I’ve not written in quite some little while. It seemed as if all the desire had been flushed from me as leaves down a storm drain after a torrential downpour. Not that life got suddenly better or that any dream had come true, but simply to be devoid of any expressive bent whatsoever. A broken relationship restored and joyfully so. Still the same uncertainty over the primary relationship in my life as if I picked petals from a flower, “she loves me, she loves me not”. I’ve found new friends this past 6 months or so, along with a handful that I brought along from before. It is freeing to be able to say, “I love you” to someone and not have to worry that they think you are attempting to initiate a romantic liason. It is uplifting to have those who are interested in how *I* am doing. It feels good to have intimate platonic relationships.
Maybe I did have the KISA complex that I was accused of at a point in the past. I certainly am no knight in any sort of armor, least of which being shining. I love, indiscriminately, without regard to gender or age. This is who I am, what I do. There is no artifice or ulterior motive. It hurts me that important people in my life cant accept that for what it is, but attempt to make something ugly of it.
Then there is the fact that I am unashamedly Christian. It is not my calling to save anyone, nor to condemn them. My role is simply to love and to tell. And yes, I have more concern for your soul than I do for your body. I said on Twitter recently “I’d rather see your reading list”. That pretty much sums it up for me.
There is one consolation, I am content with me and my spirituality. I am confident that love will live on whether I do or not and I hope that is to be my legacy. He loved.