I wanted to express my gratitude to you, and this is the best way.
Thank you for not saying happy birthday last week. That may sound sarcastic but it’s not. It did affect me, if it was intentional like I suspect, but probably not in the way you intended. It was exactly what I needed, and it helped me finally get where I needed to be.
Thank you for not changing at all, for still giving me your special brand of cold silence at the predictable times, and for keeping up the manipulative efforts, even in my warmest moments (I know those are your favorite).
Thank you for taking the opportunity to emphasize, in the midst of our forgiveness conversations, that the way it ended was not good for you. (I think you were referring to me feeling hurt after you deceived me and promptly removing myself from your line of fire?) I’m glad you clarified that you don’t blame me for it, though. I was really worried about that. I admit that part was sarcastic.
Speaking of worry, I know how much you were worried about me when I was in the hospital, because of the fact that you never said one thing to me afterward. (To clarify, I am aware you were indifferent about what I went through, another blessing in disguise.) I am appreciative you were so self-absorbed and seemingly incapable of empathy, back then and always. Treating me like less than a person when it was life or death was probably one of your most gracious moves, as far as long-term impact. Your consistency of character in such a crucial moment made it easier for me to see you for who you really were, to separate fact from fiction, and to get my life back together.
My concern for you lately was genuine, though, as it always was, and I’m glad that I had the opportunity to show you love and forgive you, the way I used to wish you had done for me… before I accepted it would never happen.
I already took responsibility for my wrongs, apologized (far too much, I now realize), and went out of my way to move past this. For me, it’s never been about balancing the scales. I know that is a foreign concept to you. Unlike the old me, I understand that expectations and boundaries are two separate things, so I have fewer of the first and more of the second. I hope you realize that me cutting you off permanently is the best boundary I can have for myself, and why. You said you completely understand, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.
I’m writing because I thought it was time to speak up finally, to exercise some compassion on my own behalf. I do have some left these days, despite how much you siphoned from me. I now reserve my heart for the people in my life who are capable of giving, too. Who are genuine, honest, and loving. There are tons of people like that in the world, and if you would stop seeing them as objects that exist for your benefit or competition you need to destroy, you might learn something about how to have a real relationship. I am sorry if that sounds harsh, but the truth is not always pleasant.
I am proud of myself for coming back from something so difficult. Many people don’t get the outcome I did. I won’t get into specifics, as I put that all behind me. I don’t consider myself a victim, as that has always been your preferred role, and I would never try to take it from you. I hope that someday you can finally see who is responsible for all the misery in your life, for the failed relationships and people “giving up on you.” (Hint: it’s not me, and it’s not “them.”)
It will never be me, and I hope that has finally sank in all the way. I am happy where I am, and much better off. What we had was not real, because you were not real. That was your choice, and the way you live your life is your choice. The consequences are only yours, and you can keep them. I don’t agree with your version of things anymore. Good luck with everything.
-if you know it’s you, you’ll know it’s me
Just thinking about you. Haven’t thought of you in a while. Wish you would make a move. I wonder if you still come here.
I choose to love you because its all I know
Its all I have ever known
Even if you don’t want me.
My heart will always beat for you
Thats all its ever done
Thats all it has ever known
I choose to hang on even when there is no hope
Because its the only thing that makes sense to me
I choose to believe in you
Because you are God’s Divine miracle
I choose love not because I am in love with love
But because love is that inherent part that is you living in me
Loving you is all I have even when you don’t love me
My words may seem like lies to you
But its not compared to the truth thats hidden deep in my soul
Please don’t judge me my love
Loving you doesn’t mean I am mentally insane
Loving you doesn’t mean I am a fool
Loving you doesn’t mean I am your enemy
It just is
Love for the man I am in love with
I love you Tony
My clean shaved head, brown eyes, dimpled cheeks prince
Rantings of a woman in love
A girl shouldn’t have to wait up until 11pm on Valentine’s Day and hold her pillow while standing up to mimic human contact, and cry quietly until 12am because she remembers what he smelled like. A girl shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable at the touch from another human being; like a handshake or a hug from her parents. -The things you told me, I’ll take to my grave. The memories I’ll cherish forever. The pain I feel will linger, but the love I feel for you will never die. The chaos, the pain, the stinging words that used to be so heartfelt and gentle, the cold, cracked hearts. It’s all unforgettable. The music. The lights. The laughter. Our wide smiles hidden behind hands or hoods. The paintings. The photographs, the blood, the heartfelt sacrifices and last minute, hastened goodbyes. The chances taken and the lives almost lost. The words never said, but were tucked in between other words. The poetry never published. To the point where I still shower but I hate it because you were waiting behind the red curtains. To the point where I can’t even stand to look at myself anymore because you saw too much of me. To the point where I want to punch the living hell out of your beautiful face, but I know I’d just butterfly my fingertips down your cheekbone. To the faces I cannot remember and the names I can’t remember and dare not speak of. When you left, my toothbrush was red from scrubbing my teeth and my tongue; trying to scrape your name out of my mouth. I cried till I vomited in the shower water that froze my body; three times. Old, shattered memories come to me in the form of old friend’s faces, and they ghost their arms around me on my cold nights under my string lights of stars. I live in a silent pain, moving but not actually doing anything, like a street mime in New York. Nobody can hear my begging, or hear my whispered pleas to be loved, a plea for the most gentle kiss; for acceptance. Maybe I’m just meant to leave pieces of myself behind with people I’ve met. I fall in love with people that pass me on the streets, or in love with the artwork in a shop’s windows. I wake up at 2am, crying, and sometimes I sit up in the dark quickly, as if I heard a baby crying or as if I heard someone beside me; or I write poetry with my wilting fingers. Maybe I’ll be alone forever, maybe I’m not meant to hear my husband’s voice read to my baby at bedtime. Or maybe I’m not meant to live as I so badly wish to. There are so many rules, so many chains and requirements. Maybe I’m just meant to have people wink at me in public and lust after me. Most of the time I feel like all I can do is just give, and give and give, and not get anything in return because that’s how it’s supposed to be with me. I have had many quick, affairs in my drunken sins that pooled into my brain. I have met many who have had major everlasting impacts on me. This kind of pain, this; this aching is not something I would wish upon any soul. I feel as if it is a eternal curse with twisted miracles. Anyone who reads this, If you have a wife or husband, I beg of you please, kiss them goodnight. Talk to them about their favorite book or movie. Let them have their little crush on that actor. Let them suck on your fingers in the shower for comfort, but not sexually. Whenever they stare out the window blankly, or look straight through you, or say nothing for the day, do not be hasty, I beg, Please take them in your arms, take them to bed and lay with them in the most innocent way, hold them like a small child, cradle them to your heartbeat until they come back to you. I beg, please tell your wife or husband that you love them. Kiss their sandwich after you make it for their lunch. Leave little “I love you’s” notes in their shoes, on the mirror, in her makeup bag, or taped around his old spice deodorant. Because once you slip, once you let go and not say what needs to be said, or do the little things that need to be done, you will lose them, things will turn to dust. And believe me, your bones will break, your heart will cry and send memories through your blood with every thump, like poison in your veins. Take a moment to put her pretty hair behind her ear. Take a moment to hug him from behind. Silence in the presence of love is the loudest silence of all. If any of you can assist me in any way with what I have written, I will accept any comments or suggestions.
I still can’t be quite sure, but if you aren’t here, then it must be your spirit writing through someone else. Or maybe I am just hoping.