WolvesOfPatience

And it has nothing to do with how I hear most people describe what it is to them,

It has nothing to do with belief in a higher power,

Not that I don't believe in certain things, I do,

But that's not what I think about when I pray.

There aren't really words,

It's just a feeling,

A feeling like when you plant your feet in the midst of a storm and let it wash over you.

I could never describe it completely to someone who hasn't already felt it,

But the closest I can come to a word, is trust.

When there's nothing else you can do,

Somewhere between the shadow, the unknown, and the light?

The tree that falls, but doesn't make a sound,

And all the people that gather around,

Saying that you're fine as long as you don't cry when you hit the ground,

I tried so hard, all the time,

Well...none of that matters now.

There's something,

On the tip of my tongue,

At the back of my brain,

In the way,

Something I forgot to say,

Something I heard while I was in my sleep,

Something I saw that made me weep,

Something I thought of the last time I saw you, but didn't speak.

Something I can't seem to break.

Something I gave you that you can never give back,

Something that caught me lost and off track,

Something that makes up for what my soul lacks.

Something that bleeds into everything.

Something that had me on the edge of my seat,

Something that made me forget to breathe,

Something I felt, but couldn't see,

Something magnetic.

Poetic, electric,

And something that feels like lightning.

Something I'm searching for, but haven't quite found yet,

There's something,

I'd been burning up for years.

The flames licking all around me, expanding, on the verge of imploding in on myself.

And I asked for help, or at least some understanding,

All the time.

And everyone heard, and no one really listened.

They would say, "go to a doctor, get some help",

Like it's that fucking easy in the first place.

And if that didn't work, they'd say, "you must not want help. You must want to suffer."

Or my personal favorite, "you're just not trying hard enough. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps like I did",

Completely ignoring the fact that I'd been intricately shielded from every same opportunity that they had every chance to take.

And now that I've finally imploded, turned to ash, past the point of no return, now that things are worse than they've ever been,

Instead of there being any semblance of help or understanding whatsoever, there is only more judgment, worse than ever before.

Basically, my point is, you could be hanging off the edge of a cliff for what seems like forever, begging, screaming for help, over and over, and over, until you're blue in the face, and somebody will still come up to you, look you dead in the eye, and say, "oh but you don't really want help. You never did. This is all your fault."

I've always found the number 3 to be very menacing,

You know, it has two very lovely curves, but they come together to make a point,

Like it's protecting itself, a kind of threat, or a warning.

Sometimes I think certain people are like the number 3.

They entice you, lure you in with their softness and loveliness, but sooner or later, out comes the sharpened threat.

Sometimes in the form of words, a tongue shaped silver dagger aimed straight at your back,

In the dark, when your defenses are down.

Sometimes in the form of an action, usually something seemingly benign, just a hint, as if to say,

Watch your step,

You wouldn't want to cross me, or something bad might happen,

To you, or around you,

And you might not know when it's coming, or what it is, but when it does come, you'll know it was me.

Anyway,

I always liked the number 4 better.

Just straight lines intersecting, no tricks, no promises, just honesty.

It's stable, steady.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to find more people who are like the number 4.

It might not be as comfy or cozy looking as the number 3, but at least it's honest,

And that's what makes it comforting, I think.

Anyway,

I wonder what kind of number I'd be, maybe a 6 or a 9,

A swirl coming to a point, or a point coming to a swirl, or both at the same time,

Just like all the thoughts racing through my mind, ricocheting, folding in on themselves, one after the other, after the other, after the other,

And if I'm lucky, they start to form a pattern.

The melding swirl, the snake that eats itself, the shape of a question,

A question with no answer, or maybe just better left unanswered.

I have loved and cared for you throughout many phases of both of our lives.

I still love and care for you, beyond words,

And you better never bother coming around here ever again.