I wish.
I wish I could turn back time. To a time when we were the happiest, February 2010. When you felt I was your matching sock and you were my missing twin.
I wish I could turn back time. To a time when we were the happiest, February 2010. When you felt I was your matching sock and you were my missing twin.
The scars we have made to one another go deep, the pain is severe, but they were put there because we chose to quiet and give up. We gave up on one another instead of fighting, believing in ourselves and one another.
Because we are apart it’s harder to live then it was us living together. We have forgotten so many good times we shared, in our times together. That we allowed ourselves to harbor the pain and hold on to the negative feelings and memories over the past year.
We are two bright people. Logical should of rang true on our birth certificates. I know that we love one another. I am still fighting for you. I don’t know how I manage to find the strength because from this side it’s been the hardest battle in my life. I have never had to fight so hard for something I believe in.
Remember when I spoke to you about the scars you carried from previous relationships, how trust was a word I would never utter. That then I knew it left a bitter taste on your tongue, with a deep thrust from a sharp thorn that pierces your chest. If healing your heart was doable. I did it. I kissed every scar and I can do it again. I know that my words fall to deaf ears, but I pray one day the reach your heart instead. It’s hard for me to say anything new that you haven’t heard before from others that were spoken.
You said it yourself that we are acting out because we are new to the ways of this situation. That you and I are acting out of character. It’s so true.
I have continued over the last 4 weeks, digging holes and barring the new hurdles I have been faced to over come. I have forgiven, every time they arise because i know it is out of character. My love for you is so strong, that I will continue to take the beatings that I receive with your tongue. It weakens me, but then I get back up and reach out once more.
I remember a time sitting on my bed with you watching me, caught up in parachutes, but not wanting to land. And somehow now its like a cartoon drawn with rough edges, scribbled outside the lines, but a picture I will never forget to hang.
It’s ironic with every passing day I never grow tired, that no matter the time or context there is always you to compliment or complete me by bringing out the best in who I was. That whenever that person looks at you, in their eyes, you know that is all they see, illuminating your life.
When you looked at me, all of the fluorescent bulbs would morph into love lights, awakening my heart. Now I don’t see how I could be capable, at 36, of all those feelings that I was so afraid to unlock, but I did, I did with you. I guess you assured me, that no matter how out of control this got we would go down together and you would never let me fall alone.
From our past experience with one another, I never knew love could be so strong that it could hurt, or that by giving love, I would wind up empty. But no matter how many times I convince myself no more weakness, I find myself succumbing to your every craze.
Do you remember how aloof I was with my daily requests of still frame images or my consent subtle stares when I was near you. I can’t elucidate it. It was a sensation I accepted that made me smile with every attachment or glimpse I would steal. We called them our Easter Eggs.
Still today, you have no thought how you make me feel, so I continue to write endless words of descriptions, in hopes that one day you will hold on tight.
Until then my pursuit for you will continue. With mental kisses, warm hugs, and gentle touches through text or emails. You will finally comprehend the price of picking up the pieces and starting over.
I still believe the ending will be rewarding if not stronger and great.
“I had terrible day”, we say it all the time.
Fight with the boss, stomach flu, and traffic.
Thats what we describe as terrible when nothing terrible is happening.
These are the things we beg for, a root canal, and IRS audit, and coffee spilt on our clothes.
When the really terrible things happen, we start begging to god we dont believe it, to bring back the little horrors and take away this.
It seems quaint now doesn’t it. The flood in the kitchen, the posion oak, the fight that leaves us shaking with rage.
Would it have helped if we could see what else was coming?
Would we have known those would have been the best moments of our lives?
He chose her, not you.
December 15th is slowly approaching. One year, that marks the turning point of my life.
2011 will be a year etched in my mind of the ups and downs of a relationship that I thought would not fall.
The baton had it’s fare shares of tossing from one hand to another. Every time it was passed it grew heavier and heavier. Anchored with mistrust, pain, and infidelity.
The decision making weighed on the referee who decided when the game was over.
Eventually, both teams lost.
After all what’s another promise broken.
After all what’s another scar to add to the collection
We all learn to stop counting the failures sometime
You’ve got to give up that you can’t stand without
Just when I started getting back on my feet
I think I’ve fallen down this damned burrow…
Oddly enough. Tonight it finally hit me. Change and transition.
The weird thing about it is, I’m searching within myself those feelings that I had been holding on too. I can’t seem to find them. The memories are reels of tape that have been stored away with all the others from my past.
The thing is, the chase is over. This weary girl is untying her laces and taking off her running shoes.
