Monday, December 30, 2013
The space between
I woke up from strange dreams last night, laying on my back. My eyes slid from imaginary sunspots on the ceiling to you, laying on your side, curled tight into me. My brain was a fog rolling in from the Sandman's world. I felt heavy; lethargic, direly confused at being thrown from imaginary avalanches and flooded motor homes directly into your bed, melatonin weighing on my eyelids. Looked down to my chest and saw my hand laying across it. Tried to move it, brain straining. I felt as if my hand had moved but there it lay. I shifted slightly, and there was my hand, behind the one I'd been trying to move. Behind yours. I must be really out of it, I thought. But then, sometimes I can hardly tell where one of us stops and the other one starts, anyway. Sometimes there are no lines between us. If you share your hands, your soft skin, your smile (sometimes purely joyful, sometimes embarrassed, or shy, or a million other feelings), if you share your messy hair, and your grumpiness in the morning, and the right side of your bed (yours is the left), if you share playstation Player 2, and eggs only fried in olive oil, and grapefruit juice that isn't pasteurized, and shoes with the backs broken down, if you share lost socks and share the only two socks we have between us, if you share diner breakfasts and rocks by the river that are perfect for laying on, and the crash of the ocean, and the slight awkwardness of hotel rooms, and the sighs that come from the first touch after having waited too long, and if you share netflix marathons and pints of beer and silly mobile phone games and people being creepy at the gym and a million hugs and kisses and a million mornings waking up to your face and a million cups of coffee, and if you would only share all of those things, I would share with you my heart. But we both already did those things.
Friday, December 27, 2013
The Last Star in My Sky
Lines. She doesn’t remember where they came from, but there
they are, tracing her face like burros through the Grand Canyon, heavy-laden,
each bearing a burden. The mirror has become no-one she knows, but that is why
she opens the windows at night. She pads across the old oak floor to the
window, on weathered feet shod with the slippers she received this Christmas
from the Presbyterian church down the street. A chill breeze ghosts across her
rice-paper hands and they start to shake. She grips the windowsill and leans
out.
And then, suddenly, there it is above her: the last star in
the sky, strung from the place where the universe ends. Dangling there. What
was it, she asks it, that set the game in motion? Who tipped the first domino?
Who put out the first star, succeeded in a rolling motion by myriad dots
blinking out all across the sky? Who dipped the brush into the inky grey, LED
lights straining somewhere behind a galactic screen where electrons careen
through wires of infinite space? Was it God? Was it you?
She imagines a face. Tries, but the lines kept falling out
of touch. Somewhere where atoms don’t stop fingers from moving any closer,
anymore. The hair, it should be like this. Just this shade, and it should fall
this way, and it was never quite right and that is why it was perfect. She
can’t rightly imagine it now, because there are no more constellations to paint
the pictures. No more plasma. No more stardust. No more ghosts.
She strains to remain in fellowship with the window, once a
parking lot, once a garden, once a rolling plain, once elements whirling
through a massive, explosive tide. She looks up at the last star that will ever
hang in the sky, and with arms larger than worlds, she reaches up, and plucks
it.
Friday, December 20, 2013
The Furry Ball
Once, I caught you masquerading at a party as a man. The lions walked by, shaking their manes. Tigers crossed your path, tails swishing. Then the dogs, the wolves and coyotes. The bears. The birds, one by one, and the creatures of the sea. You said, all your friends go to parties dressed up as animals. You said, how strange.
But on the dance floor, you were the one out of place.
One time, I caught you masquerading at a party as a man. The get-up was very good, I'll hand you that. With mask secured firmly in place, the seams were nearly imperceptible. Again, I will say: it was quite good, and yet you left a long string hanging from the end of your coattails. Just dangling there. And all I had to do was pinch it between my thumb and forefinger as you walked away.
As it turns out, we're not really so very different, you and I. We all hide an animal inside, somewhere.
The secret is, it's nothing to be ashamed of.
But on the dance floor, you were the one out of place.
One time, I caught you masquerading at a party as a man. The get-up was very good, I'll hand you that. With mask secured firmly in place, the seams were nearly imperceptible. Again, I will say: it was quite good, and yet you left a long string hanging from the end of your coattails. Just dangling there. And all I had to do was pinch it between my thumb and forefinger as you walked away.
As it turns out, we're not really so very different, you and I. We all hide an animal inside, somewhere.
The secret is, it's nothing to be ashamed of.
God's busy gardening
I could shake off that sinking in my chest. I could just shake off the black sunspots on my brain.
I could just close my eyes, and kiss you like you meant it.
I wish you meant it.
I could just close my eyes, and kiss you like you meant it.
I wish you meant it.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Because of you
You don't think I really love you.
You said, you thought I was just looking for love.
Like if it hadn't been you, it would have just been the next person I met.
Somebody.
Anybody.
I said, I wasn't looking for love. I wasn't trying to find that.
But maybe that's not true.
I guess I kind of was looking for it. Not that I can just fall in love with anybody.
Not that it doesn't matter who.
Not that I was hell bent.
But sure, I wanted that in my life. I still do.
And I suppose it's possible that that is part of the reason I fell so fast.
But it couldn't have just been anyone.
It didn't just happen because "I was looking for love."
I know that for sure. I'm certain of that.
Because sometimes when you're looking for something, you convince yourself you found it.
And that it's real.
But you have made me find things I forgot to look for, because it's been so long.
And you've made me find things I didn't know to look for at all.
And you can't fake that.
I forgot what it was like.
I forgot to look for that feeling where you're completely at peace.
Where you completely belong.
Because I forgot about that feeling.
But with you, I felt it.
And I remembered.
I forgot to look for that feeling where you cherish the feeling
of lightly brushing your fingers across a tee shirt
feeling that it's soft, and solid.
Thinking, I love that shoulder.
Thinking you'd go to the ends of the earth for that shoulder.
Being overwhelmed.
I forgot about that feeling.
But with you, I felt it.
And I remembered.
I forgot to look for that feeling of looking into a pair of eyes
that strike you like a bullet through your brain.
Of a smile, inches from yours, that makes your chest feel so tight inside
as if you forgot how to breathe
even though that's silly.
I forgot about that feeling.
But with you, I felt it.
And I remembered.
I didn't know to look for those things. They just happened.
You can't fake that.
You can't look for something that you can't remember to look for in the first place.
But slowly, piece by piece, you're reminding me.
As I sit here keying these words my heart hurts.
My insides twist a fraction.
Maybe you don't want to know.
Maybe it would make you feel uncomfortable.
But even so, I don't really care.
I just wish you knew.
It could've been anyone.
But it was you.
And now, I remember. And now, I don't ever want to forget.
I love you with all of this.
I wish you knew. I wish you believed.
You're in my heart, now.
I don't ever want to lose you.
I just wish you could believe that maybe all of this started because of me.
But now it's because of you.
You said, you thought I was just looking for love.
Like if it hadn't been you, it would have just been the next person I met.
Somebody.
Anybody.
I said, I wasn't looking for love. I wasn't trying to find that.
But maybe that's not true.
I guess I kind of was looking for it. Not that I can just fall in love with anybody.
Not that it doesn't matter who.
Not that I was hell bent.
But sure, I wanted that in my life. I still do.
And I suppose it's possible that that is part of the reason I fell so fast.
But it couldn't have just been anyone.
It didn't just happen because "I was looking for love."
I know that for sure. I'm certain of that.
Because sometimes when you're looking for something, you convince yourself you found it.
And that it's real.
But you have made me find things I forgot to look for, because it's been so long.
And you've made me find things I didn't know to look for at all.
And you can't fake that.
I forgot what it was like.
I forgot to look for that feeling where you're completely at peace.
Where you completely belong.
Because I forgot about that feeling.
But with you, I felt it.
And I remembered.
I forgot to look for that feeling where you cherish the feeling
of lightly brushing your fingers across a tee shirt
feeling that it's soft, and solid.
Thinking, I love that shoulder.
Thinking you'd go to the ends of the earth for that shoulder.
Being overwhelmed.
I forgot about that feeling.
But with you, I felt it.
And I remembered.
I forgot to look for that feeling of looking into a pair of eyes
that strike you like a bullet through your brain.
Of a smile, inches from yours, that makes your chest feel so tight inside
as if you forgot how to breathe
even though that's silly.
I forgot about that feeling.
But with you, I felt it.
And I remembered.
I didn't know to look for those things. They just happened.
You can't fake that.
You can't look for something that you can't remember to look for in the first place.
But slowly, piece by piece, you're reminding me.
As I sit here keying these words my heart hurts.
My insides twist a fraction.
Maybe you don't want to know.
Maybe it would make you feel uncomfortable.
But even so, I don't really care.
