Two Islands Are Not An Archipelago

"I was just tellin' your old man..."

"You got a nice-lookin man there babygirl, you betta hold on to that one!"

"I told him that you two could just bring something as a couple."

Sorry, Holly.

This boy is not my boyfriend.

It's funny to me that once upon a time, I was desperate for this. I wanted the relationship I had to be acknowledged, to be seen as a pair instead of two individuals. But time wounds all heels, and I've stopped wanting that. He decided that he didn't want that quite some time ago.

Don't get me wrong, there's still love there, but we aren't a couple. We just aren't.

Me and him are really good at being adults together. Our bills get paid on time, we agree on most of our household decisions, things stay reasonably clean.

But we're not good at emotions. He's withdrawn and has little to no sense of empathy; I'm needy and desperate. I want someone to know me inside and out, to read me over and over like a good book. He doesn't even want to walk into the library.

He's been more affectionate lately, truly. He gets me dinner and rubs my neck. Always a tactile person, he takes care of my physical needs, but I'm more than that. I'm stories and dreams and thoughts and memories and words, words, words.

I know that he's always been an island. And I guess I thought that together, we could be an archipelago. But and island is still an island. I thought that in time, he would open up to me and things would be good. But I can't keep tearing down the Berlin Wall by myself. He doesn't get the privilege of being my boyfriend until we can fulfill each other emotionally.

Every time someone refers to him as my significant other, I want to scream. No, he's not my boyfriend, I'm too alone for that to be true.

The Heart is an Ink Pot

I'm an extremely fortunate person in so many ways. My friends are few but true, my job is less than I'd like but more than I'd ever hoped for, and the people and places I find in the role are phenomenal beyond anything I could imagine.

More than any of the good and wonderful things I'm surrounded by, I'm immeasurably glad that I've been nothing less than blessed with the ability to recognize those moments while they're still with me.

I was driving over the Bay Bridge for work today, and just as I reached the crest of it I could see the gentle hills and greenery of the western shore laid out before me. Though the sun was shining on me, there was shadow and fog on the trees that made this incredibly normal place look like a fairy tale world. I've been to the western shore tons of times(it's where all the stuff is), but it had never quite appeared to me the way it did at that moment.

The other day, the muse came over to hang an old wooden collage for me. Through the afternoon, I learned about him- that he likes my favorite bands and plays guitar, that he thinks my dreams aren't crazy. All from one afternoon that promised to be routine. (Plus, my collage got hung. It looks super fantastic.)

My best friend Tony often tells me that I'm like a child, and he's right. I'm open to the universe and constantly in awe of the wonders it presents, both big and small.

When I do, my heart feels like an overflowing ink pot, and any sort of quill I can find to scribble those feelings down I'll take.