She’s unlacing her boxing gloves from her bruised knuckles and soaking her hands in ice water.
Another chapter has been written, now onto the next.
How do I know?
He’s been reaching out, but I haven’t been interested to respond.
The Loneliest Whale in the World.
In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:
She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.
Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean.
^
I have never felt so scared in my life. Almost a week ago, due too my consistent asking and suspicion. I decided to research “our” past phone bill statements, I found the other girls number.
My heart stopped beating. I couldn’t find my next breath. Beads of perspiration broke out all over my body, as I continued to cross-refrence every date, time and text message he sent her and I.
The one thing I feared the most became a reality. I didn’t know what to do with this information. I researched the area code and cross-refrenced it with his facebook friends list. I found the other girl.
I studied her profile picture. As I studied her, I wondered what she had done to make him turn his head. Her picture looked professionally taken. Her smile was wide, her teeth perfectly alined. Her hair a sandy brown bob style cut. Her pigmentation was flawless. She has no style of her own. A normal looking suburban women.
I wanted to make sure that the other girl matched the number that flowed endlessly down the 50 pages. I had eventually got someone to call her number.
While I was waiting I decided to take a shower that night. My head was spinning with all this information. Repeatedly, my mind echoed, “he lied, he lied, he lied”. As the hot water rolled down the boney curves of my lifeless body, I started to cry. I could no longer feel my legs, standing was a task to maintain. The water turned cold, like the existence of my relationship. Finding the strength to change into my pajamas, not wanting to look at my phone for the dreaded answer I wasn’t looking for. My hunch was right and the information had been proven positive.
He was sitting at my drafting table in the front room of our one bedroom loft. I’m sure I looked pathetic when I walked out of the bathroom. Over the duration of 2 months I had lost 20 pounds. None of my clothes fit me any longer. My drawstring pjs couldn’t be tightened as they hung off my protruding pelvis bones. An area he admired, but no longer notices. Even I no longer recognize the body I occupy.
I walked towards him as he sat looking at his computer screen. He looked intrigued, admiring something that had his attention. He didn’t even notice I was walking towards him. A few steps closer he reacts. Quickly closing out of windows that I’m sure was a sure sign of her. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say as I stood there looking at a man that once greeted me with, “hey hun or babe” when I approached him. This time it was, “whats up? You need something?”. I took a seat on the arm of the couch and said, “nah”. It looked like he wanted to get back to what he was doing prior, but I was keeping him from it. The dead air lingered what seem to be a life time. I got up and turned towards the bedroom we both had shared many a nights. Now his side lays vacant and cold. He questioned my behavior, but responding with nothing that could be questioned.
I laid in our bed, breathing heavy, mind spinning and my anxiety started rushing in. I couldn’t control the breathing. I couldn’t catch the air with my lungs. I wanted to question him about it, but I knew he would ask where this was coming from. He would over react anytime I brought up my suspicions. Accusing me of infidelity instead.
I got up from the bed again, as I walked towards him. He wasn’t as patient with me this time. I had stopped his thought process with work. A well known problem I’m told I do most frequently he says. I explained I wasn’t feeling well. Thinking it was due to a couple of things I had taken, but in my mind it was the bottle of poison I had drank. The label read, the other girl. She found my weakness as if she knew where to strike. My heart slowed down to a five second beat. The pain was slow and severe. He was annoyed with me. Asking me, “what do you want me to do?”. Before he would have been my hero. He would have rescued me from my pain with the warm love he had stored for those moments. This time, he none to offer. He had no remedy.
I walked away, sadden. I couldn’t maintain my balance as he was fallowing me to my room. He was more concerned that I didn’t fall as his negative voice echoed in my head of what I did and shouldn’t have done. I laid on the bed, while he stood there looking at me as if I had leprosy. He didn’t want to be close as I tried to catch my breath. Again, he asked, “what do you want me to do?”. I said, “sit down” as I tapped the bed with my cold skeletal hand. I wanted to tell him of my new discovery, but I couldn’t find it in me to go round and round with another fight that happens more then I like. Eventually, I waved him away. He couldn’t save me now. I felt he didn’t want too.
My evening ticked away as I laid tossing and turning in his lonely queen size bed we once shared. My eyes dried and blistered from the crying as I managed to fall asleep, dreaming of the other girl being me.
The room is vacant. All the heavy pieces of mismatched furniture that sat unmoved for years — now they reside in homes of strangers. Very slowly I emptied you out.
I can stretch my arms out and spin around seven, eight, nine times, without hitting a wall or a lamp. I don’t have to fumble through…
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