I just wish you knew.
It could've been anyone.
But it was you.
And now, I remember. And now, I don't ever want to forget.
I love you with all of this.
I wish you knew. I wish you believed.
You're in my heart, now.
I don't ever want to lose you.
I just wish you could believe that maybe all of this started because of me.
But now it's because of you.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Antiquity
Laying in bed behind you. Watching some documentary about suicide bombers on buses in Israel. Stupid. Wasteful. You're tearing up a little bit and trying to hide it because you always get embarrassed when you tear up from movies or television. Looking from the screen to your shoulder, right in front of me. Black cotton t-shirt, stretched over bone and muscle. Over you.
I would completely lose my mind if anything ever happened to that shoulder. I love that shoulder. I reach out slowly, touch the fabric as lightly as I can. Just to make sure you're still there, just to make sure you're still safe. You reach behind you, take my hand, pull it over you and into your chest so I'm hugging you tight. Fingers twine together, tighten for a moment.
I would completely lose my mind if anything ever happened to you.
And now the feeling is old. There's no questioning left to do. Have I waited long enough. Is the moment right. Is this what we need, what we want, what's good for us. There's none of those things here, not anymore, not for me. I love you in an old way. I would rip apart the fabric of this world to keep you safe. I would be your Atlas and promise never to shrug.
I would completely lose my mind if anything ever happened to that shoulder. I love that shoulder. I reach out slowly, touch the fabric as lightly as I can. Just to make sure you're still there, just to make sure you're still safe. You reach behind you, take my hand, pull it over you and into your chest so I'm hugging you tight. Fingers twine together, tighten for a moment.
I would completely lose my mind if anything ever happened to you.
And now the feeling is old. There's no questioning left to do. Have I waited long enough. Is the moment right. Is this what we need, what we want, what's good for us. There's none of those things here, not anymore, not for me. I love you in an old way. I would rip apart the fabric of this world to keep you safe. I would be your Atlas and promise never to shrug.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Toujours l'amour
I know you'll always love her. I'm sitting at your desk, where you told me I could go sit and do my homework, looking down at a picture of her on the table. You probably forgot it was there. She's beautiful. It's okay that you still love her. I mean, not that I have the right to tell you if it's okay or not, but just so you know it doesn't bother me. Sometimes there's just that person that hits you like a freight train. Sometimes when they go away, they never really go away.
She's beautiful. She looks so distant. You've told me quite a bit about the two of you, how it was, and how it ended. I know you loved her probably more than you've ever loved anything in your life. It sounds like she could be pretty cold, and pretty far away. And the thing is... I'm nothing like that. If that's what you want, you'll probably never love me back the way that I love you. I don't want somebody to be totally crazy about me, running around after me, doing everything for me, just to look down my nose (metaphorically) and perhaps throw them the occasional bone, or pat them on the head. I don't need that. I don't need to keep my distance to make you always want more. The thing is... I know that works. Some people do it on purpose, and some people, that's just the way they are. I think she was probably the latter of the two.
With you, I don't know... you've told me quite a bit about your past. It seems like you were always pretty shy, and it seems like maybe you weren't praised enough for the things that you do. Like maybe you weren't given enough credit. Like maybe you weren't appreciated enough, or at least shown that you were appreciated enough. And I think about that quite a bit. I don't want to reinforce those ideas you have about yourself. And maybe the way I treat you is less attractive, less mysterious, less deliciously painful, and those are the sort of things that draw you in. I know that. I know all of that. And I could do all of that to get you to feel that way about me. I could analyze you and manipulate you to get you to feel that way back. See... my gift is understanding people. What their fears are. What their insecurities are, what they struggle with. What makes them happy. What makes them afraid. What makes them fall in love. That's my gift. I know those things about people. I know things I shouldn't know about people. But I am never going to do that. I am never going to use what I know about you to make you love me.
All that doing that would do would trap you in another codependent relationship where you thought that you were happy while really just chasing, running yourself ragged, for one kind word, one bit of approval, one nice gesture. Waiting with bated breath for the next one to come, whenever that would be. I don't want to make and then keep you dependent on me. I want you to be happy. So maybe, when you do something well, or you do something sweet for me, or anything like that, and I smile without reserve, and I praise you, and I thank you again and again, and I tell you that you did really well or I tell you that that was very sweet, and that I appreciate it... maybe that won't get you to love me. Because you want someone that holds back, that's mysterious, that you just don't understand. Maybe because you never understood why you weren't appreciated as a kid, and that's the kind of relationship with someone you can understand. But you know what? If that's true, I don't care if you never love me the way I love you. I don't care. I know you care about me, and that's good enough. All I want is to try, in every way I can, to reinforce to you the idea that you are good enough, and you are an incredibly special, kind-hearted person, and that you are smart, and talented, and that every kind thing you do for me, every time you tuck my feet in at night so I won't get cold, or bring me coffee in bed, or smile at me the way you do sometimes, or pick me up when I get stranded, every time you do that, it warms my heart right up. It makes me so happy. And I appreciate every kind thing that you do. I notice and I appreciate it. I think you are a wonderful human being. Yeah, you fuck up. So does everyone. But I truly think you are a wonderful person, and I am proud of you, and I appreciate you. Fuck games. You can never, ever, ever love me, and I will be so happy with that if you start to believe even a little bit how good you are.
She's beautiful. She looks so distant. You've told me quite a bit about the two of you, how it was, and how it ended. I know you loved her probably more than you've ever loved anything in your life. It sounds like she could be pretty cold, and pretty far away. And the thing is... I'm nothing like that. If that's what you want, you'll probably never love me back the way that I love you. I don't want somebody to be totally crazy about me, running around after me, doing everything for me, just to look down my nose (metaphorically) and perhaps throw them the occasional bone, or pat them on the head. I don't need that. I don't need to keep my distance to make you always want more. The thing is... I know that works. Some people do it on purpose, and some people, that's just the way they are. I think she was probably the latter of the two.
With you, I don't know... you've told me quite a bit about your past. It seems like you were always pretty shy, and it seems like maybe you weren't praised enough for the things that you do. Like maybe you weren't given enough credit. Like maybe you weren't appreciated enough, or at least shown that you were appreciated enough. And I think about that quite a bit. I don't want to reinforce those ideas you have about yourself. And maybe the way I treat you is less attractive, less mysterious, less deliciously painful, and those are the sort of things that draw you in. I know that. I know all of that. And I could do all of that to get you to feel that way about me. I could analyze you and manipulate you to get you to feel that way back. See... my gift is understanding people. What their fears are. What their insecurities are, what they struggle with. What makes them happy. What makes them afraid. What makes them fall in love. That's my gift. I know those things about people. I know things I shouldn't know about people. But I am never going to do that. I am never going to use what I know about you to make you love me.
All that doing that would do would trap you in another codependent relationship where you thought that you were happy while really just chasing, running yourself ragged, for one kind word, one bit of approval, one nice gesture. Waiting with bated breath for the next one to come, whenever that would be. I don't want to make and then keep you dependent on me. I want you to be happy. So maybe, when you do something well, or you do something sweet for me, or anything like that, and I smile without reserve, and I praise you, and I thank you again and again, and I tell you that you did really well or I tell you that that was very sweet, and that I appreciate it... maybe that won't get you to love me. Because you want someone that holds back, that's mysterious, that you just don't understand. Maybe because you never understood why you weren't appreciated as a kid, and that's the kind of relationship with someone you can understand. But you know what? If that's true, I don't care if you never love me the way I love you. I don't care. I know you care about me, and that's good enough. All I want is to try, in every way I can, to reinforce to you the idea that you are good enough, and you are an incredibly special, kind-hearted person, and that you are smart, and talented, and that every kind thing you do for me, every time you tuck my feet in at night so I won't get cold, or bring me coffee in bed, or smile at me the way you do sometimes, or pick me up when I get stranded, every time you do that, it warms my heart right up. It makes me so happy. And I appreciate every kind thing that you do. I notice and I appreciate it. I think you are a wonderful human being. Yeah, you fuck up. So does everyone. But I truly think you are a wonderful person, and I am proud of you, and I appreciate you. Fuck games. You can never, ever, ever love me, and I will be so happy with that if you start to believe even a little bit how good you are.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Falling.
You know what? I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all. But I know that this makes me hurt inside and as much as I want to come up with another solution to dealing with this, a solution besides just not seeing you for a long time, I don't know what else to do. Because I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of loving you when you don't love me back. I'm tired of needing you when I can't keep you, when I can't have you. And as much as it's going to suck I know that time is the only thing that will heal that. I need to feel like I'm at least working towards something; like I'm at least making progress instead of continuing to fall harder and harder for you.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
How It Ends (And the shredding cardiac sound that accompanied those keystrokes)
I am literally breaking down right now and the only one I want to see is you.
