Come Pick Me Up

I feel lost, alone…like a kid that was left behind in an amusement park. The rides are fun, they are a distraction…but at some point you want to find the person you came with so they can hold your hand and guide you back home. Does he try walking back home? Why didn’t anyone notice he was gone…not in the car on the way back? Did they mean to leave him there?

There are glimpses of how things could be. Could. I hate that word. I hate maybe, could, wish. Saying something could be ok or better, means you have no faith at all in it every coming to fruition. It’s admitting all you’re doing is sitting and waiting for things to magically happen, and if they don’t, you won’t fight to at least get the ball moving or move forward. You accept what is and remain stagnant.

I feel like…I’m chastised for not daring to dream, for being sad, for feeling normal things anyone feels…For feeling real emotions and staring them in the face, trying to work my way through them. Then I turn around and push the negativity aside, and dare to hope…only to be told “Well don’t go hoping too much, this is real life, not a youngster’s dream. Could. Perhaps”. So what is it? Do you want me to hope and try to be happy? Or do you want me to be a realist and live my life in the box I’ve been in my whole life? Stop. Go. Stop. Go. Don’t be sad. Don’t be happy. What am I supposed to be?

It’s a bit disheartening when people who are supposed to be by your side, encourage you to chase after something, are the first ones to cut your wings before you take off. As a friend, it is their duty to tell you of some details you may be ignoring on your quest for something new. Understood. But to look at the situation and point out how it’s bound to fail because it doesn’t follow some sort of pre-manufactured recipe for success is of help to no one. If we all followed the same rules and lived our lives according to what worked best for someone else…wouldn’t that pretty much guarantee we are bound to be unhappy forever? You like oranges. Oranges make you feel safe. Oranges work for you. Oranges make your life complete. Guess what? If I ate oranges as much as you did, or put all my trust in them, I’d be dead. Literally. I’m diabetic. Can’t have oranges all the time. Half a banana is what keeps me alive and is good for me. You hate bananas? What a predicament.

Silly example? I know. But sometimes I would like for just a bit of support from others…at least if they love me. Life isn’t scripted. Life isn’t perfect. There are no white picket fences. Beauty fades. Money fades. Some people have goals that include big names, titles…grandeur. Recognition. Good for them. That makes them happy. That’s not my cup of tea. I want to, well, live. I want to walk outside and not be thinking “I hope someone notices I’m wearing this or I can afford that. I hope I get a pat on the back for being a big shot and rubbing elbows with important people”. I want a peaceful life, where I can be passionate about what matters to me. Love. Family. Freedom. Music. Art. None of those things pay the bills…but all of those things are what make up what I value most, have always valued most in my life. The bills will be there. Work will be there. I have no desire to be known for wearing a power suit. I want to be remembered when I’m gone, for loving whole-heartedly. For giving my hand when needed. For contributing peace, equality, basic rights to this world. If I ever have a child, I want the kid to grow up knowing what matters most. What we take to the grave. We don’t take possessions. We take memories, life triumphs, loving moments. We take life with us. I want her to remember me for being there with her, dancing in the living room and being silly on random afternoons. I want her to always carry with her the I love you’s I told her through the day. To take my voice with her, and hopefully my advice. To remember my eyes and how hard I tried to pass on to her the good memories that were passed on to me. Not that I was busy making a name of myself so I could afford to give her material things, missing key moments in her life. Quality of life. Everyone talks about it, but does anyone really know what makes their life worth living? Even if you have to work hard to keep your family afloat in these tough times, those few minutes a day you take to actually LIVE your life, share yourself with others…we always remember that. Always. I had an outstanding childhood. We were dirt poor, I seldom had new toys, and my first cell phone was at 18 with my own money…and I can truly say I LOVED my childhood. Because my parents were my best friends and I never lacked memories. They were free. They were good. They will never fade. Which is why I share them with you, friends. Because they were too beautiful for me to keep for myself.

I want to walk out the door every morning, knowing I am about to change someone’s life that day. In a tiny, insignificant way…or in a larger scale. I want to share myself.

Someone come pick me up, will ya? The park is closing…they’re turning off the rides and it’s getting dark. I’m hungry. I’m cold. My feet hurt. I just want to go Home.