I had a vague idea when I started today that I was going to be accruing stories to be telling the rest of the world for years. That I was going to become the cave painter, and leave my ideas behind the same way Hansel and Gretel left behind their breadcrumbs, for someone else to follow, for someone else to be curious about. Or maybe just for some bird to come by and eat, and then go home with a sever stomach ache wondering why pumpernickel always seems to do that to you…
This isn’t about abandonment or leaving me behind.
This is not about the five stars peeled down to three.
This isn’t even about the way you don’t look at me in the mornings anymore.
It’s about the moments when you look through me because I’ve gone so easy in your eyes, so soft, so preciously invisible that you can’t possibly find me to pin the blue ribbon to my chest; the I choose you gets frozen in your throat because you can’t see me, can’t rate me your best, and then I’m gone, like the rest of your breath, expelled from a chest with no heart left over for me.
this isn’t what i wanted to feel like
this isnt what i had in mind when i said yes
i wanted to have safety and caring
not this control
this exertion over me
this bit of me ripped out and kept caged
even though you say its for my own good
my own safety
even though you swear youre not trying to hurt me
that this is just another aspect of love
im beginning to squish into odd shapes
and im falling apart
and maybe this is the failing
the failure for faith in others
youre a melody i didnt want to have to sing twice
but i guess i can for the sake of the carbs
because i remember how well i liked you
before we were separated
this whole distance thing
just aint working out
so dear donut without the sugar
dear happiness sans cream cheese
dear little round shigamajig that used to make my days so pleasing
we’re breaking up
im going gluten free
I keep thinking that Kiera might not appreciate chocolate – because that was my first thought, that we’d get a bunch of Godiva and then sit together and chillax as we munched pizza and such. But there’s this whole gluten free thing, and apparently chocolate has wheat in it. So she’d get sick. And so instead I went to the second K in my life, (because you can always have too much chocolate and I’m approaching my limit) and used it as a bribe for Kiersten to keep her from being mad at me for too long.
I’m on the phone and I just want to talk with someone and this blasted music is just playing, and playing and suddenly there are lyrics and I can’t understand them. These songs… I can’t believe it. Still busy? How many people use Teavana’s service? How long am I going to have to hold? What IS this?
What’s funny is that it’s not funny.
What’s funnier is how easily ticked off I am.
Tickled, my dad might say.
I prefer pissed.
Sometimes I pretend to fall asleep, just to see if you’ll hold me when I twitch. It’s not because I don’t trust you, but the director who has been in charge of my life has messed with me often enough to make me wonder every once in a while just how much longer this will last. It’s like how you say I Love You whenever we talk, before we say goodbye. Because you want to hear it back, and need the affirmation. I just need your arms around me.
I want to find you and hold you, close, close, closer than I’ve held any story I ever told before because you’re not just a story anymore – you’re a legend, a little weaving of tiny tales of bits of words that maybe create something more and babe, I want to keep you close. Close, closer than anything has ever been to me, or my heart, I wanna be wrapped up in your stars even as you begin to realign and tell me the story of how we first met in some other time.
You’re the same woman who you used to be, all those years ago, and even that little girl, still, but all they see when they walk by is an old woman, now, one with hands that are as twisted as the roots of the tree outside your porch.
You are still the same woman who you used to be, all those years ago, and still when these boys walk by, they throw taunts and they throw jeers, and they mime speaking, but you have had more years of practice not listening than they have had in loving with all their withered little hearts.
When you were crossing half the known world to find me, did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want to be found? That maybe all this terrestrial space I’ve erected between us, this dirt and ice, these glaciers and these moments of silence that stretch on as far as the terrain that still carries the weight of moments between us – this might all be because I wanted to escape from you. That maybe, this is over, even maybe never began.
And then again, you’re here beside me, making me wish my also wasn’t such a limiting word. Making me wish that my also meant including you, not that I’m also going to be out of town, and I’m also going to be away for the next semester, and that also I don’t really much like your family, either.
I was hoping that maybe we’d have an also in common, something to bond us over shared time, but that’s also out of the picture because all your alsos have also included the fact that you’ve got another girl in your heart and I’m just the current one in mind’s eye.
I’m coming back, and you’re coming with me – we’ll have returned like the fire in the breath of a dragon, melting the landscape.
I’ve really just begun thinking about you again, and I’d apologize if you ever answered my emails to begin with. I’m thinking about reworking you into someone I could hate, because I never really was able to hate anyone in real life. So maybe if I fictionalize you just enough you’ll be the alter to that rule. My impetus for skipping bedtime.
I was so tired at the end of the 200 fly, but see, that’s not the thing that’s frustrating. It’s knowing that the 400 freelay was probably beaten because even when I was about to pass out, couldn’t feel my hands, couldn’t feel my face or hear anything, when I could barely see, stand or move, I told Jess that I was strong enough to compete. That I was going to be the rock for my team to lean on, and that it’s okay – I’m going to take this home, just watch me. I was in the race, until I was out of it. And by then, who remembers it anyway.
We aren’t made to recall what’s been past –
just for reference, we’ve been here before, and there, and back there too.
The bus driver, just pounding past while the outside rains down, down, down.
You’d think that maybe we’d stop, ask directions, see where we are going, but no.
We’re careening out of control, heading for somewhere else, someplace that we haven’t been yet, and that we won’t be able to fully appreciate until we’re too far gone in time, and the reference point comes up once again.
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