I want to go to my best friend and just crumple and cry my heart out because I'm never going to see the man I love again.
But I can't do that. Because they're the same person.
I can't tell you how hurt I am. I can't tell you how I feel. I got used to talking about how I feel with you. And now, there's nowhere to put the words. I just need to talk to you so badly and I can't anymore. You disappeared so suddenly. It's like you never even existed. It's like you never cared at all. Not even a little.
You promised me. You stupid fucking fucker, you PROMISED ME. AND I FUCKING BELIEVED YOU. I FUCKING BELIEVED EVERY WORD. I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE PEOPLE AND I BELIEVED EVERY GODDAMN WORD YOU SAID TO ME. I don't know why. I don't know why you were different like that. But you were. You said "the only way you're going to get rid of me is if you force me out of your life."
And I'm fucking breaking down right now. I need you so badly right now. I need my Ben. I need my friend. I fucking need you to be here for me right now. I never fucking ask you for anything. I do everything I can think of for you, and I never fucking ask you for anything. I need you to fucking be here for me right now. I'm breaking the fuck down. You promised. You fucking promised. You promised. But you're still gone.
I want to go to my best friend and just crumple and cry my heart out because I'm never going to see the man I love again.
But I can't do that. Because they're the same person.
I can't tell you how hurt I am. I can't tell you how I feel. I got used to talking about how I feel with you. And now, there's nowhere to put the words. I just need to talk to you so badly and I can't anymore. You disappeared so suddenly. It's like you never even existed. It's like you never cared at all. Not even a little.
You promised me. You stupid fucking fucker, you PROMISED ME. AND I FUCKING BELIEVED YOU. I FUCKING BELIEVED EVERY WORD. I DON'T FUCKING BELIEVE PEOPLE AND I BELIEVED EVERY GODDAMN WORD YOU SAID TO ME. I don't know why. I don't know why you were different like that. But you were. You said "the only way you're going to get rid of me is if you force me out of your life."
And I'm fucking breaking down right now. I need you so badly right now. I need my Ben. I need my friend. I fucking need you to be here for me right now. I never fucking ask you for anything. I do everything I can think of for you, and I never fucking ask you for anything. I need you to fucking be here for me right now. I'm breaking the fuck down. You promised. You fucking promised. You promised. But you're still gone.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Love, and love
You're so afraid.
You've been broken so badly, and you weren't set properly before you healed.
I can see that more clearly now than ever.
Maybe you'll never be able to trust.
Maybe I'm wasting my time.
Maybe I need to get over my Jesus complex.
Stop thinking I can save people.
Or even help. Even a little.
Maybe words mean nothing to you.
But you close your eyes to these actions.
So maybe I don't stand a chance.
You told me already. I should have believed you, too.
You might never be able to trust.
You might give in to your fears all the way, some day.
But let me tell you something, not so secret
That's no way to live a life
You don't want to be hurt anymore?
You don't want to be scared?
You don't want to worry?
Stop fighting. Stop picking off the scab.
Start loving yourself.
But you know what?
I don't believe that no-one can love you until you learn to love yourself.
I believe sometimes, in the middle of the darkest of nights,
It takes someone to smile at you
To tell you "I think you are great"
To tell you "I love you so much"
For you to start seeing yourself.
To start believing in yourself.
And so I will not be ashamed to say the words.
I love you.
I will never be ashamed.
You've been broken so badly, and you weren't set properly before you healed.
I can see that more clearly now than ever.
Maybe you'll never be able to trust.
Maybe I'm wasting my time.
Maybe I need to get over my Jesus complex.
Stop thinking I can save people.
Or even help. Even a little.
Maybe words mean nothing to you.
But you close your eyes to these actions.
So maybe I don't stand a chance.
You told me already. I should have believed you, too.
You might never be able to trust.
You might give in to your fears all the way, some day.
But let me tell you something, not so secret
That's no way to live a life
You don't want to be hurt anymore?
You don't want to be scared?
You don't want to worry?
Stop fighting. Stop picking off the scab.
Start loving yourself.
But you know what?
I don't believe that no-one can love you until you learn to love yourself.
I believe sometimes, in the middle of the darkest of nights,
It takes someone to smile at you
To tell you "I think you are great"
To tell you "I love you so much"
For you to start seeing yourself.
To start believing in yourself.
And so I will not be ashamed to say the words.
I love you.
I will never be ashamed.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
The thoughts we left behind
I can see the smile on your face as clearly as if there was a time when you'd looked at me that way.
I can hear the words in your voice as clearly as if there was a time you'd spoken them to me.
I can feel it.
And I wonder if I'm remembering something that hasn't happened, or if I'm trying violently to forget something that happened to another me, in a place a lot like this one.
I can hear the words in your voice as clearly as if there was a time you'd spoken them to me.
I can feel it.
And I wonder if I'm remembering something that hasn't happened, or if I'm trying violently to forget something that happened to another me, in a place a lot like this one.
Friday, October 4, 2013
That's what I mean
It's different how I love you. I told you that I did, but I didn't tell you how it felt this time. It's different. I don't feel that giddy, expectant, not-really-knowing-someone-but-still-willing-to-jump-in-front-of-a-bullet-for-them feeling. Not in the way that I'm used to. I kind of feel now that when you start feeling that way about someone you stop really getting to know them and start just kind of getting high on your feelings and rolling around not getting anywhere. I don't just sit around thinking of what can I do to make you happy, what little present can I get you that will make your life easier, what can I cook for you, what can I do. I always do stuff like that but I don't think you like it when I do. You don't like it when I do stuff for you. But I don't do stuff just because of some backwards, misplaced feelings of questionable origin. I don't know how to explain what it means to me when I say I love you. I'll try.
Two nights ago I was laying in bed behind you; you were asleep facing the wall, curled up. I couldn't sleep. I opened my eyes and looked at you. I looked at how your shoulders look big when you're laying down. I looked at your grey jacket covering your arms. Over your shoulder, that was moving up and down slightly as you breathed, I saw your untidy black hair sticking out in tufts in the back against your dresser. And I guess I can't really explain the feeling I felt. It wasn't giddy, or reckless, or flighty, or butterfly-y. It was just there. I thought: I want to know you. I want to breathe out when you breathe in. I want to be there for you. I want to tuck you in if you get cold. I saw the soft way your spine curved and I wanted to run my hand up it lightly, and then smooth the fabric back down. I thought: you matter to me. Not because of some all-encompassing, blinding feeling, but because you really do, honestly matter to me. I care about you greatly. I thought: I want you to believe in yourself. I thought: I believe in you. I thought: you're beautiful. I moved over closer and wrapped an arm around you, pulling myself into you. I buried my face into your back, into the back of your jacket. I breathed you in. I felt my body fill with feelings of peace, contentedness, happiness, the desire to protect, to care for, to cherish. I felt at peace. Not because I have some weird idea of the two of us capering through a field of daisies with hearts in our eyes. Not because I have you on some sort of pedestal. Because I see you when I look at you. I see all of it, this time. Not just the good parts. I see all of it. And all of it is what makes me feel this way. That's what I mean when I say I love you.
Two nights ago I was laying in bed behind you; you were asleep facing the wall, curled up. I couldn't sleep. I opened my eyes and looked at you. I looked at how your shoulders look big when you're laying down. I looked at your grey jacket covering your arms. Over your shoulder, that was moving up and down slightly as you breathed, I saw your untidy black hair sticking out in tufts in the back against your dresser. And I guess I can't really explain the feeling I felt. It wasn't giddy, or reckless, or flighty, or butterfly-y. It was just there. I thought: I want to know you. I want to breathe out when you breathe in. I want to be there for you. I want to tuck you in if you get cold. I saw the soft way your spine curved and I wanted to run my hand up it lightly, and then smooth the fabric back down. I thought: you matter to me. Not because of some all-encompassing, blinding feeling, but because you really do, honestly matter to me. I care about you greatly. I thought: I want you to believe in yourself. I thought: I believe in you. I thought: you're beautiful. I moved over closer and wrapped an arm around you, pulling myself into you. I buried my face into your back, into the back of your jacket. I breathed you in. I felt my body fill with feelings of peace, contentedness, happiness, the desire to protect, to care for, to cherish. I felt at peace. Not because I have some weird idea of the two of us capering through a field of daisies with hearts in our eyes. Not because I have you on some sort of pedestal. Because I see you when I look at you. I see all of it, this time. Not just the good parts. I see all of it. And all of it is what makes me feel this way. That's what I mean when I say I love you.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Picking up the pieces
What am I doing? Is this enough, or is it just better than nothing? Once again I find myself doing something stupid. Once again I find myself doing something that I know is causing pain, and will probably cause more, because I'm too afraid of what I'll lose in the present moment. I'm too paralyzed to prepare for the future. I am. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that I'm alone.
