It was 2:11 am.
It’s been raining for the last week with the exception of Mothers Day.
The sun and breeze were manageable to enjoy children playing outside or the smell of the grill doing what it does best.
Nights, however are silent. Still. calm. relaxing. disturbing.
I usually wake up around this time to go to the bathroom. My body naturally arises me to take care of business. Usually after using the little boys room I fall right back asleep.
But sleep came in the form of sporadic 6 minute intervals until sunrise.
I lay there with my gaze fixated at the ceiling.
My mind has thoughts spiraling throughout my cerebral confinement.
This night, however, I find that my thoughts are becoming increasingly difficult to express. But why?
Is it that I’m no longer the young man with aspirations? That I’m tired a lot because of tremendous over time at work? Is it….just what is it?
Then someone gave me their perspective…
I’d lost myself.
How did I get there? When did I get here?
For a majority of my life I’ve been what many consider a giving person. Hesitation wasn’t within question or reason. I just gave without keeping a piece…or peace for myself.
Then when I finally started to claim parts of self…I’d already given them to love.
Love is indeed grand and beautiful.
But it’s also punishing and demanding. Hello…compromise.
I became selfish when I was previously selfless.
My identity became love itself to where I could barely remember my middle name.
Those closest to me told me that I had the right to do so outside of marriage, but isn’t that the objective? To withstand unison of two souls into a team?
Am I even a team player or a solo shot?
Does love deserve my time? Or am I unworthy of love’s time?
To tell you the truth, I honestly haven’t the slightest clue.
There’s a part of me that thrives on solidarity.
I’ve always felt alone but I was never lonely.
Someone once described me as a wandering soul that would befriend all on his path.
Not good for a relationship I would assume if the will is to grow together.
Love wanted me just as I was but didn’t want to share my compassion, for others may take advantage of what isn’t of my own, but God given.
Was I wrong to deny love that right?
Is there favoritism in whom I give serenity to or is it meant for the world?
Somewhere in this treacherous puzzle of the unknown…I lost myself.
But then…did I ever really find myself from the beginning? Or has it always been a journey that only I could complete to discover who is Christopher Tyrone Ravenel?
As open of a book that I have the potential to be…a few pages remain stuck.
There’s a sense of fear when I close my pages because it can be interpreted that I’m hiding a few chapters that can make or break love…
I don’t know.
What I do know is that had I confronted my indescribable fork in the road in from the beginning, there would be no crashing of hearts. Then there’s no chance for leaking regrets to hurt others.
Is it true that two broken souls make one?
Is it true that you can’t give another love if love does not reside within self? They say you can’t truly complete another broken soul unless you yourself are whole. Are they right?
Did I protect love or did I inflict damage?
I ask God this. His silence is loud and the mouse’ whisper is like the lion’s roar.
I apologize to love…but I’m lost.
Do I fight for love until I can no longer swing my sword?
Or do I avoid risking further damage to an already weakened shield?
I don’t know what to do…
I’m lost in love, and in love I’m lost.