This Was Our Song
I have that crazy feeling inside my head now. It is an itch I can’t scratch and an ache that won’t go away. It is you. You are to blame. You are thinking about me or thinking about us.
Don’t know exactly what you are thinking. Can’t say whether it is positive or negative. Can’t tell if you are dreaming about what could be or lamenting what was. I just know that I am on your mind just as you know that I am on yours.
Sometimes this feeling makes me want to howl with frustration. I want to go outside and run with the moon and unleash my rage against the sky. I want to run until I am exhausted and just collapse wherever I fall but I can’t and I won’t.
I can’t because I am unwilling to share that side with anyone else. I am unwilling to expose it because it won’t be understood. It will be dissected, discussed and misinterpreted and I can’t deal with that. Not because I am not capable of it but because it is just too much. It is just more than I am willing to give and that is reason enough not to do it.
So I listen to Mick singing Visions of Paradise and I think about when this was one of our songs.
“Don’t tell me when
Something is beautiful
And don’t tell me how to
Talk to my friends
Just tell me the names of
The stars in the sky
What’s your favorite song
Tell me the names of the
Lovers you had
Before I came along
Don’t put your arms around me
And don’t hold me tight
‘Cause I could get used to
Your vision of paradise
And don’t ask me where
All of the pain goes
‘Cause you make me feel
That I don’t know myself
You say that you want me forever
And I say that love is no crime
So tell me the names of the children
We’ll have at the end of the line”
I wonder sometimes if maybe I am crazy and confused. I wonder sometimes if wishes and wants have got me so damn mixed up that I can’t tell what is from what was. And then Mick sings that line using your heart and not your head and I wonder if he is talking to us.
The sensible, grounded man that lives inside me says that it is just a song that was constructed to appeal to people. It was written so that we would relate and that is what I am doing, relating to it.
But goddamn it woman, I feel it. I sense it. I know it. Just as I could tell when you were about to pick up the telephone to call me I know now what it is I sense but I don’t know what to do about it.
Don’t know whether to walk, no run the other direction as fast I can so that I can try to forget. But here is the deal, life is nothing but a series of moments in time set against the backdrop of the people who share them.
We did more than share a moment. We built an entire universe and lived a thousand lives inside our secret world. We loved and we lived. Man loves woman and girl loves boy.
I don’t have to ask your permission to love you and I don’t have to live in the past. I can pretend that once was is just a memory and I can move on past the moment. That is the beauty of choice and free will. But I can also admit, accept and acknowledge that something more is going on and I can follow the signs through the mist and blaze a trail through the fog.
I can see if that helps that which once was morph into that which is and that is what I intend to do. Life is short and our grip is tenuous. So I will do what I do best and dance in the fire and dare the flames to burn me. I will climb the hills and walk through the valleys because that was the promise I made to you and I will hold myself to it.
And I will do what is required so that I can determine whether the ghosts I see are the spirits of the future or the shades of the past. And in the midst of it all I will continue to hold out my hand so that you can take it. Because I never stopped being your hero and I never gave up.
homemom3 January 10, 2015 at 2:35 am
May she one day see this post and realize just how much you really love her.
The JackB January 10, 2015 at 2:09 pm
@homemom3:disqus Thank you.
diane tarantini January 29, 2012 at 7:18 am
Awwww! How wonderful it is to be loved by a writer. I hope she returns and wraps your hand in her elegant fingers and whispers, “I missed you. A lot.”
Jack January 29, 2012 at 2:51 pm
That would make for a good story.
shah wharton January 28, 2012 at 3:13 am
I thoroughly enjoyed this emotive write Jack. I was gripped throughout. Thanks! 🙂 X
Jack January 29, 2012 at 1:08 am
Thank you, I appreciate your time and your feedback. Always good to know that we are hitting the mark.
Claudia January 27, 2012 at 7:35 pm
Just beautiful Jack…I always want the story to continue and I ALWAYS want there to be a happy ending…. You are so good at captivating your reader in your story…..your gift!!
Jack January 27, 2012 at 9:57 pm
Thanks. I have a lot more that you can read at http://welovejack.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/jacks-story-jan-27-1st-update
Some of it you have probably seen before but a lot of it is new.
The Hook January 27, 2012 at 3:23 pm
Love is a bitch sometimes, right?
Jack January 27, 2012 at 3:44 pm
Yes it is.
Kaarina Dillabough January 27, 2012 at 8:45 am
Choice. Free will. That.is.all. Kaarina
Jack January 27, 2012 at 9:37 am
There are choices and opportunities that rise up every day and it is up to us to decide how to respond to them.
But in your words, when the student is ready the teacher appears. The question I ask is do we recognize the teacher.
Gina January 27, 2012 at 8:40 am
I don’t know how you do this. Does it just come spilling out?
Jack January 27, 2012 at 9:35 am
Spilling out is one of describing it. I just see it in my mind. There are countless stories inside that keep asking me to share them and sometimes I do.
Frume Sarah January 26, 2012 at 5:13 pm
Beautifully composed piece.
…to go outside and run with the moon…
This really resonated with me. I think that the moon has a powerful pull over us. Its mystical aura is both frightening and calming.
I really liked this, Jack.
Jack January 26, 2012 at 5:35 pm
The moon really does have some sort of strong connection to people. It is a sort of magical thing.