Sometimes I think to myself that I'm growing, I'm maturing, I'm gaining experience. Sometimes I think that I'm more in control of myself and my emotions than I used to be. And then other times, out of the thin blue sky when I least expect it, I feel my heart sink. I feel the weight of Atlas when I had thought I was in the clouds. It's almost as if I keep myself so busy that I don't realize that I'm sad. That I don't realize this is hurting me. And sometimes when my guard is down and I'm not paying attention, my heart throws it at me all at once in a desperate attempt to get me to listen.
Sometimes I think I haven't gotten better at controlling my feelings, I've just gotten better at fooling myself.
How do I feel about you still? I don't know sometimes. I try to act casual. I try to act natural. I try to just act like a friend. I try so hard that I believe myself sometimes. But then other times when I'm alone and I think of you the sadness hits me so hard that it's like a steel mallet to my chest. As always, I stuff that feeling away. I don't even think about what it means. I tell myself there's no reason for the feeling, and that I'm just weird or crazy or it must be around that time of the month. I don't allow those feelings any validation. But what if there is a reason for them? What if they're real? What if I'm not over it? Maybe it's just stewing inside of me, maybe it's fermenting, maybe it's growing, secretly, maybe it's rotting.
I don't know. I'm afraid to let it out, because I need it to go away. But I'm also afraid to keep stuffing it inside, because I might be doing damage that I don't even know about. I'm so good at pretending I'm okay, that everything's fine, that I'm doing fine, that sometimes I even believe myself. That's actually my whole game: pretending so hard that I believe it. That is my whole game. That's how I keep myself okay in bad situations. But the thing is.... I might be making myself pay for it down the road. It might be that every time I do that, I'm just taking some mess and throwing it in the closet, or sweeping it under the rug, and I can't see it anymore so I think that it's gone, but maybe it's actually collecting rot and maggots and rats and getting filthier and filthier in the closet and under the rug. Maybe it doesn't go away when I pretend I'm fine. Maybe it just gets uglier out of sight, and maybe it continues to hurt me more and more, and I don't even realize it.
Maybe not. I don't know.
I don't know how to talk to you about it. I just wanted so badly for things to go back to normal between us. And I feel like quite a bit of time has passed now since that night that I told you I loved you. And I feel like the more time can pass without me acting like I love you or mentioning it again, the more comfortable it will be for us to hang out. I know you don't want me to feel this way, and I don't know how to deal with it besides to talk to you about it but at the same time I feel like maybe you think I'm over it, or mostly over it, and I know you want to think that and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable so I kind of feel like if I can just keep up not mentioning it or acting like it then I won't lose you. And I know you said you're not going anywhere but to me going anywhere isn't a physical place, it's a state of mind. It's a place in your heart. You can be right next to me and be universes away. I know. I've felt it. And I don't want that.
But I'll never be able to be truly close to you if I can't talk to you.
I guess you don't want to be "truly close" anyway. You just want something casual until you find the person you want to spend your life with, or so you said. Not in exactly those words, but that's basically what it is and we both know it. I just don't understand. You get upset with me for not talking to you sometimes, or for being bad at communicating about how I feel. But the thing is... why do you want me to be good at communicating about how I feel? If I were to communicate all those things, I would be telling you about how I feel not just about myself and my life but about you. And you don't want to hear that. And if you do want to hear that, then how can you say you just want something casual until you meet somebody else? That doesn't add up. When I trust somebody enough to completely open up to them, it's because I'm invested in them. It's because I'm trying to build something with them, trying to work towards something with them. And why would you want to do all that with somebody that's basically a placeholder for your vague, blurry future wife? I feel like that would just be wasting my time.
Besides that, it's already hard enough for me to have a real conversation with someone. It's possible, but it's extremely rare. You've already told me you and I are not going to happen. If I were suddenly able to do that with you, it would create, at least for me, an undeniable connection between us that is so rare for me and so important to me. I couldn't stand to have that with you, to open myself up and let down all of those walls, knowing that there was no chance. Knowing where the finish line was. Do you understand that? I'm not saying I can't open up to someone unless I know we're going to get married and have a million babies and a dog; not at all. Not knowing is half the fun. What I'm saying is that when there is a clear end line, when there is a clear marker that says "this will not go any farther than this line here in the sand between us," I can't do that. I can't let down all the walls I've spent my whole life building, establish a connection with someone and a trust with someone that I've never really had before, make myself that vulnerable, and everything, knowing with 100% certainty that you were never going to choose me. That we would never make it past the "keeping each other company, friends, having someone to make you feel less lonely while you pass the time until the right person comes along" stage. You can't ask me to do that. Not when I feel this way about you. You cannot ask me to do that. Because the second I let those walls down and I let you in and I trusted you like that, which I've never really been able to do before but for some reason I feel like with you, I could, the second I did all of that... I would just think of you as mine. You would be mine and I would be yours in my head, and that would just be the way it was. I would just think of you as my person. My one person. That one person that people find sometimes that they don't ever let go. And then eventually some girl would come along as you'd fall in love with her and I don't think I would ever finish picking up the pieces of my heart.
Sometimes I think to myself that I'm growing, I'm maturing, I'm gaining experience. Sometimes I think that I'm more in control of myself and my emotions than I used to be. And then other times, out of the thin blue sky when I least expect it, I feel my heart sink. I feel the weight of Atlas when I had thought I was in the clouds. It's almost as if I keep myself so busy that I don't realize that I'm sad. That I don't realize this is hurting me. And sometimes when my guard is down and I'm not paying attention, my heart throws it at me all at once in a desperate attempt to get me to listen.
Sometimes I think I haven't gotten better at controlling my feelings, I've just gotten better at fooling myself.
How do I feel about you still? I don't know sometimes. I try to act casual. I try to act natural. I try to just act like a friend. I try so hard that I believe myself sometimes. But then other times when I'm alone and I think of you the sadness hits me so hard that it's like a steel mallet to my chest. As always, I stuff that feeling away. I don't even think about what it means. I tell myself there's no reason for the feeling, and that I'm just weird or crazy or it must be around that time of the month. I don't allow those feelings any validation. But what if there is a reason for them? What if they're real? What if I'm not over it? Maybe it's just stewing inside of me, maybe it's fermenting, maybe it's growing, secretly, maybe it's rotting.
I don't know. I'm afraid to let it out, because I need it to go away. But I'm also afraid to keep stuffing it inside, because I might be doing damage that I don't even know about. I'm so good at pretending I'm okay, that everything's fine, that I'm doing fine, that sometimes I even believe myself. That's actually my whole game: pretending so hard that I believe it. That is my whole game. That's how I keep myself okay in bad situations. But the thing is.... I might be making myself pay for it down the road. It might be that every time I do that, I'm just taking some mess and throwing it in the closet, or sweeping it under the rug, and I can't see it anymore so I think that it's gone, but maybe it's actually collecting rot and maggots and rats and getting filthier and filthier in the closet and under the rug. Maybe it doesn't go away when I pretend I'm fine. Maybe it just gets uglier out of sight, and maybe it continues to hurt me more and more, and I don't even realize it.
Maybe not. I don't know.
I don't know how to talk to you about it. I just wanted so badly for things to go back to normal between us. And I feel like quite a bit of time has passed now since that night that I told you I loved you. And I feel like the more time can pass without me acting like I love you or mentioning it again, the more comfortable it will be for us to hang out. I know you don't want me to feel this way, and I don't know how to deal with it besides to talk to you about it but at the same time I feel like maybe you think I'm over it, or mostly over it, and I know you want to think that and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable so I kind of feel like if I can just keep up not mentioning it or acting like it then I won't lose you. And I know you said you're not going anywhere but to me going anywhere isn't a physical place, it's a state of mind. It's a place in your heart. You can be right next to me and be universes away. I know. I've felt it. And I don't want that.
But I'll never be able to be truly close to you if I can't talk to you.
I guess you don't want to be "truly close" anyway. You just want something casual until you find the person you want to spend your life with, or so you said. Not in exactly those words, but that's basically what it is and we both know it. I just don't understand. You get upset with me for not talking to you sometimes, or for being bad at communicating about how I feel. But the thing is... why do you want me to be good at communicating about how I feel? If I were to communicate all those things, I would be telling you about how I feel not just about myself and my life but about you. And you don't want to hear that. And if you do want to hear that, then how can you say you just want something casual until you meet somebody else? That doesn't add up. When I trust somebody enough to completely open up to them, it's because I'm invested in them. It's because I'm trying to build something with them, trying to work towards something with them. And why would you want to do all that with somebody that's basically a placeholder for your vague, blurry future wife? I feel like that would just be wasting my time.
