When it’s too early to sleep but too late to cry
And everyone else but you seems to care when it’s appropriate to do either
The skin just above your lips tastes of salt
Your nostrils and skull under the same pressure
Clogged with mucus and doubt, both trying to escape
Can’t seem to get out
So it sits there building up until you draw in
swallowing
Mucus, doubt, confusion, all absorbed into your body, filling the empty spaces from the last time you cried
You drift off to sleep, and pray the sheets are not drenched with the leaking mess when you awake in the early afternoon.
I wonder if you know how much that song affected me
I know I called you and told you how timely it was, that text in the middle of talking to Tiana
Lauren? Lauren. So out-of-the-blue, it was like you knew.
Still, I wonder if you know just how much it assisted my decision...
How I walked for hours wandering Brooklyn listening to that song on repeat hoping for a sign
How my world stopped when I first heard it
How I kept it from anyone who might have needed it because I thought I needed its magic all to myself.
I thought that song would give me an answer. Maybe it did.
I might have known the answer from day one. Sometimes I feel like I did, and I just didn't know how to handle it.
All it really takes is one line and I’m in
In like
In lust
In love
"I’d rather you give up on life in the city then give up on life too."
The connection convinced me it’s mine because I understand
And no one else
But that city chews up and spits out more people than downloads of that song
I don’t know that for sure but I bet it’s true.
Still, when I heard that line and a few others before it, I felt it was God singing them to me
This could have been because I was looking for a sign. It could have fit so perfectly into my situation because I am not different at all in this aspect of my life; a lot of people go through this (and possibly even the band, resulting in the song itself)
I haven’t listened to it since I left
And right now, I’m thinking that’s a good thing.
Call it selfish, delusional, illogical,
Call it what you want but sometimes
Like I told Laureen in the St. George dorm
Sometimes, a lot of the time, I believe
The world revolves around me
Isn’t that normal though?
Everyone’s view of the world is through their eyes
So their life is, well, them.
Maybe it’s bad to think my life will be a movie or a book one day
Maybe everyone thinks that, or maybe not
Maybe I’m a narcissist.
No. I’m too fragile. I’m too caring. I’m too understanding.
Wow, I might as well have said, I’m just too great to be a narcissist.
Haha, got a laugh in, that’s good.
Alison wrote me a letter the night before she left
And gave it to me that morning, standing on the concrete sidewalk outside our building
100 Henry Street. Room 336
The hostility I had been feeling for months vanished, replaced with too many emotions to decipher but guilt leading strong
Her letter may not have been three pages long
It may not have been written with multi-colored sharpie markers
It may not have been as visually pleasing as mine
But it was perfect. And she was the only one who wrote me back.
I read it when I need to, which is probably too often.
One line.
"To be honest Haley, you are very ******* yourself and sometimes you simply cannot make a choice and I want you to remember to keep breathing."
One line.
And more than one tear.
Every single ******* time.
Maybe because it’s true.
The second I read it, I realized she was right
While all year I loved to prove her wrong
Alison, congratulations, you’re right.
But you’re also wrong (see you can’t win)
It’s not that easy to keep breathing when your
Nose is filled with mucus and your head is packed with confusion
And your nostrils are stuffed with the leaking confusing from your head
It’s not so easy to keep breathing, then again you didn’t say it would be
But it’s not so easy to keep breathing when you don’t even care if you stop.