn right. I can't give her that space. How dare she care about me. (I actually said this to her). I'm the caregiver. I'm the one that has to be there for her and every other person in my life. I can't allow myself to be in a space where I need someone else. Where I am not in control of the situation, or at least appear to be. That ain’t who I am. That’s what I do. I fix things. I repair. I find the solution for every possible problem except my own. So fuck her for trying to fix me. Nah, it can't happen. I have to feel needed not needy.

Daddy wasn't there. He left. So fuck him. Granddaddy was there. But then he left, too. It wasn't his fault, though, God was just ready to see him and I can't be mad at Him for that, right? That would be sinful, right? So I just say fuck everybody else. Fuck her for trying to get me to open up. Fuck her for caring. And fuck me for sharing.

So here I sit an abandoned little baby trapped in a grown man’s body with my head in my hands, tears trickling down my face and a broken heart bursting through my shirt like a Roman candle on the 4th of July. Alone. Quiet. Unfulfilled. Dismissed. Damaged. Jagged. Defiant. Structured. Scattered. Buried. Mystified. Deceased. Unknown. Unclaimed. Strong and weak at the same time. Mournful. Distressed. Stressed. Fully dressed, but still Naked With Socks On.

*Sigh*

INHALE…

EXHALE…

Thanks for listening...