Aug 2015
i. you’re lying on your stomach, pressed skin-to-skin, and time has lost all its meaning. you feel as though your little twin mattress has turned into a life raft. as if your bedroom has no ceiling and you can trace the stars’ reflection in the water. you don’t think that the stars you’re seeing may already be used up and dead. that the tide you feel under your bed might be the beginning of a storm instead of the gentle guidance of the moon.
you roll over, hold him in your arms, shut your eyes and feel the rocking of your tiny boat against the tides of a world that made you believe you’d never find a life raft.
“Do you ever feel so happy you could die? That if your life ended right that second, you’d be fine, because you were alive to be that happy.” lips parted against warm skin to mask emotional intimacy. a lie of omission.
“Yeah.”
you have enough of a self-preservation instinct (and a desire to keep your life raft at all costs after having gone so long without one, truth be told) not to ask him if he’s happy enough to die right now
the simplest lie of omission.
ii. there’s more than that lol
I love you
No, you don’t
iii. a text I’ll never send:
you get a four month vacation in my heart. you get to use me as *** and a replacement for real human intimacy because you were always intent on leaving St. Louis. a convenient way of saying you were always intent on leaving me. you tricked me, duped me, trapped me, and you get an easy way out.
I would say you should have chosen someone more stable, but stability isn’t really what you’re looking for and you’re probably right, after all.
I have enough scars that at some point, I’m sure I won’t know which ones are yours.
iv. it gains more meaning the more you say it and the more you hear it.
“I love you.” three simple words that are a challenge and a call to arms against the rational mind. at first it felt like hitting a brick wall at 70 mph, but now it feels like getting in clean sheets after a warm shower.
you can say it when you’re choked up with an ****** or when you’re choked up with tears or with his hand around your neck and it doesn’t lose its meaning. it grows to the occasion, takes up space, fills silences that used to feel like chasms between you both.
he can say it when you’ve gone out of your way and when you’ve got tears welling up in your eyes for no reason again and when he’s falling asleep on you again and it doesn’t lose its meaning. It doesn’t feel heavy or like an apology.
or like a promise.
v. you’re worried you’ve caused a landslide in yourself by simple expectation.
“Is this okay?” with his hot breath in your ear and his body pressed tight to yours and his hand in your underwear. as if you could ever deny him.
as if it would get easier after repeated use.
as if it would hurt less every time he didn’t meet expectations you continually lower for him.
as if you didn’t open your legs every time his hands touched your bare knees.
but when he’s got you pinned to your own bed with your pants tucked barely under your *** after you’ve said, “No. I want to do this my way. For once, I am making a demand of you. For once, I am not lowering my expectations,” you know it’s kind of too late to slam on the brakes. there’s no reversing a landslide
it’s ugly and gross and demeaning, but only the tiniest part of you cares because the real crime happens back in April when you asked him, “Can we stay like this forever?”
he’s already taken your heart for his own like a conquering hero. the rest is just the spoils of war.
(love)
vi. if you could reverse a landslide, though, you probably wouldn’t.
vii. I’m now more sunshine
(it’s happening. it’s really happening. you and your heart don’t factor into my plans at all)
yikes
Florida is such a weird state, man
(do you have to throw it in my face? can’t you just pretend? lie)
only if you’re weird, man
(no)
negative. even the rain in Florida is weird. it’s like. sideways.
(I wish that it mattered to you that I’m hurting. I wish that I was enough for you. You’re enough for me.)
viii. it’s all kind of about what you believe.
every relationship has a time limit. aren’t you lucky to know when the clock is going to run out?
there was a time in your life, not too long ago, when you would not have accepted being loved. you didn’t accept being loved over and over again. you would give all your love and ask for nothing in return. “The greatest gift is just to love. And to be loved in return.” Okay, that sounds fake, but you’re not as sick and sad as you used to be.
this is not unique. bad things like this, basically paper cuts as people on the surface of your life, happen all the time. you just board up all the windows and doors against further intruders, put a band aid on the surface of your life, and start again.
it’s all a matter of perspective. glass half full glass half empty.
a flip of a coin.
you roll over, hold him in your arms, shut your eyes and feel the rocking of your tiny boat against the tides of a world that made you believe you’d never find a life raft.
