Here I am again. It's the end of the day. That's when the desperation starts clawing at the inside of my chest. When the realization that you are out there, having fun, moving on, leaving me sinks in. It feels like when you are dreaming, and suddenly you start to fall. You know, it's that lurch in your stomach and the terrifying sensation of speed. Like G forces threatening to rip you open. I am biting back the tears until I can clock out and get the fuck out of this place. At this point of the day it feels like a living nightmare. I have hours to go until I can find sleep and so many things to do it's not going to come easy. I am biting back the tears with every second. I know they are coming, I just need to wait until it's ok for me to release them.
But still, I am alright I suppose. I'm getting really desperate for a doctor. I've called and written so many I'm tired of looking up more names, it just makes me frustrated. Why can't I get better? I just want to get fucking better and I can't even do that right? It's like the universe is pointing a big finger at me and saying "GET BACK IN THAT HOLE YOU CRAWLED OUT OF." But I can only shake my fist and scream at the sky in response. I WILL NOT GO BACK TO THAT PLACE. I WANT TO GET BETTER. So even though the desperation sometimes closes in all around me and I want to give up and go to an unsafe place, I remember what you have taught me about being resilient and buoyant and free. And then I feel better, I feel a little more grounded and calm and like I can do this. Keep just putting one foot in front of the other and soon I'll be much further down the path of growth than I was before.
Anyway...How are you? I miss you so much still. I think about you fondly all the time. I wonder if you are really as happy as you seem, or if it's just an act. Truth: I want you to be happy. I want you to be so happy you can't stand it. If that means I have to be out of your life for good, I accept that. I'd rather have you perversely happy than miserable just because of me and my presence. Still god...I am hoping you speak to me again SOMETIME. I am hoping at least you will agree to see me somewhere in the future. You will won't you? My mother thinks it would be entirely unlike you to turn your back on me, walk out of my life, never speak to me again, never acknowledge that although I can have terribly bad behavior sometimes I am NOT a terrible person. I tend to agree with her.
I think you just need space. I'm giving you it. It seems like I'm not, I'm sure, but I am. I took all the pictures of you and me together, and of you from my face book and put them in the Love is A Verb album. They are under a content lock so that only you and I can see it. It will remain that way until something changes. I also hid your feed. It's NOT that I don't want to know how you are or what you are doing. I do. I just don't want to keep playing out this co-dependent bullshit where it drives me crazy trying to get your attention for the sake of self soothing and self validation. I also do not want to keep invading your space. I want you to have it. Come what may, I will love you, but I want you to have the option to be free as you want and not even have to blink at me until you care to.
I had another friend tell me today that you're not going to come back to me. They wanted to tell me about how "anything worth working out was worth working out together" and all that mess. I couldn't listen. It just made me sick, I couldn't listen. I told them to stop, and they did...but still...I'll admit it's been on my mind. And then, when I told them I was just really looking forward to being able to use this time to change and grow, to find a therapist and get into this hard self work so that I could be happier and healthier they tried to tell me therapy doesn't work. Can you believe that?? They told me some bullshit about how I have to accept the limitations of myself. That some things were just CENTRAL to who I was now and that was how I lash out and act mean. They called it my true nature.
I stood my ground in defiant outspoken defense of the good therapy does, the way that people can change, and how behavior is separate from the person itself. You should have seen me, you might have been PROUD. I have another appointment later this week with a therapist. I am hoping this one sticks and I can get better with them as my teammate on the road to lasting health. Yes, I still get sad. I still get fucking pissed off at myself for everything I did wrong. But I'm starting to feel better in the morning. I'm starting to see that silver lining. I'm starting to know I'm not a BAD person at my core. I am a GOOD fucking person, I just have a lot of work to do on the BAD behaviors that got ingrained in my repertoire along the way.
I really hope you'll let me show you someday how I've changed. If for no other reason than I want you to know how much your influence has had an effect on me. Ugh...All that talk about not being co-dependent with you and I did it again after all didn't I? And I wanted you to be different. I really wanted you to be different, because to me you are so so special. I guess this is the lesson time affords us. I guess this is my 20-20 honing in and giving me hindsight that will help propel me into the future. All I know is, you're in my heart. You're a part of my soul. And I'm going to go do the hard work and remember you like a shining comet that circles my moon. I love you and I want you to be happy. But I also love me and I want to know happiness and solace in my soul. I want to stop torturing myself and move onto a place of healing so that I can be the best for everyone around me. I want to just evolve and expand into the next dimension of my consciousness so that I can be a better woman, partner, artist, daughter, sister, co worker, friend, activist, human being, witch, spirit.
It's that time of day again, but already I'm starting to feel like I'll be alright. Just talking to you, just letting you know how I feel has some merit even if you aren't listening. Even if you never come back, I'll know at least I said these things out loud and made my good intentions REAL by the hard work and effort I am pouring forth at this moment. People keep telling me they think you'd be offended if you knew I was writing this on the internet for "everyone to see." I don't think you would be. I don't think you would be ever. And, I don't care about how it could "embarrass" myself. When I look at it now, I probably will look back on all this and say that it was arduous but so WORTH IT. This journey to self acceptance and transformation is TOO important not to chronicle, not to take notes so that I can revisit it.
I want to tell you something: I'm sorry I leaned on you so much for happiness in our relationship. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry I made you feel isolated. I'm sorry I had so much social anxiety and depression that I bottled myself up, instead of sharing myself with everyone like I REALLY WANT TO. Thanks for showing me people can be wonderful. Thanks for showing me I need them in my life to make me truly happy and that I WANT them there. Thanks for so many lessons Sasha. I owe you so much. I hope, if nothing else you will let me see you face to face someday so that I can say "THANK YOU!" and "I LOVE YOU!" with all my heart.
Anyway....Be well my sweet, be happy and get out there and have fun. Don't cry, don't be sad, don't get down on yourself. And I suppose, don't miss me...just keep moving on. But if you do miss me someday and you want to know how I am doing, want to remember what my voice sounds like and the way the hair falls in my face...please just pick up the phone and and call me. Ask me to coffee, it could be that simple. We can take it all really really slowly like you wanted. I won't expect the invitation to mean I'm back in your good graces. Like I have said before, I know I have to earn back your trust. I'm prepared to do that as long as it takes.
Even if it takes forever.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Ten 02.22.10
I am crying again tonight. I have cried every night since you left me. It takes on a new emotion every night: sorrow, panic, grief, frustration, desperation. Tonight is a deep melancholy that wracks me to my soul. It has wrapped me up in every bit of you I have lost. My chest is heaving and hallowing itself out with every strangled breath why I sob wretched, rocking myself gently without your arms to hold me. Meanwhile, you go about your day seemingly unimpressed by my ghost, hovering around the circle of light you sport like a halo. I try to stay away, really I do, I try to just disappear and not reach out to you. You have to forgive me, there's just all these reminders. There's just all these painfully obvious reminders that you and I share so much. That you have meant so much to me. That you have changed me in so many wonderful ways. Irony, that's what this is now.
After the tailoring was all done, I guess it's fitting that you didn't need me anymore. It makes sense for this miserable tailor to be left on my own, admiring the gleam of my sheers in the dark, whispering how I wish you would come back to me someday and let me love you once more. Ah, the ultimate irony is, I did nothing for you that I set out to do. I couldn't be ephemeral in your life like I wanted, and neither could you. I couldn't be reserved, because you drew my frightened hermit shell crab of a heart out slowly, earning its trust. I couldn't be cold and calloused and ruin you the way others have ruined me. I couldn't even tailor you like I said I would, you did that all on your own, I had NOTHING to do with that. I could only give you my love, my flawed imperfect immature love.
It's a love I'm now left with, to harbor alone, while you move with grace and splendor into a new chapter of your life. It's a leaden kind of feeling that is filling my veins, a sinking feeling like liquid mercury sliding down upright glass. I am sinking with it, further into myself, further into my despair. I wish I could stop. I wish I could pluck out my eyes and tear out my heart and send them to you and be done with it. Because truly, that is where those pieces of me long to be always, with you, away from me and my pain, my loneliness without you. I'm starting to understand the motivation behind Van Gogh sending his ear in the mail. You can have my fingers too while we're at it, and my teeth and my tongue. You could take my tender quivering pieces that only wish for you to touch them. You can have custody of my mind as well, since it is forever thinking of you at every moment. You can just take all the pieces of me until there is nothing left to give. And, I can be like your giving tree, always here, always giving, even when it seems like I have nothing I will muster it for you.
