Butterfly

I was there. In the middle of it all. I wanted to burst. I wanted to burst at the seams...I was in the bar. Drinks were being served to all and even me. I wanted to twitch and to steer to another universe. There was something inside of me rising....to all extremes.

Life is different when it is just not you in the picture. When someone else is mixed up in what you are mixed up in... What are you mixed up in? Life...it is life. Life is what you are mixed up in. Of course you can do it alone, for awhile. But after awhile life just gets lonely. It gets to a point where you can't do it alone. Where another human being needs to be in the mix of things. Because your heart craves community.

However, when that other human being is with you or beside you there is a chance their pain can affect you also. Lately, things haven't been happening to me but to the rest of my close circle. People are getting hurt, falling into pain, or struggling. The two paragraphs above I wrote a few days ago after an intense night. I expected it to be fun but it ended in being intense. My emotions were strong and held a lot of importance. I couldn't shake them off. At times I think I get attached and care too much to the point that I become a protector.

Since my mom passed away, death has affected me. When I hear someone has died...when it is my friend's friend, loved one, or relative...it hurts. It hurts in this weird way that is almost numb. I have obtained this new kind of empathy. Lately my friends have known someone who has died...who seems to be close to their family in some way. I find it hard to separate myself from it.

The three paragraphs were written over the month of January. The feelings I have been feeling havent just gone away or developed into something knew...or I haven't finished dealing with it. When I finish dealing with it, I do two things. I stop writing about it or I write about it and then its final.

They say that as an adult life just gets harder as you go. That it just becomes more complex and intertwined with more and more people. Your heart leaves traces on other people and they leave traces on you as well. It is as if you are a butterfly...their power leaves traces on your fingers...your imprints leave traces on them. If they give themselves away too much, they die.

Sometimes I feel like the butterfly. When I put myself in other people's live...when I let myself. I leave traces of me behind that I can never get back. Some pieces I wish I could steal back and other pieces I'm fine with giving away. I want to keep treating my heart and other people's hearts as butterflies. Because if you give too much of yourself away, you can lose yourself all together.

Though one thing I have learned is things like my familiarness with death, is something that I cannot choose to keep or lose. I give that piece of myself no matter what happens.