My Truth and Reconciliation
I like the thought of being a hopeless romantic. There I said it. I wouldn’t say that I am, but I definitely like the thought of being that sappy. I won’t lie about it.
Sometimes, I feel like I’m battling between who I am and who part of me wants to be.
I recently rediscovered my love for one of my best friends songs, which he wrote at a time when he and his, now fiance, were broken up. Its an amazing song about love and the message he’s trying to get across to the love of his life.
Isn’t the movie playing in your head right now so Notebook-ish, it makes you want to vomit?
When I’m listening to this song, i’m encouraged and discouraged both at the same time. While I’m encouraged by the manner in which it was written, giving me hope that I might too, one day, write a song as good as this, I’m hopelessly discouraged because no matter what, I will never be able to write a song with as much passion and genuine longing.
Seriously. Nicholas Sparks, eat your heart out.
This brings me to my point.
My boy found a love so consuming and addicting that he couldn’t help but wear his emotions on his sleeve and put his heart on display. While he was touring the country playing this song, live, in city after city the emotion he felt with this song must have been almost unbearable.
This is where my war is waged. I like the idea of being that in love with someone. So much so, that a song, sung at the top of my lungs, full of the words that at best fall drastically short of conveying the message I need to get across, putting my heart out there for the world to see, is an option I eagerly accept.
But I’m not that person. And I haven’t experienced that kind of love. That is my truth.
Who I am hates who I want to be and who I want to be is scared of who I am.
I want to be that guy who makes 365 pink, napkin roses for a one-year anniversary. I want to be that guy who falls asleep talking to my “boo” on the phone, at 3am. I want to be the guy who buys a pint of her favorite ice-cream and snags a copy of The Notebook, “just because” and makes sure the blanket situation is ample while double checking whether or not I can rub her feet.
You get the picture, I want to be “that guy.”
Who I am is a caustic, cynical, calussed, commitment-phobe.
Who I am says, “Who you want to be is soooo ghhheeeyyyyyy…”
And therein lies my problem….