But you do not want me any longer. I have to keep moving, I know that, I'm doing it. But it's so hard not to return to an orbit that my constellation found its home in. I can't help it. We circle each other in the night's sky. Your scales dipping and swaying away from my outstretched claws, my neutered stinger. Yes, I said neutered. For surely there are only stings left for myself within them. No more left for you my sweet-ling. I could never cause you any more pain than I have. I keep moving, I keep calling these doctors, but like you, none of them will have me. There is no room at the Inn for me tonight, and it's with a heavy heavy heart I am turned away from each doorstep. I keep shuffling on, I keep running to the next door, pounding until I get a response. But no one has surfaced yet that will welcome me in. I know this will take time. Just like you and I, it will take time to get better. But I am just so weak when it's the night time. When it's all quiet and there's nothing and no one to distract me, my heart shatters into a thousand pieces all over again.
This is the distinct feeling of my heart breaking, then healing, then breaking again. It is like the slow mend of my tailbone that had to go through the same process to heal. Like that bone, the only bone I have ever broken, when it fuses I am sure my heart will be at a slant. I am sure that it will be tilted just a little further to the left, to the side that favors your dominant hand. So that if you should ever return, and feel like grasping it once more to know it's yours, it will be leaning into your palm's embrace with everything in it. I keep thinking, you will contact me soon. But now I am afraid it will not be for the reasons I had hoped for: not to ask me if I can come to therapy with you to talk about things we are both afraid to touch, not to go to a movie with me, not to just go out to coffee and talk. I keep thinking it will be soon, very soon, that you will contact me just to say "leave me alone." I keep thinking, we may never speak again. The mere thought rips through me like a flaming bullet made of broken glass and nerve gas.
Do you want me to stop writing you these letters?
Do you want me to leave you alone forever?
Do you want me out of your life for good?
The tears keep falling, and Led Zeppelin is doing its best to be cathartic. You should know, I am in love with everything you do just like I always was. My face is growing tight with the saline soaking it. My eyes are growing hot like embers in my skull from all the inflammation. I am sure I look like a wreck to those who see me. All but you. You who do not cast your benevolent glance my way. And why should you? Why would you ever again? When I have been so careless and cold with your love...It makes sense. I am not welcome. I know that. I wish to god I was, I really wish I was.
The pain and pressure in my chest shift and my heart slumps further to the left. It is reaching out to you, sending you love and devotion regardless of whether you want it. It is sending you feelings of healing and care so that you do not suffer needlessly, so that you heal quickly and move to happiness again very very soon. Meanwhile I am still looking for my health, I am picking up the pieces and finding the resources I know will help me put them back together in a way that will make me more healthy in the future. I am still doing my work, I am not completely going to pieces.
I'm not being self destructive or filled with self loathing. I am still resolved to change. I am still resolved to grow. And if I have to carry this broken leftward slanting heart in my ribs forever, pointing to that swallow which reminds me of you with its winsome smile, I'll do it gladly. At least I will have known, that I was able to love and change and be better. To make myself a new and keep the best parts of me. To winnow away the bad parts with work and my stubborn will, my passionate desire to do good. And maybe you will never know the benefits of those acts of evolution. Maybe you will always cast me away and never contact me again, never see me again, never love me again. But I will know I was better because of your love and because of the gift you gave me: sight.
I'm crying tonight, like I have done for every night since you left me. But the crying feels like a merciful release and I'm glad for the expenditure. At least I know, I can still feel. I can still bravely face myself and love myself, flaws and all. I can sit here in the dark with my tears and my heartache and I take these tailor's sheers to the canvas it was always meant to work on: my self. And, maybe someday...some fantastic day in the future, you will see me in your tailored goods, and I in mine and we will compliment each other so gloriously, we won't be able to help but fall in love all over again, and be truly healthy for each other, no longer afraid, no longer mistrusting.
After the tailoring was all done, I guess it's fitting that you didn't need me anymore. It makes sense for this miserable tailor to be left on my own, admiring the gleam of my sheers in the dark, whispering how I wish you would come back to me someday and let me love you once more. Ah, the ultimate irony is, I did nothing for you that I set out to do. I couldn't be ephemeral in your life like I wanted, and neither could you. I couldn't be reserved, because you drew my frightened hermit shell crab of a heart out slowly, earning its trust. I couldn't be cold and calloused and ruin you the way others have ruined me. I couldn't even tailor you like I said I would, you did that all on your own, I had NOTHING to do with that. I could only give you my love, my flawed imperfect immature love.
It's a love I'm now left with, to harbor alone, while you move with grace and splendor into a new chapter of your life. It's a leaden kind of feeling that is filling my veins, a sinking feeling like liquid mercury sliding down upright glass. I am sinking with it, further into myself, further into my despair. I wish I could stop. I wish I could pluck out my eyes and tear out my heart and send them to you and be done with it. Because truly, that is where those pieces of me long to be always, with you, away from me and my pain, my loneliness without you. I'm starting to understand the motivation behind Van Gogh sending his ear in the mail. You can have my fingers too while we're at it, and my teeth and my tongue. You could take my tender quivering pieces that only wish for you to touch them. You can have custody of my mind as well, since it is forever thinking of you at every moment. You can just take all the pieces of me until there is nothing left to give. And, I can be like your giving tree, always here, always giving, even when it seems like I have nothing I will muster it for you.
But you do not want me any longer. I have to keep moving, I know that, I'm doing it. But it's so hard not to return to an orbit that my constellation found its home in. I can't help it. We circle each other in the night's sky. Your scales dipping and swaying away from my outstretched claws, my neutered stinger. Yes, I said neutered. For surely there are only stings left for myself within them. No more left for you my sweet-ling. I could never cause you any more pain than I have. I keep moving, I keep calling these doctors, but like you, none of them will have me. There is no room at the Inn for me tonight, and it's with a heavy heavy heart I am turned away from each doorstep. I keep shuffling on, I keep running to the next door, pounding until I get a response. But no one has surfaced yet that will welcome me in. I know this will take time. Just like you and I, it will take time to get better. But I am just so weak when it's the night time. When it's all quiet and there's nothing and no one to distract me, my heart shatters into a thousand pieces all over again.
This is the distinct feeling of my heart breaking, then healing, then breaking again. It is like the slow mend of my tailbone that had to go through the same process to heal. Like that bone, the only bone I have ever broken, when it fuses I am sure my heart will be at a slant. I am sure that it will be tilted just a little further to the left, to the side that favors your dominant hand. So that if you should ever return, and feel like grasping it once more to know it's yours, it will be leaning into your palm's embrace with everything in it. I keep thinking, you will contact me soon. But now I am afraid it will not be for the reasons I had hoped for: not to ask me if I can come to therapy with you to talk about things we are both afraid to touch, not to go to a movie with me, not to just go out to coffee and talk. I keep thinking it will be soon, very soon, that you will contact me just to say "leave me alone." I keep thinking, we may never speak again. The mere thought rips through me like a flaming bullet made of broken glass and nerve gas.
Do you want me to stop writing you these letters?
Do you want me to leave you alone forever?
Do you want me out of your life for good?
The tears keep falling, and Led Zeppelin is doing its best to be cathartic. You should know, I am in love with everything you do just like I always was. My face is growing tight with the saline soaking it. My eyes are growing hot like embers in my skull from all the inflammation. I am sure I look like a wreck to those who see me. All but you. You who do not cast your benevolent glance my way. And why should you? Why would you ever again? When I have been so careless and cold with your love...It makes sense. I am not welcome. I know that. I wish to god I was, I really wish I was.
The pain and pressure in my chest shift and my heart slumps further to the left. It is reaching out to you, sending you love and devotion regardless of whether you want it. It is sending you feelings of healing and care so that you do not suffer needlessly, so that you heal quickly and move to happiness again very very soon. Meanwhile I am still looking for my health, I am picking up the pieces and finding the resources I know will help me put them back together in a way that will make me more healthy in the future. I am still doing my work, I am not completely going to pieces.
