Before you waste your time on me… Let me tell you why I’m unworthy.  I’ve cheated and I’ve lied. I’ve manipulated many at a time.  I’ve seen the truth I’ve craved it. I lost it and forgave it, but it ran away again. It’s nowhere to be found.  So how can you trust me? Not when I’m this down, My mind has been put into perspective. I’ve seen your face and I’ve fallen so hard, that I must confess, That I can promise,  One day I will be at your side. One day I can promise that we will be, always. I can promise all of this, I just don’t know when it will happen. Whether in this life, or perhaps the next, But know I will always love you, until times’ end. I will try and try and try all over again.  I can promise you this, again and again and again…

“Stand by your man,” a phrase often repeated. A phrase Tammy Wynette so passionately told us. A phrase it seems she truly wanted us to listen to. And yet I wonder, did Tammy Wynette ever meet the men I have met? Did she ever meet the men of the 21st century and realize they weren’t men but in fact additions to a woman’s list of chores? It’s comical almost to truly think that women would stay at home while men would work. I mean, who knew men had brain cells? Okay, all joking aside, I truly do wonder what has happened to our generation. Men and women alike. Men used to be these incredible types of people. They used to be gentlemanly like, chivalrous, sweet, men used to be things we could count on to be a reality. A good girl was assured one. Now, I fear they are only things of fantasy, I fear listening to Elvis Costello is the closest I will ever come to even hearing a man speak, or rather in this case, sing! As for women, I’m kind of embarrassed of my fellow females. What have we become? We are honestly so terrible that men refuse to come near us. They’ve decided to go near each other instead. Why are we so fickle? We used to proudly bear the title of wife. Happily strut to be called glowing while pregnant. Shrug while waking up in the deepest darkest depths of the night hoping that that little screaming infant would fall asleep. What hopefully useless thoughts those are… As if the infant would ever sleep, a dream only movies could make come to life. And yet, as a woman, as a female, as a girl still dreaming, I would never want to lose those moments. I want to savor them. I want them to come so I can smile in the face of them. I want them to come so that I can see what being part of the female sex really means. Is that crazy? Is it crazy to want to marry a man? Is it crazy to hope that he would love me like a man in the 1900s would worship his wife? Is it crazy that I find those women to be the strongest types of women I’ve ever had the great fortune to witness? Is it crazy that I would give anything for one of those moments? The fact is I’m scared. I’m scared that by the time I go to fall in love, there will be no one worth falling for. I’m scared there will be no men left. I fear that at the end of this all that will be left are little boys who know nothing of life. I fear that there will be only little girls not knowing their paths. I fear that as women grow they will forget the basics of what being a girl entails. Already the sexes are confused. Already they feel unhappy and attempt to change themselves biologically. They are already uncoordinated. What will happen as time passes? What will they make of themselves then? I always believed us women would save the world. I always thought people would look to us for help, I fear I am mistaken. I fear instead of saving the world our weakness will instead shatter it. I fear so much. But perhaps, instead of fearing the inevitable, perhaps instead of even hoping, perhaps I should be the change I wish to see in the world. As this insane man once said, “Some are born great, some become great, and some, some have greatness thrust upon them.” Funny isn’t it? William Shakespeare, biggest drama king in the world, he said something so poetic, it just had to be true. He showed us that sometimes, the normal, the usual, the extraordinarily common,  sometimes those are the ones that have the power to channel the greatest of potentials. Sometimes, those are the ones in whom we have to place our hope. Sometimes what looks like a dead end, is simply  life pointing us in a whole new direction. 

So this is me, the girl known as ‘the idiosyncratic’ signing off. Til next time dear readers, and remember that what seems like the end, could only mean that there is an even better beginning on its way. 

It is the beating in the hearts around us. It is the pushing of the souls above us. The memories we can never take back. Strength is heartache, but it is also joy. Strength is the time we waste and the time we take. Strength is what we breathe in and out. Somehow it manages to make us. Somehow it doesn’t matter about anything but this immovable force. Strength is impossible in so many ways. We shouldn’t, in theory, even be able to experience strength. Yet, at the most opportune, and inopportune, moments, we do. We manage to call on an unthinkable source and harness it. There are days where I wonder if even strength feels tired, not weak, not sleepy, but tired… Truly just tuckered out from the marvelous thing that is life. Does strength ever simply wonder if at the end of the day it was all worth it? If there is anything left for strength itself? And sometimes I wonder if true strength is this thing we call upon, or if it comes in spurts. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever truly conquered and felt real strength before… If any of us have. And then I look at my life, my family, my world, my reality. And some of it is so hopeless that I decide to put some hope in strength, to believe in it. Because I believe that at the end of the day, strength may just be our savior. That it may just help us to live another day.

The cruel wake-up call. The unexpected. The life that was laid out for us to live. The secrets no one cares to confront, the words that could get you killed. The terrorist attacks and unnecessary riots. The innocent prisoners and guilty yet oblivious leaders. The more we watch, the more we listen, the more reality twists into fiction. The more we become a Gotham city than a Nation once known for being free. The more we become what those before us tried to prevent. The more we lean to what they ran away from. The more our reality becomes that monster we all folly over. The more we become our own destruction, because our reality is much more fickle than ever before. Because our reality is embarrassed of what we have become, it can barely even stand to try anymore. Reality, to put it simply, has left us in court, where a trial awaits us. And in this trial we lack an attorney. In this trial we lack what we have always prided ourselves in owning, humanity itself. In this trial we may fail. In this trial we base our defense upon more lies we believe to be true. And so, as we stand trial, perhaps it would do us some good to think rationally. Perhaps it would do us some good to accept that we have finally lost our grip on reality. Perhaps we should all sit tight and prepare, for there is so obviously a war brewing out there. Reality is gone. Reality deserted its post to save itself. And if reality had enough sense to leave, what do we do now?