It's just life
I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd.

metaphors and similes

Friday, Mar. 02, 2007
Actually it wasn't private for about 24 hours and then I realized I didn't want the whole world reading it because it was so personal. I probably could have just "preferred list"ed it.

Here it is...

(written on the plane to Austin, TX)

Saying, "I love you," is like standing a top a piece of sand and declaring, "I have conquered the highest summit!" Those three one syllable words, those three lackluster, overused one syllable words connot begin to convey the well of emotion spewing from the core of my being when I think of you. To summarize these feelings with a declaration like that would be like trying to bottle a violent volcanic eruption into a baby food jar.

You see me. See all the flaws and tragedies; yet, still call me, "beautiful." You make me want to jump in, head first, naked into a life which always includes you. I am afraid of the stingrays and giant jelly fish bound to be swimming all around us. I've always been the kind of person who fishes, fully clothed in the shallow break water. The first to run to shore when the waves get higher than my knees. You say it won't be easy, but it will always be okay. I trust you that way. I trust you because there is never sugar coating on your dung beetles.

These minor tragedies of late bore me. I want high drama. I want life changing, see things clearer drama. I want the kind of drama you see in indie movies and with prostitutes at Sunday mass. If you are going to be scandalous, then create some scandal worth printing on Page 6 (and 7 and 8). Lately, the drama is so vanilla. Give me bondage tape and nipple clamp drama. Give me a reason to leave. Give me a reason to never want to speak to you again. I would appreciate it. The view from the shore feels so much safer.

I would say, "you mean the world to me," but honestly, I have no idea what that means. I would pull every cliched phrase meant to convey these feelings I have for you, but that would be like humming a jingle and calling it an opera.

After this adventure in meatphor and simile, I have but one thing to call you, one thing that sticks better than epoxy: home. You are my home.

And that's worth more to me than billions of "I love you" posters strung around the world.

11:39 a.m. ::
prev :: next