I'm not being self destructive or filled with self loathing. I am still resolved to change. I am still resolved to grow. And if I have to carry this broken leftward slanting heart in my ribs forever, pointing to that swallow which reminds me of you with its winsome smile, I'll do it gladly. At least I will have known, that I was able to love and change and be better. To make myself a new and keep the best parts of me. To winnow away the bad parts with work and my stubborn will, my passionate desire to do good. And maybe you will never know the benefits of those acts of evolution. Maybe you will always cast me away and never contact me again, never see me again, never love me again. But I will know I was better because of your love and because of the gift you gave me: sight.
I'm crying tonight, like I have done for every night since you left me. But the crying feels like a merciful release and I'm glad for the expenditure. At least I know, I can still feel. I can still bravely face myself and love myself, flaws and all. I can sit here in the dark with my tears and my heartache and I take these tailor's sheers to the canvas it was always meant to work on: my self. And, maybe someday...some fantastic day in the future, you will see me in your tailored goods, and I in mine and we will compliment each other so gloriously, we won't be able to help but fall in love all over again, and be truly healthy for each other, no longer afraid, no longer mistrusting.
Tarot Reading Nine 02.21.10
"The gamblers have placed their bets and the coin is flipping in the air. However, the grounded person keeps his coins, and his bets, in his pocket."
Authentic OnLine Do-It-Yourself Tarot Readings :: Tarot.com
You'll humor me, but the fool card in this spread was screaming at me to share this. If you'd read it you would see what I mean...
Authentic OnLine Do-It-Yourself Tarot Readings :: Tarot.com
You'll humor me, but the fool card in this spread was screaming at me to share this. If you'd read it you would see what I mean...
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Nine 02.21.10
Pain: it is knifing through me, sudden and sweet. It is turning my heart into a sore burning scrap of muscle. It is stinging in my eyes, letting them swell and redden with each tear drop that falls in an endless procession from my eyes. It is wracking my body with the violent shudders of my sobbing and the low wailing I can't seem to silence no matter how hard I try to. It is making my stomach lurch, threatening to empty its contents all over my feet. It is making my fingers numb with cold and my breath catch in my throat painfully.
You would think I would be used to this by now, but everything is different now. So very different. I'm not at all the same as I have been. Yes, this is pain, and it hurts to high hell in ways I never thought possible. I thought I knew pain like this, thought I'd had it worse off a thousand times before this. Not so. This is pain in a whole new way, like I've been carried to a new spectrum of misery. Everyone tells me it will get better, it will ease with time and distance. Part of me believes them, because I know life will go on; because this is the familiar part for me, the leaving. But the rest of me knows, as long as you are out of my life, some tender parts of me will suffer the neglect. Those pieces of me will mourn and threaten to wither, but I will not allow them to. I will keep it alive, feeding them on my most cherished memories of you:
The way you smelled the first time I met you. Your perfume "O" winding itself into my memory irrevocably.
The way I was so afraid to touch you, but couldn't help myself. Do you remember how my hands trembled? Do you remember feeling how my nerves soothed over as soon as I felt my hands warming on your skin?
The way I looked at you in the sunshine at Pride two years ago and knew I couldn't hold back what my heart had been screaming to you for weeks before that "I love you." I couldn't hold that frightening reality back anymore, even when I tried in vain to bury it with a pint of rum and an empty stomach. I was in love with you and it was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, because I knew, I was still too ill to love you the way I wanted to.
The way you smile when you're flirting with me, like you're going to eat me alive.
The way you silently shake when you are laughing so hard you can't make a sound.
The way you look when you are sleeping: so peaceful, so serene, I just wanted to hold you in my arms forever and watch you like that.
The way you wash your hair, lifting it off your back and letting it fall just so.
The way you clean your glasses, legs usually crossed, and are always asking where your "glasses cleaner cloth" went the same way I am always wondering where my keys are.
The fact that you carry the contents of the whole world in your purse and your bra, pulling odds and ends from them like Marry Poppins or some stage magician.
The way your breasts smell, sweet and richly of your scent, like fire and comfort and warmth and love.
The way you look me in the eye, unafraid of what you will find there, always seeming to marvel at their color, the same way I am marveling at yours.
The way you always have 1,000 books you want to buy when we walk into a bookstore, and god forbid we should walk by a book sale because I know we will need as much arm space as we can muster to cart home your treasures.
The way you make tell stories to people even though I know you could tell them better.
The way you sing along to music in my car, belting it out in your deep dulcet tones. It never mattered if it was classic rock or hip hop or musical theater, your voice was always beautiful, always yearning to be free on the wind.
The way your voice sounds: sweet, light, and luxurious like very dark chocolate.
In spite of this awful pain, still, you are angelic to me. I can barely muster words to describe this sensation. This is the most bittersweet kind of pain I have ever felt. I am still loving you, still so hopelessly in love with you, even though you are letting me go. Meanwhile, I'm doing my best to let you go too. I am doing my best to let you leave me behind and experience your life. I am not having trouble moving forward towards bettering myself.
In fact I am practically sprinting in that direction. I was so blind. I thought I was better, I thought I was better. I had no idea. It took you doing this, leaving me, for me to finally see: I am still unhealthy, I am still in denial, I am still causing myself pain. I'm acutely aware of how immature and arrogant I have been now. I have vowed to change, so that someday somehow I will be able to experience happiness and stability in all the ways I long for; in all the ways you helped me see were possible.
I'm sorry I broke down today and tried to talk to you.
I'm really sorry for that. It was a total moment of weakness, I just panicked and caved into the impulse. I wish I could be better about this for you. I wish I could be less weak, less of a sniveling pain ridden sap. I am trying, I am really really trying my hardest. I promise it will get better. Soon I'll be just a memory to you, and maybe soon, not a memory at all. I am so afraid you will forget all about me, push me out of your mind to move on, that you are never going to come back.
I guess that is the chance I have to take. I have to count on the fact that what you've said to me is true, that I am honoring your request for space and distance, no matter the pain it will cause me.
But I'm hoping, that you will think of me from time to time, and that gorgeous smile will spread across your face like sunbeams through forest branches. I am hoping you remember everything you told me about why you loved me, why you wanted to be with me, why you wanted to live your life with me. And, I hope you are able to answer all the questions you have. I hope you are able to have EVERY experience you are hungering for. I hope you are able to see and be in the world, a thing of love and beauty as you always are. And, I hope, you will contact me from time to time. I hope you will keep me in your life somehow. That you will leave me a way to communicate with you somehow after some time. I hope you will be able to see I am changing, and I hope you will grace me with the gift of being able to see you change too.
I look forward to the day when my children ask me about my true love. I am hoping if you are not their mother, she is no where around to hear me tell them all about you. I am hoping you know, you are the one for me, and I let you get away. I was foolish and arrogant and misguided with your love and I will pay for it dearly until you return. I did mean what I said to you tonight when I contacted you, there are some things I would like to tell you. Some things eventually I would like to give you. Somethings of yours I still have to locate and return to you. I hope that you will let me do all these things, when you are ready.
You would think I would be used to this by now, but everything is different now. So very different. I'm not at all the same as I have been. Yes, this is pain, and it hurts to high hell in ways I never thought possible. I thought I knew pain like this, thought I'd had it worse off a thousand times before this. Not so. This is pain in a whole new way, like I've been carried to a new spectrum of misery. Everyone tells me it will get better, it will ease with time and distance. Part of me believes them, because I know life will go on; because this is the familiar part for me, the leaving. But the rest of me knows, as long as you are out of my life, some tender parts of me will suffer the neglect. Those pieces of me will mourn and threaten to wither, but I will not allow them to. I will keep it alive, feeding them on my most cherished memories of you:
The way you smelled the first time I met you. Your perfume "O" winding itself into my memory irrevocably.
The way I was so afraid to touch you, but couldn't help myself. Do you remember how my hands trembled? Do you remember feeling how my nerves soothed over as soon as I felt my hands warming on your skin?
The way I looked at you in the sunshine at Pride two years ago and knew I couldn't hold back what my heart had been screaming to you for weeks before that "I love you." I couldn't hold that frightening reality back anymore, even when I tried in vain to bury it with a pint of rum and an empty stomach. I was in love with you and it was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, because I knew, I was still too ill to love you the way I wanted to.
The way you smile when you're flirting with me, like you're going to eat me alive.
The way you silently shake when you are laughing so hard you can't make a sound.
The way you look when you are sleeping: so peaceful, so serene, I just wanted to hold you in my arms forever and watch you like that.
The way you wash your hair, lifting it off your back and letting it fall just so.
The way you clean your glasses, legs usually crossed, and are always asking where your "glasses cleaner cloth" went the same way I am always wondering where my keys are.
