11/02/2002: Van Gogh and My Heart

Continuing with the past journal entries...

Van Gogh and My Heart
11/02/2002

"Please remember. Please remember. Our time together. I was yours and I was wild and free. Please remember. Please remember... me." -- Leann Rhimes

Do you ever wonder if anybody will remember you when you are gone? I don't mean dead... no... I mean simply gone... on a trip... moving away... anywhere... for however long... Do you think anybody will remember to miss you?

I don't know why this struck me. I know that people miss me when I am away... at least that is what they tell me. I don't know... maybe this doesn't make sense. I just want to know that somebody is waiting at home for my return.

I can't wait 'till next weekend! I'm going home to see my love... Brandon. He doesn't know that I am coming... that will make it all the better! I want to run out and give him a big hug and a long kiss. I want him to know that he was missed. It's a terrible feeling... the feeling that nobody really even notices that you are gone... I don't want him to ever feel that way.

I decided a few weeks ago that my life is like a Van Gogh. You see... most of his pieces are at night... dark... mysterious... lonely... cold. However, all of this darkness is contrasted often by bright oranges and yellows and exciting swirls and splashes of light! When a passer-by looks at the painting, he doesn't see the dark and despair. No, he sees the light... the excitement... the energy of the painter. That's my life. Often it is dark, scary, lonely, chilly.... but... then there is the light. Those bright splashes of color that draw the attention of the casual watcher. I live from one yellow swirl to the next. Often in the dark... but not for very long.

Brandon is one of those swirls. At the same time, he is often the darkness too. Love is funny that way I suppose. He makes me laugh so hard that I cry. And he makes me cry so hard that I laugh. And that's how I know that I can spend the rest of my life with him... because he's not just a part of my life... like just the dark, or just the light... but he's pieces from all of my life... part dark, part light. He's probably the only person that I feel knows me.

He still doesn't know all of me. I don't know if anybody can ever know all of me. That scares me a little bit. I mean, I've never been completely open or honest with anybody. I guess there will always be that fear of being left because of a discovery of my true self. I don't know if absolute trust is ever possible in this life. I guess that's only something I will know on my death bed.

Well... that's all my rambling for the night. I have nothing more to say. If I were a shoe... I would be a flip-flop.