Besides that, it's already hard enough for me to have a real conversation with someone. It's possible, but it's extremely rare. You've already told me you and I are not going to happen. If I were suddenly able to do that with you, it would create, at least for me, an undeniable connection between us that is so rare for me and so important to me. I couldn't stand to have that with you, to open myself up and let down all of those walls, knowing that there was no chance. Knowing where the finish line was. Do you understand that? I'm not saying I can't open up to someone unless I know we're going to get married and have a million babies and a dog; not at all. Not knowing is half the fun. What I'm saying is that when there is a clear end line, when there is a clear marker that says "this will not go any farther than this line here in the sand between us," I can't do that. I can't let down all the walls I've spent my whole life building, establish a connection with someone and a trust with someone that I've never really had before, make myself that vulnerable, and everything, knowing with 100% certainty that you were never going to choose me. That we would never make it past the "keeping each other company, friends, having someone to make you feel less lonely while you pass the time until the right person comes along" stage. You can't ask me to do that. Not when I feel this way about you. You cannot ask me to do that. Because the second I let those walls down and I let you in and I trusted you like that, which I've never really been able to do before but for some reason I feel like with you, I could, the second I did all of that... I would just think of you as mine. You would be mine and I would be yours in my head, and that would just be the way it was. I would just think of you as my person. My one person. That one person that people find sometimes that they don't ever let go. And then eventually some girl would come along as you'd fall in love with her and I don't think I would ever finish picking up the pieces of my heart.
Monday, September 23, 2013
My life
I'm a little frustrated, I'll admit it. I'll ask you if we can talk about it soon, but right now you're asleep so all I can do is talk about it on here. I feel like you keep yourself as separate from the rest of my life as you possibly can. I'm not really sure if you do it to keep your distance from me, or if you just have social anxiety, or what it is, but it really feels like that.
I spend so much time with you, and we may not be technically dating but if you take away any and all labels on you and me, with the amount of time we spend together and the way we are together, that's basically what it is. And I feel like this huge chunk of my life right now is the time I spend with you, but it's completely and totally cut off from the rest of my life.
When I'm seeing someone (call it what you want), I like to be able to spend one on one time with them, but I like to be able to hang out with them with my friends or with their friends too. I don't like having them a completely isolated part of my existence. I want to know you. I want to know your friends. I want to be part of your life and not this like... shut off, locked away, secret that you keep from everyone that knows you. And that's really how it feels. Besides your roommates, I'm completely cut off from the rest of your life and the people in it.
And I want you to know me too. I want you to get to know my friends and spend time with us. I want you to be a part of my actual life, not just this separate existence that we've created between the two of us. I don't know why it's like that. I don't want it to be like that. But every time I invite you over to have dinner at my house with my friends, or every time I invite you to go out and get a drink with us, or anything, you always either turn me down flat, or you agree and then bail on me at the last second.
I really don't know why you do it. Are you just trying to keep yourself from getting too involved with me? News flash: you're involved. You are already involved just by the sheer amount of time you spend with me, and by how close you've already allowed us to get (I've allowed us to get close too, but if you're the one trying to stop us from getting too close you haven't done much of a job with the effort). I don't know what you're doing. Are you trying to keep our lives totally separate so it's easier to not see each other again if that happens? Are you just nervous and/or scared to meet people I love? I don't know why, but I can't do it like this. This doesn't work for me. I don't know what to do about it.
I'm sorry but you can't just have the best of both worlds, which is to have me around when it's convenient without having to actually get to know each other. I want to know you. I really want to know you and I really want you to know me. You say I don't communicate well and I put up walls but you don't make any effort and you put up walls too. I'm not the only one who has something they need to work on, but I also feel like I'm the only one of the two of us who cares about us, whatever -we- may be, to actually make an effort to work on those things. It's just really frustrating. I'm at such a loss. It fucking hurts.
I spend so much time with you, and we may not be technically dating but if you take away any and all labels on you and me, with the amount of time we spend together and the way we are together, that's basically what it is. And I feel like this huge chunk of my life right now is the time I spend with you, but it's completely and totally cut off from the rest of my life.
When I'm seeing someone (call it what you want), I like to be able to spend one on one time with them, but I like to be able to hang out with them with my friends or with their friends too. I don't like having them a completely isolated part of my existence. I want to know you. I want to know your friends. I want to be part of your life and not this like... shut off, locked away, secret that you keep from everyone that knows you. And that's really how it feels. Besides your roommates, I'm completely cut off from the rest of your life and the people in it.
And I want you to know me too. I want you to get to know my friends and spend time with us. I want you to be a part of my actual life, not just this separate existence that we've created between the two of us. I don't know why it's like that. I don't want it to be like that. But every time I invite you over to have dinner at my house with my friends, or every time I invite you to go out and get a drink with us, or anything, you always either turn me down flat, or you agree and then bail on me at the last second.
I really don't know why you do it. Are you just trying to keep yourself from getting too involved with me? News flash: you're involved. You are already involved just by the sheer amount of time you spend with me, and by how close you've already allowed us to get (I've allowed us to get close too, but if you're the one trying to stop us from getting too close you haven't done much of a job with the effort). I don't know what you're doing. Are you trying to keep our lives totally separate so it's easier to not see each other again if that happens? Are you just nervous and/or scared to meet people I love? I don't know why, but I can't do it like this. This doesn't work for me. I don't know what to do about it.
I'm sorry but you can't just have the best of both worlds, which is to have me around when it's convenient without having to actually get to know each other. I want to know you. I really want to know you and I really want you to know me. You say I don't communicate well and I put up walls but you don't make any effort and you put up walls too. I'm not the only one who has something they need to work on, but I also feel like I'm the only one of the two of us who cares about us, whatever -we- may be, to actually make an effort to work on those things. It's just really frustrating. I'm at such a loss. It fucking hurts.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
I want to kiss your eyelids
I woke from sleep in your bed, not long ago, and I opened my eyes and saw your face as you slept, right in front of me. Empty of all fears and worries, insecurities and defenses. And you looked like a star. Like you should be shining up in the sky you were so bright. It hurt to even look at you. I had to look away because you were so beautiful.
I really care about you, you know. Your well-being and happiness are so important to me. Your walls I love, and your grumpiness in the morning, and your eyes that sparkle when you're excited; the way you get excited about the smallest things that most people would never notice. Your small hands I love, and your weaknesses and your strength; a different kind of strength than I'm used to seeing, which has already taught me so much. Your smile, when you look down at me, when we lay together. Your warm skin, your solidity, that smile which is so rare and yet I see universes in your eyes when it's trained on me. I fall into your eyes when I see that smile and I feel as if there's no bottom; as if I could fall forever, into you. The feel of wrapping myself up in you, of being so closely entwined that I don't know where one of us stops, and the other begins.
I want to kiss your eyelids. I want to stroke your hair. I want to look in your eyes and whisper that I love you.
I really care about you, you know. Your well-being and happiness are so important to me. Your walls I love, and your grumpiness in the morning, and your eyes that sparkle when you're excited; the way you get excited about the smallest things that most people would never notice. Your small hands I love, and your weaknesses and your strength; a different kind of strength than I'm used to seeing, which has already taught me so much. Your smile, when you look down at me, when we lay together. Your warm skin, your solidity, that smile which is so rare and yet I see universes in your eyes when it's trained on me. I fall into your eyes when I see that smile and I feel as if there's no bottom; as if I could fall forever, into you. The feel of wrapping myself up in you, of being so closely entwined that I don't know where one of us stops, and the other begins.
I want to kiss your eyelids. I want to stroke your hair. I want to look in your eyes and whisper that I love you.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
On love
Another thing I want to say quickly is that I don't say any of this because I don't want to stress you out. I realize that my feelings are my own. Just because I love you doesn't mean you owe me anything. I really am not one of those people who thinks that it does. I'm the one that fell in love with you, it was me, it was my choice (or eventual somewhat-grudging acceptance, as the case may have partially been).
You can control who falls in love with you even less than you can control who you fall in love with. These are my feelings, not yours, and you owe me nothing because of them. You're clearly already really stressed out, no matter what the reason is, and me freaking out and ranting about all that stuff I just said and demanding or begging for answers or whatever is just going to stress you out more. That would be selfish. That would be saying I love you and then being willing to make you even more stressed out to ease my own stress, in the name of said love, which is a crock.