The fact that you carry the contents of the whole world in your purse and your bra, pulling odds and ends from them like Marry Poppins or some stage magician.
The way your breasts smell, sweet and richly of your scent, like fire and comfort and warmth and love.
The way you look me in the eye, unafraid of what you will find there, always seeming to marvel at their color, the same way I am marveling at yours.
The way you always have 1,000 books you want to buy when we walk into a bookstore, and god forbid we should walk by a book sale because I know we will need as much arm space as we can muster to cart home your treasures.
The way you make tell stories to people even though I know you could tell them better.
The way you sing along to music in my car, belting it out in your deep dulcet tones. It never mattered if it was classic rock or hip hop or musical theater, your voice was always beautiful, always yearning to be free on the wind.
The way your voice sounds: sweet, light, and luxurious like very dark chocolate.
In spite of this awful pain, still, you are angelic to me. I can barely muster words to describe this sensation. This is the most bittersweet kind of pain I have ever felt. I am still loving you, still so hopelessly in love with you, even though you are letting me go. Meanwhile, I'm doing my best to let you go too. I am doing my best to let you leave me behind and experience your life. I am not having trouble moving forward towards bettering myself.
In fact I am practically sprinting in that direction. I was so blind. I thought I was better, I thought I was better. I had no idea. It took you doing this, leaving me, for me to finally see: I am still unhealthy, I am still in denial, I am still causing myself pain. I'm acutely aware of how immature and arrogant I have been now. I have vowed to change, so that someday somehow I will be able to experience happiness and stability in all the ways I long for; in all the ways you helped me see were possible.
I'm sorry I broke down today and tried to talk to you.
I'm really sorry for that. It was a total moment of weakness, I just panicked and caved into the impulse. I wish I could be better about this for you. I wish I could be less weak, less of a sniveling pain ridden sap. I am trying, I am really really trying my hardest. I promise it will get better. Soon I'll be just a memory to you, and maybe soon, not a memory at all. I am so afraid you will forget all about me, push me out of your mind to move on, that you are never going to come back.
I guess that is the chance I have to take. I have to count on the fact that what you've said to me is true, that I am honoring your request for space and distance, no matter the pain it will cause me.
But I'm hoping, that you will think of me from time to time, and that gorgeous smile will spread across your face like sunbeams through forest branches. I am hoping you remember everything you told me about why you loved me, why you wanted to be with me, why you wanted to live your life with me. And, I hope you are able to answer all the questions you have. I hope you are able to have EVERY experience you are hungering for. I hope you are able to see and be in the world, a thing of love and beauty as you always are. And, I hope, you will contact me from time to time. I hope you will keep me in your life somehow. That you will leave me a way to communicate with you somehow after some time. I hope you will be able to see I am changing, and I hope you will grace me with the gift of being able to see you change too.
I look forward to the day when my children ask me about my true love. I am hoping if you are not their mother, she is no where around to hear me tell them all about you. I am hoping you know, you are the one for me, and I let you get away. I was foolish and arrogant and misguided with your love and I will pay for it dearly until you return. I did mean what I said to you tonight when I contacted you, there are some things I would like to tell you. Some things eventually I would like to give you. Somethings of yours I still have to locate and return to you. I hope that you will let me do all these things, when you are ready.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Eight 02.20.10
The thought occurred to me today, as I read back through my letters to you, that I have already lost you. Could it be, that with time and distance, you will grow to think that I was never good to you? I pray that is not possible. I keep hoping what you have said to me since we parted is true; that you believe we are meant to be together, that you think this is just not the right time.
But, a word ,just a gentle word I will put in your ear if you feel yourself slipping away and forgetting why you loved me ever, why you thought I'd ever be worthy of that love again: come back and read my words to you. All of these words should remind you, I am many things, many flawed and fickle things, but one thing is and was always constant: I love you. Every word here was inspired by you, by your spirit, by your love. And, yes, I am guilty of being stubborn, immature, and hurtful; these words can bear testament to all those things. But I wish you could still keep site of the love I have and have had for you from the moment I met you. Since the very instant you entered my life I have been so profoundly lucky.
Just when I thought all hope was gone, of ever finding someone to share this life with, of finding a soul mate, you showed up and made me reconsider. I know, I have said so many, many times I don't believe in soul mates. Do you know why I have said that over and over and over? It's NOT that I honestly believe that, you changed my mind about that when I slept in your arms the first time. I only kept saying that because I was only protecting myself. Have you figured out, that was just me being fearful that it was true and I'd never be able to hold onto your love and I'd loose you? That I had to keep repeating it over and over to act like that was what I really believed, when every time we spoke about it I fell more and more in line with your way of thinking. If you could have heard what was really in my mind and heart in those moments, if I hadn't been such a smug asshole prick about it, holding onto the pain in my past, you would have known I KNOW you are my soul mate. That is part of my problem I realize, I hold onto my past in an unhealthy way. I act like it is still happening to me now when it's just me repeating it over and over because I don't know how to let go. I'm sorry I kept thrusting my denial onto you, I'm sorry I kept myself from daring to trust my instincts that you were the one for me and I should embrace you fully instead of drawing inside and lashing out at you. I like to think you know me well enough to see through my pretense and bullshit, you have certainly called me out on it enough over the years.
It feels so good to say that: years. I hope that this time is just a minor speed bump in a long unending line of years we spend together in the future. But the small nagging worry remains...Do you remember how I have loved you? There is no acrimony whatsoever in my heart for you. And my love is still so much alive. I tell everyone, I will never stop loving you, and I can see they doubt the words. But I know, I KNOW, I will never stop loving you. I know this because I can FEEL it reflected in every minute movement of my cells, every firework lightening strike of my synapses, every time I meditate I can feel its energy coursing through me and its essence is completely everlasting.
I am reading one of your letters you wrote me, a small e-mail you sent me a year ago before our first anniversary. The words comfort my heart and help me to know, you remember that I love you, that there is something here between us that warrants NOT turning our backs on but opening our arms to. In understand why you need to pull back now, you need time for yourself, and also I damaged your trust in me. I know that, I knew that the moment I let those terrible words slip from my mouth. I can't explain why I have done that. Sent you the wrong messages, told you something I don't even BELIEVE in. I think I got so used to being miserable and in pain for so long, I didn't know any other way to be. I didn't have the courage to break the cycle. I hadn't experienced bliss like this, one worth holding onto, one worth working for, one worth really embracing with as little fear as possible. So even though I am afraid you may look at me and say "she'll never be capable of loving me with the things I need" because you have seen my baser, ugly, vengeful side...I hope you are taking it to the bank that I have not and am not fostering ill will for you anywhere in my soul.
I gave you an empty warning in the car that night when I let you go and told you "I'm going to get nasty." I haven't yet, and I won't ever, not EVER. Your love has been so different for me, so life altering and different than the ones before. I never understood that I could be heartbroken this way and not turn it into a thing of pain and ugliness. Because of the way you let me go, gently, lovingly, still with dignity and respect, I cannot see you any other way than as you are: beautiful. Because you did not lie to me, but rather told me the painful truth that was hard to bear, I cannot lash out at you. Because you still are honoring the truth, instead of caving into weakness and taking me back on impulse, I cannot hate you. I know I have to rebuild your trust in me again. I know I have to grow and change myself to be able to embrace healthy ways of communicating, of letting go of my painful past and no longer letting it stand in the way of my future. I know, I may be saying too many things that contradict all that I have said before. These words now might seem baseless because they seem to come from a foreign mouth. One that is not acrid, biting, condescending, and abusive.
I was such a fool; I can only see that now. I am going to the lumbar yard tomorrow to get some wood. I am going to paint you some pieces. I hope you will not be angry with me when I leave it for you on your doorstep, I am keeping my fingers crossed you will forgive the intrusion. You could throw them away I suppose. You could just trash them and that would be fine. I wouldn't be angry. I would understand that being given gifts by someone like me who has given you PLENTY of reason to be suspicious of Trojan horses is not a reflection on you, but rather on me. My greatest fears are realized, I have infected you with my illness of doubt, of broken trust, of pain. How dare I....If it would make good on all the delusions I have given you, if I could take back that education of pain I honestly wanted to spare you from, I would make my recompense to you by giving you my eyes. My undeserving eyes still sting and bleed shimmering saline rivers at the thought of having lost you.
