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On Recklessness and Chaos

Journal Entry...

 Santo Domingo Airport

 I'm sitting here in the airport attempting to drown out the cacophony that lives only in the souls and bursts forth through the mouths of Latinos. I love the boisterous sounds of the laughter and stories, but I have papers to grade, and listening to the Spanish while reading in English is too much for my exhausted brain to handle right now. So I am ignoring what I am compelled to explore.

 What I realize here in this moment is that I am addicted to the chaos. Anyone with a psychology degree would say it's pathological, and in a way that is true. For this reason I am drawn to the chaos that my dear love brings to my life.

 He's not perfect. He's irresponsible and reckless, and one day I may berate myself for this. But I also love him in a way that I cannot explain. I love the drama that he brings--the kind that I cannot seem to deliver for myself. He gives my life something that is pathological only to those who live in the shadow of shame.

 Like the cacophony that I am trying to suppress in this moment, he brings a sense of life to me. That chaos of life is made up of intertwined lives and memories. Of blood and sweat and semen. Of laughter and tears and broken hearts and broken dishes. It's the complete opposite of the peace and tranquility that we use to sublimate our darker yearnings.

 This desire for that chaos is what fuels my need to travel and explore. He is my way to get that fix. He's my world traveling. And that's why I do it. He's the part of my life that I am forced to suppress every day through my masquerade as a professional with bills to pay.

 And I love him.

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