In Emerald Slippers

To the filipino boy who couldn’t date me because I was black and his parents were racists and he was too weak to unshackle himself from their psyche although he “loved” me. Bless you. 

I was talking to a sweet though significantly absent friend of mine who allows me a kind intimacy and freedom of speech that is entirely otherworldly. I can tell the truth and know that it stays between us. She tells me her truths and I keep them as well. She asked me how I was doing and I told “I’m doing fine”. She naturally knew exactly what that meant. Then we moved on and spoke about love and the complexities of the relationships we’ve created. She asked about my partner and I told her that I cared for him because he doesn’t change. He makes the same mistakes. He says the same great things. He thinks I’m fabulous and even funny. But most important of all, he stays the same. I really had no clue that was what I liked most about him.

I realized something important right then about myself and the world. Everything changes all the time and I felt it was my right to change. My life has never really been “stable”. I’ve always been looking for my own place to call home. I’ve always needed somewhere to belong. Even now that I’m in my own home I’m still somewhat alien and different.I still don’t actually belong. But that is the crisis of children of the world as I like to call the displaced, immigrants, refugees and all people who move for livelihood or for fear. Home may just be our physical body. Its the only permanent thing we have while roaming the world.Everything else changes.

I understand that I am still growing and change is inevitable so making the decision not to change is stupid. I may just like who I turn into and heaven forbid I try to stop that. But what can I do to stay the same when I feel very incomplete and undone. I’m really still restling with that. Do I even want to stay the same at the moment? Does that make me difficult to love knowing that three years from now I may not seem like the same person or dress the same. I enjoy phases. What if I go through one of those and miss out on something beautiful because someone couldn’t count on me to be “stable”. Things like this make me beleive that its time to stop changing so much although deep down inside I still feel like I can’t stop right now. I’m still so restless.