I was at my friends' house on Thursday night; the ones that live literally around the corner from you. I want you to know, I went to go see them because they are a loving tender couple. I wanted to see that with fresh eyes, unbound by my previous rigid arrogance. I wanted to see their baby and marvel that only two people who really loved each other like that could have created such a luminous ethereal kind of light beaming outwards from their hearts. They were merciful kind to me in the hours I spent speaking to them at their place. They took me in, wounded and weak. They filled me with hope and love and care. And, when I left they sent me with good wishes for my healing. While I was there, I thought of you constantly, but I enjoyed the time I spent with them. Your presence, your proximity, was not one that filled me with fear or upset. Rather it was as comforting as I imagine a mother's embrace is to a newborn infant.
And when I left there, tattered brown coat hanging all about me like a set of broken wings, I did not pass by your house. I made my exit respectfully, hoping my intrusion was not noticed with alarm. The thought did not cross my mind to interrupt your evening. Rather, it was with a heavy heart I drove away knowing that I had said to my friends' the visit before last I would be sure to bring you with me to introduce you to them. I am wishing I still could someday introduce you to them as my partner once more. What supreme bliss would be mine in being able to hold your hand in mine once more, to be able to kiss and caress you, to be able to hold you to me and tell you all the things I now long to tell you.
Empyrean is in your arms with my eyes reflected in your chocolate hazel vision. I am hoping you still have some reminders, some very real reminders, that I love you and that once and again my love was good enough to stay with me, despite my numerous flaws. I am hoping you will see that as I grow and mature, my previous hard shell of arrogance falls away for it has already begun. I am hoping you will beckon me back into your life, will summon me to therapy, will ask anything you require of me to prove my love for you is strong and healthy. Put my mettle to the test, let me show you I can appreciate all that I have yet to make good on, but that I can in fact make good on it.
Lonely pieces of me are crying out for you. Take all the time that you need, I am only praying that this silence is ended soon and we can at least begin to speak again, to try and navigate through hopes and fears to the healing and love I know we still share. I have given you my heart, the most vulnerable piece of me, and it wasn't until now I realized there was never any hope of taking it back, despite my misguided attempts to make real that fruit. For what was given cannot be taken back by force, or will, or request. I have yielded to this knowledge. You have my heart, and I wish for it no other home than your capable and caring hands. I am waiting for you, waiting for you to make contact. You said you are giving the 'sign' and I am only hoping it is meant for me, and that it leads me back to your heart.
But, a word ,just a gentle word I will put in your ear if you feel yourself slipping away and forgetting why you loved me ever, why you thought I'd ever be worthy of that love again: come back and read my words to you. All of these words should remind you, I am many things, many flawed and fickle things, but one thing is and was always constant: I love you. Every word here was inspired by you, by your spirit, by your love. And, yes, I am guilty of being stubborn, immature, and hurtful; these words can bear testament to all those things. But I wish you could still keep site of the love I have and have had for you from the moment I met you. Since the very instant you entered my life I have been so profoundly lucky.
Just when I thought all hope was gone, of ever finding someone to share this life with, of finding a soul mate, you showed up and made me reconsider. I know, I have said so many, many times I don't believe in soul mates. Do you know why I have said that over and over and over? It's NOT that I honestly believe that, you changed my mind about that when I slept in your arms the first time. I only kept saying that because I was only protecting myself. Have you figured out, that was just me being fearful that it was true and I'd never be able to hold onto your love and I'd loose you? That I had to keep repeating it over and over to act like that was what I really believed, when every time we spoke about it I fell more and more in line with your way of thinking. If you could have heard what was really in my mind and heart in those moments, if I hadn't been such a smug asshole prick about it, holding onto the pain in my past, you would have known I KNOW you are my soul mate. That is part of my problem I realize, I hold onto my past in an unhealthy way. I act like it is still happening to me now when it's just me repeating it over and over because I don't know how to let go. I'm sorry I kept thrusting my denial onto you, I'm sorry I kept myself from daring to trust my instincts that you were the one for me and I should embrace you fully instead of drawing inside and lashing out at you. I like to think you know me well enough to see through my pretense and bullshit, you have certainly called me out on it enough over the years.
It feels so good to say that: years. I hope that this time is just a minor speed bump in a long unending line of years we spend together in the future. But the small nagging worry remains...Do you remember how I have loved you? There is no acrimony whatsoever in my heart for you. And my love is still so much alive. I tell everyone, I will never stop loving you, and I can see they doubt the words. But I know, I KNOW, I will never stop loving you. I know this because I can FEEL it reflected in every minute movement of my cells, every firework lightening strike of my synapses, every time I meditate I can feel its energy coursing through me and its essence is completely everlasting.
I am reading one of your letters you wrote me, a small e-mail you sent me a year ago before our first anniversary. The words comfort my heart and help me to know, you remember that I love you, that there is something here between us that warrants NOT turning our backs on but opening our arms to. In understand why you need to pull back now, you need time for yourself, and also I damaged your trust in me. I know that, I knew that the moment I let those terrible words slip from my mouth. I can't explain why I have done that. Sent you the wrong messages, told you something I don't even BELIEVE in. I think I got so used to being miserable and in pain for so long, I didn't know any other way to be. I didn't have the courage to break the cycle. I hadn't experienced bliss like this, one worth holding onto, one worth working for, one worth really embracing with as little fear as possible. So even though I am afraid you may look at me and say "she'll never be capable of loving me with the things I need" because you have seen my baser, ugly, vengeful side...I hope you are taking it to the bank that I have not and am not fostering ill will for you anywhere in my soul.
I gave you an empty warning in the car that night when I let you go and told you "I'm going to get nasty." I haven't yet, and I won't ever, not EVER. Your love has been so different for me, so life altering and different than the ones before. I never understood that I could be heartbroken this way and not turn it into a thing of pain and ugliness. Because of the way you let me go, gently, lovingly, still with dignity and respect, I cannot see you any other way than as you are: beautiful. Because you did not lie to me, but rather told me the painful truth that was hard to bear, I cannot lash out at you. Because you still are honoring the truth, instead of caving into weakness and taking me back on impulse, I cannot hate you. I know I have to rebuild your trust in me again. I know I have to grow and change myself to be able to embrace healthy ways of communicating, of letting go of my painful past and no longer letting it stand in the way of my future. I know, I may be saying too many things that contradict all that I have said before. These words now might seem baseless because they seem to come from a foreign mouth. One that is not acrid, biting, condescending, and abusive.
I was such a fool; I can only see that now. I am going to the lumbar yard tomorrow to get some wood. I am going to paint you some pieces. I hope you will not be angry with me when I leave it for you on your doorstep, I am keeping my fingers crossed you will forgive the intrusion. You could throw them away I suppose. You could just trash them and that would be fine. I wouldn't be angry. I would understand that being given gifts by someone like me who has given you PLENTY of reason to be suspicious of Trojan horses is not a reflection on you, but rather on me. My greatest fears are realized, I have infected you with my illness of doubt, of broken trust, of pain. How dare I....If it would make good on all the delusions I have given you, if I could take back that education of pain I honestly wanted to spare you from, I would make my recompense to you by giving you my eyes. My undeserving eyes still sting and bleed shimmering saline rivers at the thought of having lost you.
I was at my friends' house on Thursday night; the ones that live literally around the corner from you. I want you to know, I went to go see them because they are a loving tender couple. I wanted to see that with fresh eyes, unbound by my previous rigid arrogance. I wanted to see their baby and marvel that only two people who really loved each other like that could have created such a luminous ethereal kind of light beaming outwards from their hearts. They were merciful kind to me in the hours I spent speaking to them at their place. They took me in, wounded and weak. They filled me with hope and love and care. And, when I left they sent me with good wishes for my healing. While I was there, I thought of you constantly, but I enjoyed the time I spent with them. Your presence, your proximity, was not one that filled me with fear or upset. Rather it was as comforting as I imagine a mother's embrace is to a newborn infant.
And when I left there, tattered brown coat hanging all about me like a set of broken wings, I did not pass by your house. I made my exit respectfully, hoping my intrusion was not noticed with alarm. The thought did not cross my mind to interrupt your evening. Rather, it was with a heavy heart I drove away knowing that I had said to my friends' the visit before last I would be sure to bring you with me to introduce you to them. I am wishing I still could someday introduce you to them as my partner once more. What supreme bliss would be mine in being able to hold your hand in mine once more, to be able to kiss and caress you, to be able to hold you to me and tell you all the things I now long to tell you.