When I say I love you I mean I love you, not I love loving you, not I love the idea of somebody loving me back. I just mean I love you. So I can seem utterly unconcerned, totally at ease, what have you, everything's normal, and then walk out the door crying once you can't see or hear me and get through the day in a fog like someone wrang out my heart like a wash cloth and then shoved it back into my chest. But you would never know. Because I'm not going to put that on you. It was my decision, as much as you can call falling in love a decision. I'll just be waiting I guess, in case you ever decide to tell me what's the matter. You know you can trust me. I'm already a pretty goddamn trustworthy person, but the fact that I'm in love with you literally means I would battle a fucking army for you. I'm just like that when I'm in love with someone. I mean, that salmon dinner you ate tonight? That was my dinner for tonight. I ate partially-cooked ramen for dinner after a long ass miserable shift at work today so that you could have that dinner, when you already have my food card with 200 dollars on it, because I knew that food card or no food card you still wouldn't have anything to eat tonight because you just wouldn't have gone food shopping. That's how I'm like when I love you. So you can kind of trust me by default, because I'd do any stupid thing for you. Like going out at 1am and buying you cookies and odwalla juice because you felt like them. I'd do any stupid thing for you. I wouldn't ever fucking judge you. I'd fucking take down anybody who tried to make you feel bad, who judged you. I'd protect you from anything or anyone, most of all from myself. But you don't know that I guess.
You can control who falls in love with you even less than you can control who you fall in love with. These are my feelings, not yours, and you owe me nothing because of them. You're clearly already really stressed out, no matter what the reason is, and me freaking out and ranting about all that stuff I just said and demanding or begging for answers or whatever is just going to stress you out more. That would be selfish. That would be saying I love you and then being willing to make you even more stressed out to ease my own stress, in the name of said love, which is a crock.
When I say I love you I mean I love you, not I love loving you, not I love the idea of somebody loving me back. I just mean I love you. So I can seem utterly unconcerned, totally at ease, what have you, everything's normal, and then walk out the door crying once you can't see or hear me and get through the day in a fog like someone wrang out my heart like a wash cloth and then shoved it back into my chest. But you would never know. Because I'm not going to put that on you. It was my decision, as much as you can call falling in love a decision. I'll just be waiting I guess, in case you ever decide to tell me what's the matter. You know you can trust me. I'm already a pretty goddamn trustworthy person, but the fact that I'm in love with you literally means I would battle a fucking army for you. I'm just like that when I'm in love with someone. I mean, that salmon dinner you ate tonight? That was my dinner for tonight. I ate partially-cooked ramen for dinner after a long ass miserable shift at work today so that you could have that dinner, when you already have my food card with 200 dollars on it, because I knew that food card or no food card you still wouldn't have anything to eat tonight because you just wouldn't have gone food shopping. That's how I'm like when I love you. So you can kind of trust me by default, because I'd do any stupid thing for you. Like going out at 1am and buying you cookies and odwalla juice because you felt like them. I'd do any stupid thing for you. I wouldn't ever fucking judge you. I'd fucking take down anybody who tried to make you feel bad, who judged you. I'd protect you from anything or anyone, most of all from myself. But you don't know that I guess.
Fuckity Fuck
Here I am again, talking to my own shadow. Talking to my reflection in the mirror. Craving a cigarette, thinking about that beer I left in the fridge, thinking I'm exhausted. Thinking I won't wake up in your bed tomorrow morning. Thinking about the last two mornings when I did wake up in your bed and drove home angrily wiping tears off my face. Angry with myself for crying. Frustrated with you for not telling me anything. You always assume I just know things without you having to say them. Don't your remember what I must have told you a million times? I always get in trouble when I assume things. Whenever I try to guess why someone is doing something, I always guess wrong. So I have stopped even trying to guess. So no, unless you tell me, I won't know why you won't hold me anymore. I won't know why, when I try to wrap my arms around you before I fall asleep, you take me by the wrist and physically move my arm off of you without saying a word. You always turn away from me. I was with you all last night and you barely even touched me. You just rested your arm on me for a few minutes while we were watching TV in your bed. You didn't even kiss me. And it's not that I feel like I can't make the first move, it's that I'm tired of being the only one who acts even remotely interested. It's just been the last week that you've been acting like this, and it doesn't make any sense, because if you weren't interested why would you keep asking me to come over every single night? Why do you ask if I'll come over every damn night and then proceed to act like you want nothing to do with me?
I don't understand. I don't know what's going on. You've seemed really distracted and depressed but when I ask you what's up you say nothing, or you say it's about the bankruptcy thing, but I feel like there's more to it than that, because you've been planning on doing all of that for a long time, it's not like it's this new depressing thing. Maybe filling out the paperwork makes it seem more real, and makes you think about a lot of things that might feel depressing, but I just feel like that's not all that it's about, and you won't talk to me. You never talk to me. I don't know how much of it, if anything, is about me, but it sure as hell feels like it.
I mean last night I fell asleep and I didn't even try to cuddle you, I just went to sleep, because I was so scared you were going to move me off of you and turn away again. You don't understand. That hurts me so bad when you do that. It physically makes my heart hurt. I just lay there wanting to cry and feeling so rejected and not understanding why you ask me to come sleep in your bed if you're just going to push me away and then turn and sleep facing the wall. I read somewhere once that the worst way to feel alone is being right next to the person you love and knowing you can't reach them, or something to that effect, and that's really true. I'd rather be sleeping alone in my bed than be sleeping next to you in yours knowing you don't want me to reach out and touch you. I just want to wrap an arm around you and run my fingers through your hair and kiss the back of your neck and smile into your shoulder before I fall asleep, but this whole week you've asked me over and then pushed me away. I don't know why you're rejecting me like this and it hurts. It also kind of pisses me off because how many literal hundreds of guys have expressed interest in me since I met you, I am talking literally hundreds, and yet I pick the only one who apparently doesn't give a fuck.
But I get this weird feeling that you do give a fuck. I just don't know what the hell is going on.
I woke up this morning to you getting out of bed. You used to stay in bed and cuddle me and hold me and kiss me. Sometimes we'd stay in bed for hours after we woke up just kissing each other. I remember one time we laid in your bed and just kissed until 4pm, and then looked at each other and mutually expressed amazement over the fact that neither of us was bored (you said that first, and I agreed with you; you didn't seem like you believed me but I felt the same way). But this morning, you woke up and immediately got out of bed, didn't even hug me or give me a good morning kiss, and went and sat at your laptop and started fucking around. And I stayed in bed for a good half an hour just hoping you'd come back and hold me, but you didn't. And because you've pushed me away the last week I wasn't going to reach out to you; if you don't want to be close to me you don't want to be close to me, and trying to force it will only make you want me further from you than you already seem to. And then I just kind of realized I wasn't wanted and I got up and got dressed, and I stood there and looked at you for a second and then I just kind of said bye and left. And I've never just left without hugging you or kissing you or anything. I just dressed and walked out, and you just kind of called after me Are you leaving? And I said yeah, bye, and that was that. And then I fucking started crying as I was walking out the backdoor. Because where the fuck did this giant wall come from? Where the fuck did this giant fucking ocean come from that's suddenly between us? What's it about? What is on your mind. What is going on that has you acting so weird. I don't think it's a chick, it doesn't have that feel to it. It feels like something really heavy, something that's weighing on your soul, but I don't know what. And I'm torn because I feel so abandoned by you that I just want to do what I always do when I'm not wanted which is get the fuck out of there before I make a bigger ass of myself than I already have by putting myself out there and being rejected. But I also feel like, if this really ISN'T about me, the way you've been acting around me, then maybe I'm still one of your best friends, and if I am, I don't want to abandon you if something really fucked up is going on and you need me.
But I can't do anything if you won't talk to me, and I'm so lost.
I fucking love you. I do. I fucking love you. You met my best friend like 2 months after we started hanging out, I went to the bar with the two of you, and then I went into the bathroom drunk and took forever and you guys had a conversation while I was gone, and she would never tell me what you said because she said you asked her not to. But she did tell me she asked how you felt about me. And finally after I told her I loved you she was willing to tell me what you said. She said that you said that you knew I'd just gotten out of a long relationship so you didn't want to have feelings for me or try to jump into a relationship because you knew that's not what I needed or wanted, but that you were having to try really hard not to fall in love with me. That you were falling in love with me. And that was two months ago. So what the hell is going on? God dammit I am so confused, I am so lost, I don't know why you're doing this. I wanted to tell you I love you. I was going to tell you. But now I can't because you've been acting so weird and it doesn't feel safe. I don't know what to do. I fucking hurt. It fucking hurts me. What is going on. I feel like you're intentionally shutting me out of your life, out of your heart, out of your mind, and I don't know if it's because I did something wrong or because you don't like me anymore or if it's because you did something you're ashamed of or if it's because something just really fucked up is going on in your life that's totally fucked you up and you're too scared to tell me about it or you don't feel like you can talk to anybody about it not just me. Those are all possibilities. I just wish I knew because I know whatever this is is not about me, even if it's about me for you it's not about me for me. I know how I feel about you, I know I want to be around you, that's not the issue from this end. I know it's selfish to assume it's about me for you when it could be something completely different and I should be trying to support you, but I'm just so scared that you'd tell me you don't want me anymore. And I'm also scared to push the point, to push asking you what's wrong, because I'm afraid you'll push me even farther away if you feel like I'm trying to force my way in when you're not ready or wanting or able to tell me what's up.
