1112pm

[1112pm]

You taught me principle, sailed my ship to the meridian, handed me a compass embroidered with guidance and I stayed, anchored to your pain- your substance. 

You gave me courage but not enough to stand before yourself; you gave me wisdom but moreso that I arranged it to meet your standards and surpassed in my own ways only to realize neither of us were wise, at all. Neither of us were well.

And it isn’t until I went through the motions, alone, that I noticed the displacement and the whispers of ‘you-have-me’ through tears and endless conversations were unhealthy, misguiding, misled. I was misled.. and so were you.

And I can’t even be mad because you know me in the ways I know you- in the ways I can recite the reasons that don’t make you pretty or nice or beautiful or wise. And you, you can, too. In the end, it’s all we’ve given eachother- reasons and power. 

But I don’t want it; I’ve given it up, slouched my shoulders when I think of you. Because I realize that I loved you in ways that I couldn’t love anyone else and that was completely unconditionally and openly. From staying up for 4 hours on Valentines day after work at a restaurant-end job, soaking in your tears as if they were my own to biting my tongue from telling you how much it hurt to have to wait for you to finish talking about yourself for 3 hours before finally hearing the, “so what about you?”.. I realized I never ever held a single grudge, made a judgement that changed my position and that position was to stay as you always said your “thank-you"s and "you-are-the-only-one-who-has-ever-stayed"s. 

But when I turn the page, when it’s my turn, when I’m the one to blow up your phone and text desperate measures of 'help me please’s.. you aren’t there; so here’s a dessert wine toast to being left; to straight-up ignored with poor excuses of 'sorry, I’ve been working’ and 'sorry, I’m taking an online test’. It never occurred to you that I slipped you in-between my own time, my efforts in attempt to stop your oceans of emotions, your constant cycles of brokenness.. being there for you gave to me: selflessness

and loving you taught me how to give.

[1112pm]

“Sometimes you tell someone to never call you again and then the phone rings and you hope it’s them. It’s the most twisted logic of all time.”

— John Mayer

[1112pm]

““I believe if distance breaks you up, something else would have.””

— My history teacher who married his long distance/high school sweet heart

[1112pm]

When you run out of hope, you make it with your own hands.

I sat with exasperated breaths listening to the dial tone of your phone, hoping your voice would secrete itself through the static as I cried. And I sat, outside of your small and beige home, I’ve sat here thousands of times before– the light from the television screen flickering through the window let me know that your dad was still awake and downstairs.

I wanted familiarity, I wanted substance, I wanted to reach out and have him understand me, to have him know me in ways that I always hid behind my small “hello"s and empty "no, thank you"s. I wanted him to know that I loved him and your mother, your uncle and your aunt, your grandmother’s constant affection, your grandpa who’s hard of hearing but always manages to smile, your darling baby cousin who turned out to be the loveliest girl I know– I wanted him to know that if I were to disappear, that it wouldn’t be being without you for me; it would be being without them. And I wanted to have him know me, raw and incomplete, ugly and without you by my side, because I wanted him to know me real.

I sought to have him understand that beyond all of the holes you’ve punctured, you were someone I cared for against all odds and misconceptions of teenage love. I wanted him to figure me out, to be held under a microscope and squint at my squeaky joints and broken pieces. And then I wanted him to believe in me, to believe that I could make you whole. 

Last night, I stood on your welcome mat and knocked with tired wrists. Your father answered the door and quickly said, "Oh hey baby, he’s not here–” I know.. I was wondering if I could talk to you. 

Last night, after nearly two years of quiet exchanges of grins and polite movements, I reached out to your kin. I wasn’t looking for anything out of it, I actually don’t know what I was looking for at all. I think I was looking for a little bit of you in the areas that have been gray. I stepped into your doorway, without you, hoping to have your father tell me something, anything, to ease my sad sad heart and weary soul. “Baby, I don’t really know him anymore, I just know how I raised him.” I nodded in advance. “But.. I know that whatever it is.. don’t let it happen.” Let what happen? “Pain.” And it was like he already knew that I wanted to explain the amount of hurt we’ve both bestowed on each other. “I don’t know how you and him work and I’m not telling you to give up, I’m not telling you to leave.. you know, his mother and I used to fight all the time.” And I let out a smile and the most sincere smirk because your father almost winked at the end of the sentence and his gestures allowed me to understand when the words don’t seem to fit. “I’m growing old,” he half chuckled, “..you’ll come to a point someday when you won’t think half as much and you won’t worry yourself away. And when you get to my age, you’ll understand.” I wanted to tell him that I think I could understand if I tried hard enough. I’m an old soul, I wanted to joke but we had been joking periodically throughout the night and the old grandfather clock sung 10pm.