Empyrean is in your arms with my eyes reflected in your chocolate hazel vision. I am hoping you still have some reminders, some very real reminders, that I love you and that once and again my love was good enough to stay with me, despite my numerous flaws. I am hoping you will see that as I grow and mature, my previous hard shell of arrogance falls away for it has already begun. I am hoping you will beckon me back into your life, will summon me to therapy, will ask anything you require of me to prove my love for you is strong and healthy. Put my mettle to the test, let me show you I can appreciate all that I have yet to make good on, but that I can in fact make good on it.
Lonely pieces of me are crying out for you. Take all the time that you need, I am only praying that this silence is ended soon and we can at least begin to speak again, to try and navigate through hopes and fears to the healing and love I know we still share. I have given you my heart, the most vulnerable piece of me, and it wasn't until now I realized there was never any hope of taking it back, despite my misguided attempts to make real that fruit. For what was given cannot be taken back by force, or will, or request. I have yielded to this knowledge. You have my heart, and I wish for it no other home than your capable and caring hands. I am waiting for you, waiting for you to make contact. You said you are giving the 'sign' and I am only hoping it is meant for me, and that it leads me back to your heart.
Seven 02.19.10
I'm a little fidgety today, I'm not sure why. Today I joined the weight loss clinic, they had to scan my body to visualize its composition. Had to see what to keep and what to work to shed, to discard, to transform. While they scanned me I had to lie still, perfectly still, unmoving. I was bound to the padded platform uncomfortably, an uneasy discomfited feeling pulsing through me, it was a direct contrast to the times I was bound by you all too willingly. Back then I was all fluid snake like movement, your ministrations revealing all the changing colors you swept through my skin, like a blazing sunset.
In spite of your absence now, I am still yours.
I am bound by time instead of black Smith and Weston handcuffs, but you, as always hold the keys; as usual you wear them like second skin. The ability to set me free, truly free, belongs to you. But, I, I prefer to be constricted, at least then I know I am still held by you; still your willing captive. I'm tracking movement with wide eyes, breathing shallow, not even registering reaction to the clicks, hums, and vibrations of this machine. It is such a soulless fusion, not at all the kind I am use to with you. It holds none of the divine allure of your touch, of your breath, the embrace of your essence. Wash over me once more, please, I beg you.
Let me know what it is to touch god while suspended in your embrace. Let me know once more what it is to feel each singular atom in me awaken, lighting up with the siren signal you transmit. Show me the sharp jagged shoreline I could perish against, let me slam against it. So long as I am wrapped in your caress I fear nothing. Remake me with your love, breathe your soul into me as you used to, let me glow with its amaranthine light. I am unafraid of the consequences. This is all the proof I require to know that you and I were fashioned to fit together like a key in the barrel of a lock. This feeling I have even now, of total life stirring arousal at the thought of you, this pulsing in my center, this is how I know I will always be yours.
No one has touched me the way you have, body mind and soul. No one will ever touch me this way again. They may try, and succeed only occasionally, but not one soul will ever speak to mine the way yours did when you solicited the sensation of my skin with your fingertips. Sasha, my love is all around you, I hope it does not cause you undue harm or discomfort. I hope you know, I am not loving you against my better judgment but because of it. I hope you know, that I am embarking in this time to change myself, to better myself, to evolve because I am truly wanting these changes for myself.
It's terribly selfish and shallow, but I pray you are thinking of me too, in some small way untainted by pain. I am sending you all my wishes that you are healing, that you are evolving too, that you are doing well with all your endeavors. But I am praying to the Gods above that you and I return to each other someday when we are ready.
My closest friends and I are all laughing at my expense, since you have permanently altered me in some very serious ways. Again, you will doubt these expressions, to be sure, but they are earnest and heartfelt, and so you must know them. How have I changed in a way that would make me quasi-pathetic to all my friends and worthy of mirth whilst in my misery?? How is it that I can joke that you have "ruined me" for anyone else henceforth??
Well, let me tell you: I love cats now. That I owe to you, and you alone. Before they were an animal I never understood nor truly cared for and they are now one I truly adamantly adore. I know, over the course of the rest of my life, I will assuredly have my own cats now, because of the way you showed me they were so lovable. They are intelligent, cute, and affectionate in their own way. And, yes, I miss your cats. I worry about Milton Mitten Mins and I even miss all the times I did not succumb to the REAL urges I had to bury my face in Ophelia's downy fur lined neck and nuzzle her despite my allergies.
I am now steadfastly a fan of Harry Potter. I won't even deny it. I admit it openly, you hooked me with your unabashed enthusiasm for it. I'm reading the books now...it's not just a way to keep you with me, but a way to really embrace the change you put into me. I can see it now as a great series of stories with rich scenery and multi-dimensional characters. I was being an elitist prick before, depriving myself of the fun and adventure these pages held because of some sense of erudite pride. I was wrong in thinking that way, these are good stories worth reading many, many times over. I am SO SAD that I will not be able to attend the Harry Potter premiere with you. And also, when I saw the commercials for Universal studios new Harry Potter themed area of the park, I wanted to take you there with me RIGHT AWAY. I wanted to interact with you there, your Sirius Black, your Padfoot, your loyal eternally devoted black mutt.
All the things I used to tease you about before I miss...I miss you asking me to watch 90210 every week. Ask me again now, I'll say YES. I miss the way you pick at your fingers until I curl your hand into mine. I miss the look of consternation that flows over your face, wrinkling your brow as your inner wheels turn and churn in an intellectual frenzy of thought. I miss the warm stuffy way your hair smells when you don't shower. I miss the way you smell when you sweat, when you toil. I miss your messy room, each drawer overflowing, bursting at the seems. I miss your congested bookcase that bears testament to your supreme intelligence. I miss the way you worry away your hours over school when you have such a natural aptitude for it. But I love that you worry still, because it means you are striving to do better each moment. You have made me proud of your WHOLE person. And I miss you so much for all these reasons and so many, many more I cannot mention.
Some part of me is praying that this is just time you needed to take and step back. To be able to see things more clearly with my absence and make some decisions, to set some things in motion. I hope you know I am NOT just saying these things to win you over. I hope you know, I am moved to this expression because it's the gods' honest truth and I could NEVER keep the truth from you for long. It pains me too much to keep things from you, I have to joke or tease or prod to cover them up when they start to show through my armor. I have cast the armor off. I am naked to you, I will remain that way, no matter the pain of the slings and arrows that may come. No matter the actions or words you may take to drive me from you in the end, I will remain unguarded to show you, I love you.
I want to tell you something very very important. If you want to be a teacher, I want you to embrace that. I would NEVER EVER EVER dream of keeping you from your passions, your dreams, or your vision. I would applaud you if you wanted to be a teacher. I was only afraid of what the change meant, I thought you were going to leave me. I see that was wrong. My obstinate behavior has driven you from me. I regret every moment of my resistance. Despite this, I hope my truth nature shows through. I love you, I don't care how much money you make, what jobs or careers paths you follow, or where you choose to pour your passions, just so long as you FOLLOW THEM. I think you would make a GREAT teacher. I think whatever you wanted to do, everyone around them would be LUCKY to have you near because they couldn't help but benefit from your presence and encouragement. This world NEEDS people like you in it Sasha, to make all the differences to it it is begging for: more love, more kindness, more compassion, more intelligence, more service to others, more reaching, more growing, more joy. All these things are WORTH teaching and infecting others with. PLEASE DO SO!!!
Take me back, take me with you while you grow and change and live your life. Let me be your partner again. You don't have to do it now, but please, someday, please take me back. Take me to Philly with you, take me to New York, take me around the world with you, holding your hand, fused in your heart. Marry me on Halloween in Louisiana, have my babies one day, and above all grow and let me watch you take shape as I do too in my own ways. Please, I PRAY YOU ARE READING THESE LETTERS, please be reading them. Send me a sign so I know you are receiving what I am saying, if you need more proof to trust me, to love me, to be with me, I can provide it. If you need to see we can be healthy first apart, then so be it. BUT PLEASE let me SHOW YOU we can also build health TOGETHER.
These shackles don't pinch or chafe the way I am used to. The collar around my neck bears your address. Someday soon someone may find this strange stray black dog jaunting about your neighborhood. When they bring me home to you, I hope you'll take me in and not cast me out into the street. In the meantime, these shackles don't hurt, they are comforting, they let me know: I am still yours, I am still willing, I am still so in love with you.