I just don't know what to do. I'm kind of fucked up right now. I just wish you would hold me and tell me you loved me.
I don't understand. I don't know what's going on. You've seemed really distracted and depressed but when I ask you what's up you say nothing, or you say it's about the bankruptcy thing, but I feel like there's more to it than that, because you've been planning on doing all of that for a long time, it's not like it's this new depressing thing. Maybe filling out the paperwork makes it seem more real, and makes you think about a lot of things that might feel depressing, but I just feel like that's not all that it's about, and you won't talk to me. You never talk to me. I don't know how much of it, if anything, is about me, but it sure as hell feels like it.
I mean last night I fell asleep and I didn't even try to cuddle you, I just went to sleep, because I was so scared you were going to move me off of you and turn away again. You don't understand. That hurts me so bad when you do that. It physically makes my heart hurt. I just lay there wanting to cry and feeling so rejected and not understanding why you ask me to come sleep in your bed if you're just going to push me away and then turn and sleep facing the wall. I read somewhere once that the worst way to feel alone is being right next to the person you love and knowing you can't reach them, or something to that effect, and that's really true. I'd rather be sleeping alone in my bed than be sleeping next to you in yours knowing you don't want me to reach out and touch you. I just want to wrap an arm around you and run my fingers through your hair and kiss the back of your neck and smile into your shoulder before I fall asleep, but this whole week you've asked me over and then pushed me away. I don't know why you're rejecting me like this and it hurts. It also kind of pisses me off because how many literal hundreds of guys have expressed interest in me since I met you, I am talking literally hundreds, and yet I pick the only one who apparently doesn't give a fuck.
But I get this weird feeling that you do give a fuck. I just don't know what the hell is going on.
I woke up this morning to you getting out of bed. You used to stay in bed and cuddle me and hold me and kiss me. Sometimes we'd stay in bed for hours after we woke up just kissing each other. I remember one time we laid in your bed and just kissed until 4pm, and then looked at each other and mutually expressed amazement over the fact that neither of us was bored (you said that first, and I agreed with you; you didn't seem like you believed me but I felt the same way). But this morning, you woke up and immediately got out of bed, didn't even hug me or give me a good morning kiss, and went and sat at your laptop and started fucking around. And I stayed in bed for a good half an hour just hoping you'd come back and hold me, but you didn't. And because you've pushed me away the last week I wasn't going to reach out to you; if you don't want to be close to me you don't want to be close to me, and trying to force it will only make you want me further from you than you already seem to. And then I just kind of realized I wasn't wanted and I got up and got dressed, and I stood there and looked at you for a second and then I just kind of said bye and left. And I've never just left without hugging you or kissing you or anything. I just dressed and walked out, and you just kind of called after me Are you leaving? And I said yeah, bye, and that was that. And then I fucking started crying as I was walking out the backdoor. Because where the fuck did this giant wall come from? Where the fuck did this giant fucking ocean come from that's suddenly between us? What's it about? What is on your mind. What is going on that has you acting so weird. I don't think it's a chick, it doesn't have that feel to it. It feels like something really heavy, something that's weighing on your soul, but I don't know what. And I'm torn because I feel so abandoned by you that I just want to do what I always do when I'm not wanted which is get the fuck out of there before I make a bigger ass of myself than I already have by putting myself out there and being rejected. But I also feel like, if this really ISN'T about me, the way you've been acting around me, then maybe I'm still one of your best friends, and if I am, I don't want to abandon you if something really fucked up is going on and you need me.
But I can't do anything if you won't talk to me, and I'm so lost.
I fucking love you. I do. I fucking love you. You met my best friend like 2 months after we started hanging out, I went to the bar with the two of you, and then I went into the bathroom drunk and took forever and you guys had a conversation while I was gone, and she would never tell me what you said because she said you asked her not to. But she did tell me she asked how you felt about me. And finally after I told her I loved you she was willing to tell me what you said. She said that you said that you knew I'd just gotten out of a long relationship so you didn't want to have feelings for me or try to jump into a relationship because you knew that's not what I needed or wanted, but that you were having to try really hard not to fall in love with me. That you were falling in love with me. And that was two months ago. So what the hell is going on? God dammit I am so confused, I am so lost, I don't know why you're doing this. I wanted to tell you I love you. I was going to tell you. But now I can't because you've been acting so weird and it doesn't feel safe. I don't know what to do. I fucking hurt. It fucking hurts me. What is going on. I feel like you're intentionally shutting me out of your life, out of your heart, out of your mind, and I don't know if it's because I did something wrong or because you don't like me anymore or if it's because you did something you're ashamed of or if it's because something just really fucked up is going on in your life that's totally fucked you up and you're too scared to tell me about it or you don't feel like you can talk to anybody about it not just me. Those are all possibilities. I just wish I knew because I know whatever this is is not about me, even if it's about me for you it's not about me for me. I know how I feel about you, I know I want to be around you, that's not the issue from this end. I know it's selfish to assume it's about me for you when it could be something completely different and I should be trying to support you, but I'm just so scared that you'd tell me you don't want me anymore. And I'm also scared to push the point, to push asking you what's wrong, because I'm afraid you'll push me even farther away if you feel like I'm trying to force my way in when you're not ready or wanting or able to tell me what's up.
I just don't know what to do. I'm kind of fucked up right now. I just wish you would hold me and tell me you loved me.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Help Me
Dammit. I don't know what to do. I don't know how you feel. I don't know how well you hide it. I don't know who you are. Not really. Not enough to weave silence into words.
There's lots of ways to feel close with another person. To feel connected. I've experienced so many of them and I'm sure there's millions more that I haven't even thought of. But there are certain ways, there are certain moments, in which I feel closer to you than I've ever felt to anyone in my life. And I don't even know who you are, and I don't even feel as if I can tell you about them. I don't even know why that closeness exists; I don't know where it came from, or what it means. I don't know you. I know that you feel it, but I don't know if you feel it, the same way that I feel it. As much as I feel it.
There are silences after those moments, silences that used to be comfortable and now are almost painful, because those silences didn't used to need to be filled. And now, I want to fill the silence, I have a fierce need to fill it, fill it with something simple and right and perfect- and laying there in a silent bubble I feel alone and agonizingly helpless. I mouth those words while you lay there, feeling my heart twist inside me, feeling that feeling you get before your eyes start to burn. I mouth them while you lay there, right in front of your face, over and over, praying you'll open your eyes and see, hoping you won't. Can't you see, can't you see, can't you see. Can't you see the way I look at you. Can't you feel the feeling in the way I hold you, in the way I tuck you in in the middle of the night, pulling the covers over your feet, your legs, your stomach and your back and your shoulders. Smoothing them down again, rubbing them lightly back and forth over you to try to warm you up, because it got cold in the night and I don't ever want you to be too cold. Not when I can warm you up. Can't you feel the feeling in the way I kiss the back of your neck, and I don't know how much longer I can stop myself from screaming the words, screaming the feeling out of me, I love you.
I love you.
I want to fill those silences, because now I have something I need to fill them with. It's not enough to just hope you'll understand, because you never do. And I understand that because I never do either. I never infer. I never connect deed to feeling in my head, afraid I'll connect them wrong.
I feel crazy. I feel right and I feel wrong and I feel completely and hopelessly lost. I want to tell you. I need to tell you. Every one of those nights that passes, every one of those silences, wrecks me further. But I don't know what you'll say. I don't know if you'll reject me. I don't know if it will ruin everything. God, I love you. I love you. Please.
And I don't even know what I need.
Help me.
There's lots of ways to feel close with another person. To feel connected. I've experienced so many of them and I'm sure there's millions more that I haven't even thought of. But there are certain ways, there are certain moments, in which I feel closer to you than I've ever felt to anyone in my life. And I don't even know who you are, and I don't even feel as if I can tell you about them. I don't even know why that closeness exists; I don't know where it came from, or what it means. I don't know you. I know that you feel it, but I don't know if you feel it, the same way that I feel it. As much as I feel it.