Last night, I tried to find a a little bit of you– the pieces I never understood, that I always ran away from. But instead, I found a little bit of me.

[1112pm]

You've been broken, but you've also broken

You called me on the drive home tonight. It had just began to rain and I figured, later on, that your favorite weather compelled you to dial my number that you know by heart. I had forgotten I never saved yours in my list of contacts and I was falling asleep on the constant merging of freeway lanes anyway. You asked me what I had to drink and you half laughed and said "you always drink jack and coke". And you went on talking about how life has been when I didn’t ask. And then you asked if I wanted to watch the the meteor shower tonight, with you, still, that you had brought up months before. You probably already knew the answer. I allowed your attempts at conversation for the rest of the drive and answered your questions with yes’s and no's until you finally blurted that you called to hear my voice and I said "I know.“ You knew that I had stopped reading your emails and that calling more than ten times in a row didn’t mean that I would pick up the phone. I meant it all those times when I said I couldn’t love you but felt a stimulate force, perhaps by God or nature, to stay and help you find your passions, yourself and your freedom. You never tried, though. And I gave up. I know that nobody likes to be left, or to be given up on. But I nearly lost myself in the process of trying to help you find yourself. You needed my validation, my approval. You had something to prove, you said, and you weren’t done proving it. But you are, to me, done. You went on to defend, to protest yourself against my little to no responses. And all I could say was I’m sorry before I hung up.

[1112pm]

“I buy all your favorite foods so I will be ready when you come home because once I did this and you said “This is how I know you love me.” I go on long walks alone and think about a poem my friend wrote that goes ”This is how you die by distance.” I hum the sound of the dial tone under my breath. I stare at my hands and wonder at their uses. I consider pawning my thighs. I consider auctioning off my hip bones. I put my breasts in a box on the top shelf of the closet. I do not need them now. I think of all the things I have to tell you when I will see you. Stories like:I just found out pumpkins are technically fruits andCary Grant’s first job was in a traveling circus andMost mammals are born able to walk and learn to run within minutes, so we are not crazy for moving so fast. This morning I wrote your name in the steam on my mirror, even though I knew it would fade within minutes In my best notebook I wrote “I miss you” ten thousand times. I wrote “I think I am missing one of my ribs” I wrote “I envy the way leaves know exactly when to fall from the branches and when to come back in the spring” I wrote “Everyone else isn’t you. It turns out that’s a huge problem for me.””

—

[1112pm]

happy "everyone forgets that icarus also flew" monday. i want to throw up !

[1112pm]

People cause pain. Even good people hurt those they love. We all do it because we can’t help it. Most of us aren’t evil; we’re just stupid and flawed and not careful with others.

Victoria Helen Stone, Jane Doe

[1112pm]

“I watch him in the kitchen, and I think of how much it hurts to love somebody. How deep the hurt is, how almost unbearable. It’s not the love that hurts; it’s the possibility of anything happening to the object of your love.”

— Augusten Burroughs, Magical Thinking

[1112pm]

Dead Ringers (1988)

[1112pm]

“Sure, I’m sad, but I’m not looking to soothe that sadness by replacing it with a new relationship. Women are allowed to be sad, and they’re allowed to be single, and they don’t need to hear that one day a man is going to make it all go away by telling her she is good enough again. She’s good enough as she is.”

— Charlotte Green

[1112pm]

[1112pm]

[1112pm]

Alex Dimitrov, from "Love“

[1112pm]

[1112pm]

It’s weird to grow up in a family where you know you’re loved but you don’t feel loved. And then later in adulthood you understand how almost impossible it seems to cross that distance and let yourself experience closeness, how otherworldly love feels now and how love feels unbearable at times. You flinch when someone tries to wholeheartedly love you. And over and over you see so clearly how you cannot be loved unless it's from afar and love is mixed with that familiar sensation of distance and coldness.

[1112pm]

born to love forced to grieve