“Do you ever feel so happy you could die? That if your life ended right that second, you’d be fine, because you were alive to be that happy.” lips parted against warm skin to mask emotional intimacy. a lie of omission.
“Yeah.”
you have enough of a self-preservation instinct (and a desire to keep your life raft at all costs after having gone so long without one, truth be told) not to ask him if he’s happy enough to die right now
the simplest lie of omission.
ii. there’s more than that lol
I love you
No, you don’t
iii. a text I’ll never send:
you get a four month vacation in my heart. you get to use me as *** and a replacement for real human intimacy because you were always intent on leaving St. Louis. a convenient way of saying you were always intent on leaving me. you tricked me, duped me, trapped me, and you get an easy way out.
I would say you should have chosen someone more stable, but stability isn’t really what you’re looking for and you’re probably right, after all.
I have enough scars that at some point, I’m sure I won’t know which ones are yours.
iv. it gains more meaning the more you say it and the more you hear it.
“I love you.” three simple words that are a challenge and a call to arms against the rational mind. at first it felt like hitting a brick wall at 70 mph, but now it feels like getting in clean sheets after a warm shower.
you can say it when you’re choked up with an ****** or when you’re choked up with tears or with his hand around your neck and it doesn’t lose its meaning. it grows to the occasion, takes up space, fills silences that used to feel like chasms between you both.
he can say it when you’ve gone out of your way and when you’ve got tears welling up in your eyes for no reason again and when he’s falling asleep on you again and it doesn’t lose its meaning. It doesn’t feel heavy or like an apology.
or like a promise.
v. you’re worried you’ve caused a landslide in yourself by simple expectation.
“Is this okay?” with his hot breath in your ear and his body pressed tight to yours and his hand in your underwear. as if you could ever deny him.
as if it would get easier after repeated use.
as if it would hurt less every time he didn’t meet expectations you continually lower for him.
as if you didn’t open your legs every time his hands touched your bare knees.
but when he’s got you pinned to your own bed with your pants tucked barely under your *** after you’ve said, “No. I want to do this my way. For once, I am making a demand of you. For once, I am not lowering my expectations,” you know it’s kind of too late to slam on the brakes. there’s no reversing a landslide
it’s ugly and gross and demeaning, but only the tiniest part of you cares because the real crime happens back in April when you asked him, “Can we stay like this forever?”
he’s already taken your heart for his own like a conquering hero. the rest is just the spoils of war.
(love)
vi. if you could reverse a landslide, though, you probably wouldn’t.
vii. I’m now more sunshine
(it’s happening. it’s really happening. you and your heart don’t factor into my plans at all)
yikes
Florida is such a weird state, man
(do you have to throw it in my face? can’t you just pretend? lie)
only if you’re weird, man
(no)
negative. even the rain in Florida is weird. it’s like. sideways.
(I wish that it mattered to you that I’m hurting. I wish that I was enough for you. You’re enough for me.)
viii. it’s all kind of about what you believe.
every relationship has a time limit. aren’t you lucky to know when the clock is going to run out?
there was a time in your life, not too long ago, when you would not have accepted being loved. you didn’t accept being loved over and over again. you would give all your love and ask for nothing in return. “The greatest gift is just to love. And to be loved in return.” Okay, that sounds fake, but you’re not as sick and sad as you used to be.
this is not unique. bad things like this, basically paper cuts as people on the surface of your life, happen all the time. you just board up all the windows and doors against further intruders, put a band aid on the surface of your life, and start again.
it’s all a matter of perspective. glass half full glass half empty.
a flip of a coin.
Written August 20, 2015
