That place between "I'm over you" and "I'm kidding myself"

As I sit here thinking about all the things I could write about that could amuse you, I find myself just simply wanting to lay out what is completely in my heart right at this very moment. Ok, here goes. I'm over it. No longer do I feel jealousy about you and other women. No longer do I hang onto when you're going to reply back to me. Truthfully, you had the moment, the time to be a friend to me. You missed that chance. I am ok with that. I don't need you to come visit me when you come back home. I don't need your empty words and superficial conversation. I don't need you skimming on the surface as a forever acquaintance. I see what you're offering me, and I'm telling you: I want more. Not more as in more money, more six pack, more biceps, more tan, more tall... No, more you. Just you. As you are. We will always be imperfect, our skin won't always be supple, and your muscles won't last forever, but that's alright. I don't care. I want your laugh, your humor, your kindness, your weirdness, even your shame, your obsessions, your losses, your fears, I want all of them. To me, your imperfectness is your beauty. There is nothing more wonderful to see how utterly human you are. When you let yourself go, when you step down from your alter, when you stop pretending to be some demi-god. When you let yourself be the man you were destined to be, and not be afraid to cry, to admit you've made mistakes, to let yourself love another, to let yourself love you, to allow me to love you. You don't have to use brawn to make me still love you or want you. Seeing you as the man God has made you to be and see you grow closer to Him is what makes me drawn to you. As a shepherd's sheep know his voice,  as they trust him to show them the way, they want to follow him. He surely is no herder. No, he draws his sheep near, they follow because they want to. You are no herder, you were meant to be a draw. Stop being this herder, you aren't him. However, my words are in vain, you will never hear them. I pray though, that when you find a woman, she would be drawn to you and you to her. I must let go. Your chance has gone, I must let go. I don't need you to come see me, I don't even need you in my life. I want you to come see me, and I want you in my life. This, you will never know, you will never understand. You are not ready. You are not ready to let go, to be you. You still hide behind your mask. I just ask: take it off, if not for me, then for everyone else who would be blessed to see the real you. Stop being this herder of people. Be this glorious man that I would love to see, who blesses me with his love and his guidance and draw to him and the Lord. The draw, not the herder.

Heimdall, open the Bifrost. I want to go to Neverland.

Here I am, sitting at my grandfather's desk in my room at my parents house writing this entry in my new IPad, drinking water, hands dry and hurting from digging in the clay soil in our front yard, mud smeared on my forehead; happy, content. I sit here wondering about all this precious time that is going to pass before me in the next 25 months of my graduate program. I arrived home a month ago post graduation from KSU with my undergrad in Family Studies and Human Services (a "degree in mothering,"as many of my male friends called it). I miss it. The transition from living independently for five years and now moving back in with my parents has not been the easiest shift I have ever made. I love my parents, and I am grateful that they have let me live in their house rent free and pay for my food. I really have it good. There is that 23 year old young, very young part of me that is saying "no, I think I would rather spend the money I don't have so I can prove to myself just how irresponsible I can be." I would eat practically nothing, and live in a shoebox just so i can say that I do not live with my parents; ridiculous. My parents are very frugal with their money and very responsible with how they spend it. I however, am not. Money has never been an object for me. I have never in my life wanted to make a lot of money. Making enough to support my family is of course wanted, but wanting a husband who owns a yacht and three houses is not appealing to me. To each their own though. My parents do not want the same things either. They are happy with what they have, and have saved over the years. I realized that I am a horrific saver. I do not know if it is just me or my generation as a whole (or the whole United States and Europe)that has a heck of a time not spending money; money that does not exist. I have learned that this is definitely something I need to work on, however, I loathe it. Thinking about working on my finances makes me want to poke out my own eyeball. But, I must grit my teeth and bare it. Ultimately, it would do me much better than to be in debt up to my eyeballs ( if I have any left by the time I learn to save). Being a grown up is not exactly something I look forward to. No matter what I say about being independent, I talk about the part of being independent and doing whatever I want while parents foot the bills. Yeah, my kind of "independence." No, paying bills is not fun. I have only paid a few in my lifetime, so I really do not know what it's like to be self sufficient. I only think that I do. Right now, child's play. The truth is, I really do not want to grow up. I could stay this age for a long time. Not married, no children, friends, no bills, things always provided without knowing from where they came, no worries. Sounds incredibly unrealistic and selfish, does it not? It seems that time is moving slowly sometimes, and at others, incredibly fast. I just celebrated my 23rd birthday. I remember when my brother was born. He will be 12 this year. It is so hard for me to think that I will lose my last two grandparents and eventually my own parents. If I could stop time for a moment and walk through a sea of all those I have ever met, look into their eyes, see their soul, who they are, their hopes and dreams, their background, their trials and triumphs, know their children, know their family, know the deepest roots of them....oh, I would. The great thing is though, time does not have to stop for that to happen. Do it now, there is no greater time than now. You see, if I were to escape to Neverland, things would always be the same. We couldn't see others grow. Yes, we would fight hook valiently and stand for our brother and sisters against the evilness of the only grown up in Neverland, but would that fight ever end? What if Peter neve came back? Even worse, what if Peter never grew up? He would still be in Neverland fighting Hook to no end. Instead, he left. He grew up. He fought his battle with passion AND rationale. So, even though the girl in me wants to fly to Neverland, I would never grow up to fight my battles...