‘I wish that I could cry, fall upon my knees; find a way to lie, about a home I’ll never see’.

While trying to make sense of what and why I’ve been feeling emotionally worn lately, it all became quite clear when I heard the above lyrics from ‘Five for Fighting’s, Superman’. I’ve wanted so much in this past week for my heart to cry and not feel forced that it must be strong. I’ve wanted to fall to my knees in desperation, but again my heart won’t let me; all because of a place I can’t see, yet in my heart, call home.

I feel I’m in a place where I don’t belong, and that this home I want so badly to go back to is now the home I’ll have to make do with here in this world. The hardest obligation in doing so is living among people whom I don’t quite seem to share the same needs with; yet while I’m sure and know there’s a few that I do, I feel it unlikely I’ll ever find them. The idealistic and unwavering echoes of my long surrendered heart often remind me I’m different and that I shouldn’t become what I’m not. It’s not a mystery to be lived, or a problem to be solved, but instead a destiny to accept.

I grew up with the understanding that we all have a cross to carry throughout our lives. But all I really feel is the grandiose cape hanging on my back from off my heart’s compelled and intangible power to do what’s right. It’s not a misguided purpose, but an unmistakable strength given to the likes of each and every one of us in this duration on earth we call life. I did after all beg God to be this person; maybe I wouldn’t be at such a loss or need to appear enigmatic if I hadn’t been shown life with such clarity; but then if that were true, my heart wouldn’t be what it is now.

My heart has become infatuated with the loveliness of another, but even your smile acts like Kryptonite to my heart by where an uncontrollable and agonising yell dares to consume me; to bring me to my knees even such is the intensity of my foolish yet determined admiration - I can only allow myself to feel so close to you until I’m brought to a paralysed condition. I fret temptation and how much my heart can really handle. Perhaps reticence and old ways is best adhered to.

I have never felt free from the secrecy of my heart, despite its best efforts, but sometimes... ...sometimes freedom is in knowing you’ll never really be free - that what would make you so is instead what you sacrifice – and is otherwise called acceptance; but do forgive me father for I am not yet ready to acquaint destiny with the aforementioned word. I do not want to be conquered by what I feel makes me different. And how naive of me to think I really have the choice.

'You have made the depth of my heart grow fonder, and newly found is the love I have to offer. Might my heart and love be yours to claim if fate is indeed so practical'.