In spite of your absence now, I am still yours.
I am bound by time instead of black Smith and Weston handcuffs, but you, as always hold the keys; as usual you wear them like second skin. The ability to set me free, truly free, belongs to you. But, I, I prefer to be constricted, at least then I know I am still held by you; still your willing captive. I'm tracking movement with wide eyes, breathing shallow, not even registering reaction to the clicks, hums, and vibrations of this machine. It is such a soulless fusion, not at all the kind I am use to with you. It holds none of the divine allure of your touch, of your breath, the embrace of your essence. Wash over me once more, please, I beg you.
Let me know what it is to touch god while suspended in your embrace. Let me know once more what it is to feel each singular atom in me awaken, lighting up with the siren signal you transmit. Show me the sharp jagged shoreline I could perish against, let me slam against it. So long as I am wrapped in your caress I fear nothing. Remake me with your love, breathe your soul into me as you used to, let me glow with its amaranthine light. I am unafraid of the consequences. This is all the proof I require to know that you and I were fashioned to fit together like a key in the barrel of a lock. This feeling I have even now, of total life stirring arousal at the thought of you, this pulsing in my center, this is how I know I will always be yours.
No one has touched me the way you have, body mind and soul. No one will ever touch me this way again. They may try, and succeed only occasionally, but not one soul will ever speak to mine the way yours did when you solicited the sensation of my skin with your fingertips. Sasha, my love is all around you, I hope it does not cause you undue harm or discomfort. I hope you know, I am not loving you against my better judgment but because of it. I hope you know, that I am embarking in this time to change myself, to better myself, to evolve because I am truly wanting these changes for myself.
It's terribly selfish and shallow, but I pray you are thinking of me too, in some small way untainted by pain. I am sending you all my wishes that you are healing, that you are evolving too, that you are doing well with all your endeavors. But I am praying to the Gods above that you and I return to each other someday when we are ready.
My closest friends and I are all laughing at my expense, since you have permanently altered me in some very serious ways. Again, you will doubt these expressions, to be sure, but they are earnest and heartfelt, and so you must know them. How have I changed in a way that would make me quasi-pathetic to all my friends and worthy of mirth whilst in my misery?? How is it that I can joke that you have "ruined me" for anyone else henceforth??
Well, let me tell you: I love cats now. That I owe to you, and you alone. Before they were an animal I never understood nor truly cared for and they are now one I truly adamantly adore. I know, over the course of the rest of my life, I will assuredly have my own cats now, because of the way you showed me they were so lovable. They are intelligent, cute, and affectionate in their own way. And, yes, I miss your cats. I worry about Milton Mitten Mins and I even miss all the times I did not succumb to the REAL urges I had to bury my face in Ophelia's downy fur lined neck and nuzzle her despite my allergies.
I am now steadfastly a fan of Harry Potter. I won't even deny it. I admit it openly, you hooked me with your unabashed enthusiasm for it. I'm reading the books now...it's not just a way to keep you with me, but a way to really embrace the change you put into me. I can see it now as a great series of stories with rich scenery and multi-dimensional characters. I was being an elitist prick before, depriving myself of the fun and adventure these pages held because of some sense of erudite pride. I was wrong in thinking that way, these are good stories worth reading many, many times over. I am SO SAD that I will not be able to attend the Harry Potter premiere with you. And also, when I saw the commercials for Universal studios new Harry Potter themed area of the park, I wanted to take you there with me RIGHT AWAY. I wanted to interact with you there, your Sirius Black, your Padfoot, your loyal eternally devoted black mutt.
All the things I used to tease you about before I miss...I miss you asking me to watch 90210 every week. Ask me again now, I'll say YES. I miss the way you pick at your fingers until I curl your hand into mine. I miss the look of consternation that flows over your face, wrinkling your brow as your inner wheels turn and churn in an intellectual frenzy of thought. I miss the warm stuffy way your hair smells when you don't shower. I miss the way you smell when you sweat, when you toil. I miss your messy room, each drawer overflowing, bursting at the seems. I miss your congested bookcase that bears testament to your supreme intelligence. I miss the way you worry away your hours over school when you have such a natural aptitude for it. But I love that you worry still, because it means you are striving to do better each moment. You have made me proud of your WHOLE person. And I miss you so much for all these reasons and so many, many more I cannot mention.
Some part of me is praying that this is just time you needed to take and step back. To be able to see things more clearly with my absence and make some decisions, to set some things in motion. I hope you know I am NOT just saying these things to win you over. I hope you know, I am moved to this expression because it's the gods' honest truth and I could NEVER keep the truth from you for long. It pains me too much to keep things from you, I have to joke or tease or prod to cover them up when they start to show through my armor. I have cast the armor off. I am naked to you, I will remain that way, no matter the pain of the slings and arrows that may come. No matter the actions or words you may take to drive me from you in the end, I will remain unguarded to show you, I love you.
I want to tell you something very very important. If you want to be a teacher, I want you to embrace that. I would NEVER EVER EVER dream of keeping you from your passions, your dreams, or your vision. I would applaud you if you wanted to be a teacher. I was only afraid of what the change meant, I thought you were going to leave me. I see that was wrong. My obstinate behavior has driven you from me. I regret every moment of my resistance. Despite this, I hope my truth nature shows through. I love you, I don't care how much money you make, what jobs or careers paths you follow, or where you choose to pour your passions, just so long as you FOLLOW THEM. I think you would make a GREAT teacher. I think whatever you wanted to do, everyone around them would be LUCKY to have you near because they couldn't help but benefit from your presence and encouragement. This world NEEDS people like you in it Sasha, to make all the differences to it it is begging for: more love, more kindness, more compassion, more intelligence, more service to others, more reaching, more growing, more joy. All these things are WORTH teaching and infecting others with. PLEASE DO SO!!!
Take me back, take me with you while you grow and change and live your life. Let me be your partner again. You don't have to do it now, but please, someday, please take me back. Take me to Philly with you, take me to New York, take me around the world with you, holding your hand, fused in your heart. Marry me on Halloween in Louisiana, have my babies one day, and above all grow and let me watch you take shape as I do too in my own ways. Please, I PRAY YOU ARE READING THESE LETTERS, please be reading them. Send me a sign so I know you are receiving what I am saying, if you need more proof to trust me, to love me, to be with me, I can provide it. If you need to see we can be healthy first apart, then so be it. BUT PLEASE let me SHOW YOU we can also build health TOGETHER.
These shackles don't pinch or chafe the way I am used to. The collar around my neck bears your address. Someday soon someone may find this strange stray black dog jaunting about your neighborhood. When they bring me home to you, I hope you'll take me in and not cast me out into the street. In the meantime, these shackles don't hurt, they are comforting, they let me know: I am still yours, I am still willing, I am still so in love with you.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Six 02.18.10
There has been a fog for days now. It is shrouding everything in mystery and uncertainty. Obfuscating and obscuring everything in my path, it lends a palpable air of the unknown to everything it swirls about. This is a fitting reflection. This is a fitting reflection, indeed. The fog hangs suspended, but moves with a sentient quality I cannot explain. As I navigate about my days and nights it reflects the qualities of change - the ambiguity, the apprehension, and the feeling that everything is just nearly out of reach; Hovering outside my grasp until it is right and ready to appear. Suddenly trees unfurl themselves assertively from this phantom blanket of woolen fog. Figures blur, then emerge and retreat. I'm feeling a little like the hedgehog in the famous Russian animator Yuri Norstein's cartoon "The hedgehog and the fog." (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRsXU4Q6a0Q)
My days are filled with a healthy mixture of the mundane and the exotic, traffic jams and plane crashes all. Everyday a new strange set of circumstances surrounds me. Signs from the divine to hold out hope come to me in undeniable declarations, I wonder if you are getting the messages too. I am observing the raw daunting novelty of everything. But still, I miss you. I wonder how you are, dancing, spinning out there in the fog? Sometimes I wonder how or why it is you have not contacted me. It's so fucking difficult for me not to contact you...SO ARDUOUS. But I try my best not to do it. I want to show you I can respect what you have requested. I can put your needs above my pain and selfish impulses. I can be strong and not crumble, not crack, not break down. I know I can't force you to love me, to trust me again, I must EARN those gifts back. I am committed to that task and however long it takes. Still, I am human. I wonder after you, care and concern are my cloak and cap. Are you alright? Are you happy? Are you feeling better? Are you healing? Questions fill my mind, questions that will not be answered soon. Questions that will be left to linger in the fog, dissipating as it burns off in the sunshine of untold days, weeks, months until we speak again.
