by Rafaela Peralta
Contributing Author, Conscious Reminder
It begins and ends with you, a man with two heads and four faces. I see you clearly. I see the you with parts of concealed and unhealed, searching for the antidote in the essence of others.
Wishing to be what you struggle to find within. The simplicity of you, barricaded by the lies and false reflections you expose to yourself and others as truth. The truth will set you free.
I have freed myself from precious appearances. Within everything left unsaid, exposed your true self in silence. Master of none, the pressure belonged to you and I took the blame for your sickness, diagnosing and medicating it as if it was mine.
What blows my mind is that the whole time, I was simply a living reflection of you. I always saw the best in you in ways you didn’t want me to see, to a person living in authenticity, genuinely soulfully living beyond the hurt and pain, a person healed fully.
The truth will set you free, I promise you my friend. A mirror to you, you see how destructive I became. Didn’t like the reflection you saw, as it echoed your own pain. Things you wish you could do to yourself, I did in vain.
As bee to a flower, you took the sap reversing reality, making it seem that you were the one pollenating me. All this, to give yourself the honey comb of your desire, a manufactured essence of you. Sadhguru’s lines ain’t God my friend.
Taking them as fact, blind to the message behind them. Running from your soul, attention on your mind, building the idea of who you are on a soulless foundation. That shit crumbles babes.
When the pollen ran out, and you saw the weak stem exposed, the leaves of my soul wilting. You are not nourishing, as much as you want yourself to be. I failed a mission I never consciously signed up for.
Mission impossible became possible only when left exposed in the arms of reality. Intellectual you, realized but never truly understood. The only one that can heal you is yourself my friend, but not in the ways you practice. Keeping it all within, hoping change will provide the exterior measure of your development and growth.
Honey bee, this leads to more pain. The core remains the same. Shifting outsides do not mean growth at the foundation. You can change your hair, your clothes but still my love the meaningful parts of you stay stagnant. I blew smoke up your ass for my own reasons. You look good to eyes that are not keen, but beneath it all you are what you are. You know I see.
You have narcissistic tendencies that cannot hide behind fabric or leather. My dear, I love you still. But not the person I knew through speech. The face that hid himself behind doors and silence is the one that will forever have my affection. Words came easy when you were unafraid of the truth.
The real parts of you made permanent through understanding. No room for interpretation, no room for gray. The bravery to reveal the real permanently on paper. Reality no longer questioned, but embraced and integrated. My love remains with the part of you I could never speak to. It belongs to the one I saw glimpses of, and to those moments felt the real, felt easy.
You became afraid of the deep. No face prepared, unmasked and vulnerable. It is better to start again, fresh and unknown than to stand in the bed you believe truth soiled. You already know we were alike in this way, but I have outgrown you.
Love is patient and kind, and my love you are afraid to be loved for who you are, as am I. I see the discomfort within you. The fight between the person you revealed to yourself in silent spaces and the one you show to the light. But my dear, the light sees all that is there and still loves with all its might.
Once again, you chose to run away and I chose to stay. These actions rooted in old and comfortable systems. I love you, I don’t want you. I love myself but I don’t want myself. The twisted games played. Both seeking peace, knowing we are drawn to destruction. Seeking simplicity knowing we over indulge in extravagance.
Once again, we fit each other like a puzzle piece. Unlocked the door, those old habits became the key to the image of freedom and peace we seek. The image is not rooted and will provide the temporary high, the sigh of relief that’s instant and gratifying.
I swallowed pills that changed shape and texture. But the medicine remained the same. I remember when I started running away, diving head first into confusion. The remedy was no longer working, maybe if I took another pill and another, I could mistake the fake for real. The lies for truth and the idealized image of love would remain.
This summer did a number from which we were never brave enough to confront and recover from. The memory of the you I knew, the man that sat unknown in silent spaces acted as motivation. The hope that the destruction done, would give way to ash and together we would rise healed, united, feet grounded on earth.
The destruction distorted the connection I had with myself, and my internal compass became you. I trusted your version of reality, noticing the mine only enticed conflict and anger within you. How the tables turned.
The responsibility, strength and knowing I once knew, but never understood became your possession, but a possession is simply an object held. The one who holds it is not necessarily its creator. What is mine will remain and what is yours will stay the same.
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