There are silences after those moments, silences that used to be comfortable and now are almost painful, because those silences didn't used to need to be filled. And now, I want to fill the silence, I have a fierce need to fill it, fill it with something simple and right and perfect- and laying there in a silent bubble I feel alone and agonizingly helpless. I mouth those words while you lay there, feeling my heart twist inside me, feeling that feeling you get before your eyes start to burn. I mouth them while you lay there, right in front of your face, over and over, praying you'll open your eyes and see, hoping you won't. Can't you see, can't you see, can't you see. Can't you see the way I look at you. Can't you feel the feeling in the way I hold you, in the way I tuck you in in the middle of the night, pulling the covers over your feet, your legs, your stomach and your back and your shoulders. Smoothing them down again, rubbing them lightly back and forth over you to try to warm you up, because it got cold in the night and I don't ever want you to be too cold. Not when I can warm you up. Can't you feel the feeling in the way I kiss the back of your neck, and I don't know how much longer I can stop myself from screaming the words, screaming the feeling out of me, I love you.
I love you.
I want to fill those silences, because now I have something I need to fill them with. It's not enough to just hope you'll understand, because you never do. And I understand that because I never do either. I never infer. I never connect deed to feeling in my head, afraid I'll connect them wrong.
I feel crazy. I feel right and I feel wrong and I feel completely and hopelessly lost. I want to tell you. I need to tell you. Every one of those nights that passes, every one of those silences, wrecks me further. But I don't know what you'll say. I don't know if you'll reject me. I don't know if it will ruin everything. God, I love you. I love you. Please.
And I don't even know what I need.
Help me.
Monday, August 19, 2013
I thought I was falling
I don't think I'm ready to be in love. I think I'm fighting it as hard as I can, and I'm avoiding it, and sometimes I'm even allowing you to believe that you're the only one who feels certain things, so that maybe you'll take a step back, so that I'll have to take a step back too. I'm trying so hard to protect myself because I know I'm not ready for that. I thought I was falling in love with you for the longest time. And now. I love you.
I love you.
You told me about something that hurt you when you were a kid. About having a parent that was too hard on you about the thing that you loved the most, and how it hurt you, even though you were great. You told me how there were soccer games where you'd walk off the field in tears because you messed up a pass and he'd thrown up his hands and walked away. That would be so hurtful to anyone, especially a small kid. And it's funny because that was actually the moment, last night, where I realized I am in love with you and I can't deny it to myself any longer.
Because when you said that, it did something to me. It hurt me so much thinking of you hurting, and feeling like you weren't good enough, kid you, now you, any you. I just wanted so fucking strongly to be able to go back in time to those games where you walked off the field crying and your dad was gone because he thought you hadn't played well enough, and I just wanted to pick little kid you up and wipe away your tears and hug you tight and tell you that I think you played wonderfully, and I think you're so talented and I think you're great, you're the best ever. That you're exactly perfect just as you are and that I'm so proud of you and always will be. And just hug you until you stop crying, hug you until you maybe even give me a little bit of a smile. Because I don't ever want you to hurt like that. I don't ever want you to think you're not good enough. Because I think you're exactly great just exactly the way that you are, and I am so proud of you just for being you because I think you're wonderful. And because I love you.
God. I love you, I love you, I love you.
It's so hard not to accidentally say it out loud sometimes. I've almost slipped a number of times already. It's so good to finally admit it to myself and stop fucking denying everything out of fear. God it feels good even to type the words. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
I love you.
You told me about something that hurt you when you were a kid. About having a parent that was too hard on you about the thing that you loved the most, and how it hurt you, even though you were great. You told me how there were soccer games where you'd walk off the field in tears because you messed up a pass and he'd thrown up his hands and walked away. That would be so hurtful to anyone, especially a small kid. And it's funny because that was actually the moment, last night, where I realized I am in love with you and I can't deny it to myself any longer.
Because when you said that, it did something to me. It hurt me so much thinking of you hurting, and feeling like you weren't good enough, kid you, now you, any you. I just wanted so fucking strongly to be able to go back in time to those games where you walked off the field crying and your dad was gone because he thought you hadn't played well enough, and I just wanted to pick little kid you up and wipe away your tears and hug you tight and tell you that I think you played wonderfully, and I think you're so talented and I think you're great, you're the best ever. That you're exactly perfect just as you are and that I'm so proud of you and always will be. And just hug you until you stop crying, hug you until you maybe even give me a little bit of a smile. Because I don't ever want you to hurt like that. I don't ever want you to think you're not good enough. Because I think you're exactly great just exactly the way that you are, and I am so proud of you just for being you because I think you're wonderful. And because I love you.
God. I love you, I love you, I love you.
It's so hard not to accidentally say it out loud sometimes. I've almost slipped a number of times already. It's so good to finally admit it to myself and stop fucking denying everything out of fear. God it feels good even to type the words. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
The Cup
Just a cup. That's all it is. You can pour things out and still, it keeps getting filled and filled again from an invisible source made of pixels; grains of sand and sunbeams. This is my head on a rainy morning when the pavement clinks like static on the radio.
Your hand is an invisible breath ghosting across the back of my neck, on those long nights when I awake and roll over; reach out for something solid, catching pillows stuffed with goose feathers, catching ink-stained sheets, catching silence, sometimes even catching the soft curve of your spine. Sometimes even catching the sounds you murmur in your sleep; catching like Johnny Bench during that spring training game back in sixty-eight. Catching like your fallacious, pseudo-contagious hypochondriacal self-diagnoses (you're always convinced that a small discoloration on the end of your pinkie finger could be the beginnings of something fatal).
Just a cup. Just a breath. Just a life. Breathe me in and pour me back out; combine our contents and create something new, something wonderful. Then add vodka. You told me I was going to regret this. You told me you wanted to be the only one who grabbed my butt. You told me I made your soul feel like forever.
And sometimes when we fall asleep, forehead to forehead and nose to nose, I forget to feel awkward. So when we breathe, you can share my lungs. And when we run out of breath, you can share whatever's left of this heart that you've started to stop.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Kicking myself in the balls.
The funny part is, I was going to write: "A month ago, I thought your snoring and your weirdly long eyebrow hairs were so cute. Now I just think they're annoying."
Then I got halfway through and started thinking about them and realized that was bullshit.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Go on. You know you're dying to.
So go on and break my heart. I've been counting down the minutes; I've sipped the sweetened seconds from a broken cup until their aftertaste returned bitterness. I've played that music in a low-lit room alone, again and again, waiting for you to listen to a song that's fallen on battered eardrums, harmonies shifting into minor keys. You're not paying the slightest bit of attention.
To me, this will be an epic tragedy, depicted wonderfully, heart-wrenchingly, by an orchestra, a choir and a troupe of starving actors and artists.
To you, it will be a washed out watercolor at your next garage sale, a steal for fifty cents behind that chest of drawers you kept saying you were going to get rid of because the handles were broken.
Don't worry, I won't say anything. I'm too proud to handle this healthily. I'll shift my silence onto your dislike of meaningful conversations. I'll guess it's because of your abusive childhood.
You'll blame it on my assumptions. We can all just accept it and live this way.
But we don't have to.
To me, this will be an epic tragedy, depicted wonderfully, heart-wrenchingly, by an orchestra, a choir and a troupe of starving actors and artists.
To you, it will be a washed out watercolor at your next garage sale, a steal for fifty cents behind that chest of drawers you kept saying you were going to get rid of because the handles were broken.
Don't worry, I won't say anything. I'm too proud to handle this healthily. I'll shift my silence onto your dislike of meaningful conversations. I'll guess it's because of your abusive childhood.
You'll blame it on my assumptions. We can all just accept it and live this way.
But we don't have to.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Flayed
What is it about falling apart that makes the words come so quickly?
What is it about laying alone that makes the air ring so loudly?
What is it about a certain song that makes your chest twist up inside?
Have you ever bunched up the pillows against your body and curled up to sleep, pretending it was that person and they were there beside you, because you couldn't sleep if you didn't? Did it make you feel so pathetic, so relieved that you hardly cared? Did you wake up in the morning and reach out to nothing but cotton and cloth? Did the emptiness yawn. Did you feel the earth scream inside you, so loud that you were shocked when your skin escaped unabraded. Did it feel like this?
What is it about laying alone that makes the air ring so loudly?
What is it about a certain song that makes your chest twist up inside?
Have you ever bunched up the pillows against your body and curled up to sleep, pretending it was that person and they were there beside you, because you couldn't sleep if you didn't? Did it make you feel so pathetic, so relieved that you hardly cared? Did you wake up in the morning and reach out to nothing but cotton and cloth? Did the emptiness yawn. Did you feel the earth scream inside you, so loud that you were shocked when your skin escaped unabraded. Did it feel like this?
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