I received the letter from your parents last night...it was so serendipitous. I was having a miserable night, the pain had surfaced again, despite my best efforts to quell it. And I had slipped into the comforting ebony envelope of exhaustion, I have to get my sleep where I can these days. My mother woke me, I don't know how long I had laid there in the dark breathing deeply in slumber, happy for the abyss it provided. There was food, she was trying to lure me with it. I started to rise, but not from my appetite motivating me, because I have no stomach for worldly things as of yet, but out of an earnest desire to keep moving. I was slow and clumsy with fatigue, fumbling out of the bed, until she mentioned the letter. MY eyes shot open, my body coiled like a spring, and I hung in suspended animation disbelieving what she had said. "What?!" I asked breathlessly, "from her???" My mother nodded with solemn mien and lead me out of my room. I rushed past the dinner I did not eat and found the letter in the kitchen. It was in your mother's scrawl, I recognized it instantly, the awkwardly curvy resemblance to your own.
Impatient, I tore it open, the dread and repose sliding all over me in the same moment. The card was a thing of beauty, a total benevolent act of assurance, that I am not sure I deserve. Her words of kindness and compassion soothed my ragged nerves and helped to put my broken heart into a state of further mend. It seemed to me at least, she was thankful for my presence too, that she was also rooting that we would return to each other someday. Despite her words of wanting to have me still reach out to them should I need it in the future, I was filled with a deep longing, a sadness I couldn't disregard. In that moment I knew, I had lost more than you, I had lost my second family. I am praying, praying, praying that we can all do our own self work and grow to come again together once more. I am praying for it with every piece of my soul.
I'm sorry if that makes me selfish. I think about our love and it's peerless. I think about how our love would be if we could both be healthy and have it reflect that mutual health and it's transcendent. Call me selfish then because I am now assiduously bound to my path of growth and healing. But with that in mind, I don't see any reason not to at least humor the possibility that in the future we could be together again. I am only wondering now, do you still feel the same?
So many times I want to contact you and ask you, "Can we just call this what it really is? a break? not a break up? Can't we just agree that we are both out here working weathering this absence, but that we want to return to each other?" But I won't ask you that, you'll have to tell me it, I can't ask you for fear of invading the space I am trying to give you, of wounding the trust I am trying to build by showing I heard you, I understood you, I love you, I am honoring you. But even if I have to wait to hear you say this for months or years I will. Because I am so firm, so resolute that you will return and I KNOW already I will be healthier when you do, because I am already walking my own path to individual health for me. I have my first consultation appointments scheduled with therapists next week. I have spoken with my parents to get them on board with my progress to make it lasting and beneficial for us all. I am joining the weight loss program tomorrow and I'm starting on a 3 month journey of self regeneration. I am working on my art work everyday again, and trying to get more and more advanced with my techniques. I am spending more time in the world, seeing friends, going places, because I was just so stagnant I let it get the better of me, and then I let it get the better of you too.
Please Sasha, please know I don't write these missives to hurt or manipulate you. I want you to know, it's only been a week, I know that...I know that change doesn't happen over night. I know that you have not had the time you need to answer all the questions you have. I know that a week, even though it feels like 50 years in the desert, is nothing. I cannot exhibit long lasting, beneficial, steady change to you in a mere week. But I hope that you can see that I am working on myself, for myself, and that this is the start of something new and wonderful for me. I hope you know that I love you still, so so much. And I hope that you know that while we are out in the fog, I am tending the home fires for your safe return. I am calling to you and hoping that what your mother wrote on the envelope for me is true:
"(S will contact you soon.)"
My days are filled with a healthy mixture of the mundane and the exotic, traffic jams and plane crashes all. Everyday a new strange set of circumstances surrounds me. Signs from the divine to hold out hope come to me in undeniable declarations, I wonder if you are getting the messages too. I am observing the raw daunting novelty of everything. But still, I miss you. I wonder how you are, dancing, spinning out there in the fog? Sometimes I wonder how or why it is you have not contacted me. It's so fucking difficult for me not to contact you...SO ARDUOUS. But I try my best not to do it. I want to show you I can respect what you have requested. I can put your needs above my pain and selfish impulses. I can be strong and not crumble, not crack, not break down. I know I can't force you to love me, to trust me again, I must EARN those gifts back. I am committed to that task and however long it takes. Still, I am human. I wonder after you, care and concern are my cloak and cap. Are you alright? Are you happy? Are you feeling better? Are you healing? Questions fill my mind, questions that will not be answered soon. Questions that will be left to linger in the fog, dissipating as it burns off in the sunshine of untold days, weeks, months until we speak again.
I received the letter from your parents last night...it was so serendipitous. I was having a miserable night, the pain had surfaced again, despite my best efforts to quell it. And I had slipped into the comforting ebony envelope of exhaustion, I have to get my sleep where I can these days. My mother woke me, I don't know how long I had laid there in the dark breathing deeply in slumber, happy for the abyss it provided. There was food, she was trying to lure me with it. I started to rise, but not from my appetite motivating me, because I have no stomach for worldly things as of yet, but out of an earnest desire to keep moving. I was slow and clumsy with fatigue, fumbling out of the bed, until she mentioned the letter. MY eyes shot open, my body coiled like a spring, and I hung in suspended animation disbelieving what she had said. "What?!" I asked breathlessly, "from her???" My mother nodded with solemn mien and lead me out of my room. I rushed past the dinner I did not eat and found the letter in the kitchen. It was in your mother's scrawl, I recognized it instantly, the awkwardly curvy resemblance to your own.
Impatient, I tore it open, the dread and repose sliding all over me in the same moment. The card was a thing of beauty, a total benevolent act of assurance, that I am not sure I deserve. Her words of kindness and compassion soothed my ragged nerves and helped to put my broken heart into a state of further mend. It seemed to me at least, she was thankful for my presence too, that she was also rooting that we would return to each other someday. Despite her words of wanting to have me still reach out to them should I need it in the future, I was filled with a deep longing, a sadness I couldn't disregard. In that moment I knew, I had lost more than you, I had lost my second family. I am praying, praying, praying that we can all do our own self work and grow to come again together once more. I am praying for it with every piece of my soul.
I'm sorry if that makes me selfish. I think about our love and it's peerless. I think about how our love would be if we could both be healthy and have it reflect that mutual health and it's transcendent. Call me selfish then because I am now assiduously bound to my path of growth and healing. But with that in mind, I don't see any reason not to at least humor the possibility that in the future we could be together again. I am only wondering now, do you still feel the same?
So many times I want to contact you and ask you, "Can we just call this what it really is? a break? not a break up? Can't we just agree that we are both out here working weathering this absence, but that we want to return to each other?" But I won't ask you that, you'll have to tell me it, I can't ask you for fear of invading the space I am trying to give you, of wounding the trust I am trying to build by showing I heard you, I understood you, I love you, I am honoring you. But even if I have to wait to hear you say this for months or years I will. Because I am so firm, so resolute that you will return and I KNOW already I will be healthier when you do, because I am already walking my own path to individual health for me. I have my first consultation appointments scheduled with therapists next week. I have spoken with my parents to get them on board with my progress to make it lasting and beneficial for us all. I am joining the weight loss program tomorrow and I'm starting on a 3 month journey of self regeneration. I am working on my art work everyday again, and trying to get more and more advanced with my techniques. I am spending more time in the world, seeing friends, going places, because I was just so stagnant I let it get the better of me, and then I let it get the better of you too.
Please Sasha, please know I don't write these missives to hurt or manipulate you. I want you to know, it's only been a week, I know that...I know that change doesn't happen over night. I know that you have not had the time you need to answer all the questions you have. I know that a week, even though it feels like 50 years in the desert, is nothing. I cannot exhibit long lasting, beneficial, steady change to you in a mere week. But I hope that you can see that I am working on myself, for myself, and that this is the start of something new and wonderful for me. I hope you know that I love you still, so so much. And I hope that you know that while we are out in the fog, I am tending the home fires for your safe return. I am calling to you and hoping that what your mother wrote on the envelope for me is true:
"(S will contact you soon.)"
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