Hokay!
There's been a lot of emo crap around here lately. Let's push it a bit further down the page, shall we? We'll replace it with things that are making me feel delightful today:
Our (mine and Dan's) birthday dinner on Sunday was lovely and very tasty, and I felt a wonderful, quiet sense of pride that I have made myself a life wherein I can dress up in a beautiful new dress, select make-up that compliments my face, wear my mother's wedding pearls and look fantastic; wherein I can go out to an expensive meal at a nice restaurant with my friends whom I love dearly; wherein I can ride home in a warm car, full and sleepy, listening to James Brown and talking about some aspect of American history with Marcus and Brian, just like we used to do around the dinner table at my mom's house. I have made this life, all by myself. I feel adult and capable and beautiful, and I feel that I am reaping the rewards of the work I've done.
In other news, I am the scourge of geeky men! I give them confidence and force them to laugh and rage and be interested, and I wallop them about the head and shoulders until they believe in themselves! RAOWR.
I feel unreasonably awesome. And, as I've been feeling more and more lately, I want to share this with all of you. Whoever you are, reading this right now. Whether I know you or not - hell, especially if I don't know you. I want to talk to you.
Hey. How are you?
I have a name, and so do you, but that doesn't matter much. Mostly online I go by Gentle, so you can call me that if it helps. I'll call you whatever you want.
Are you having a good day? I hope so. I'm not just saying that, either. I really do. Actually, that's a good thing to remember about me. If I tell you I care, if I tell you I hope you're happy, if I tell you I love you, I mean it. I mean it to the fullest and deepest extent of the word.
When I tell you I care whether you had a good day, I mean that I want to know all about it. I want you to tell me what was good, and what was bad, and why. I want to know what you saw that was beautiful, and how it made you feel, and what you thought about it all, and what you'll remember.
When I tell you that you're beautiful, understand that I mean you, sitting there in your chair or on your couch or at your desk. You, the person sitting there thinking that I don't mean you. You're exactly who I'm talking to. You are beautiful, and not in that inspirational-poster way that we're all beautiful people inside. That's bullshit. Your face is beautiful and your body is beautiful, and if I could touch you I would show you how true that is. Your voice is beautiful and your eyes are beautiful, and if I could see them I would look into them all day. Your mind is beautiful and your words are beautiful, and I want you to give them all to me so that I can listen.
This is not a selfless request. I am demanding your words, your work, your thoughts, your truth, because I want them. I will accept no less than everything you can give me. I want them because they make me happy.
So when I tell you that I love you, this is what I mean: I find you fascinating and enchanting and dazzlingly lovely, and I would like to watch you as long as you'll permit to see what you do and what becomes of you. I want the greatest happiness in the world for you, and I want to see what your face looks like when you get it. I want to see you weep, see what breaks you, and I want to help you put it back together again to see what you become after that. I will always want to hear from you, I will always be glad to see you, and I will always open my arms to you when you arrive. You will always have the best of me and all that I can give.
Yeah, you. Sitting in your chair.
I love you.
I'm kissing you and I'm holding your hand. I'm smiling into your face and giving you a little shake to make you laugh. If I made your day a little better, or hell, a little worse, tell me. Yell at me, rant at me, whisper to me, sing to me.
I'm listening.
