That was the sound of my strength breaking apart and these words…These words are what has spilled from between those cracks.
Hello. I don’t know if you can see me, but this is my voice attempting to penetrate your eyes.
I feel whimsically depressing right at this moment, and I thank god for it. I thank god that I can produce emotional words into the palms of your papery hands. The irony of being so weak right now, is that I fear I won’t have enough strength to send this message to you. I hope that if I do, something more than distasteful repercussions, or noiseless digression will come of it.
My narcissistic perception of these messages, are in fact, how narcissistic my approach is to writing them. Mostly, I revolve around my mental state and update you on who I am, what I want, where I am going, and I say all of this without a voice in return. I can only assure you that if I could ask you a question with certainty that you’d reply, I’d ask it a million times and more. I then must analyze why I write to you now…I guess I can only answer that, I feel guilty for giving up on our friendship. I feel apologetic to my two-year passion of trying to captivate you. Also, I guess I would just like to ask how your life is progressing, if you have everything you’ve ever wanted yet? What paths are you exploring? Can I be a part of your life again? Am I a fool for wanting a piece of yours?
I know that you and I are slowly thickening into a forgotten memory. Sometimes I get stuck between a rush of past and the realization that it’s gone and who I am now. I read memories that I don’t recall, I hear songs that remind me of newer times, I create monumental memories that you don’t contaminate. This is my life. A child would fail at recognizing that the past is gone, a fool would fail to pick up the pieces and move on. I wait for the day that I am no longer this foolish child.
I am not writing this to captivate you, or tell you I am dying and need your voice to save me. I wish I could dissect my subconscious and find the real reasons why I am all I can say is that, I mean to just, simply….write, because that is all I can do right now, and I am not going to waste this sliver of opportunity. I write because I know that you and I will never collide, and that the imprint of your kiss is engraved in our “relationship tombstone” I know that I will marry another man, and my children will not have your facial structure or genetic makeup or brilliant blue eyes. I know that Stacey has captivated your happiness and owns the right to your love. In this sense, I am not a child, because I understand what is truth. However, the hollow shell of my soul this truth has left me with, is overwhelming and uninspiring. My narcissistic self-pity is much too echoey for anyone to handle, me especially..
You may not wish to soak in my spill of “who I am right now”. I say this because, well….if you wanted to know, you would have asked me yourself. Well, I will go out on a limb and convince myself that it will somehow be productive informing you anyhow. So, who am I right now? I am a lot of things, and nothing all at once if this makes any sense. I feel that your empty space has distastefully shocked my entire body into coma. I laugh at it’s unhealthy expense because of how I always knew it had this coming. I laugh at this caved in sack of skin that wraps around my bones and so-called organs, I laugh at how it combusts and malfunctions in every human relationship it can touch, I laugh at when it’s curled up between the hot sheets of my bed, between the hot sweat of another boy, between his hot embrace, feeling anything but warmth. I laugh because I created this stupid, skillfully, sculpted scenario. Every prickle in my gut or sliver in my skin is the reaction of my actions and the recreation of my creation.
In other-words, I deserve all that I have made possible to fail, especially myself.
Soon I will be seeing a psychiatrist. I feel like I tell you this to finally say, “Davis you were right, always are, always will be.”
You always saw straight through me to my disappointing, corrupted interiors. You set off every warning alarm that you could, yet I refused to take notice. Now, here I am sitting in a stagnant pool of my filthy reality. Here I am begging for help. I guess it does sort of make sense for someone who, “lives their life for love,” and who has “everyone they love abandon them,” to go a little mad. I try to be optimistic and tell myself that I have much to be thankful for (which I do)…the thing is, I am unappreciative of life. The thing that I refuse to believe is that all those who I have loved have left me because they are terrible people. Instead, I reverse this into believing that I obviously am the only thing terrible. I have failed at the one thing I care most about, relationships. I have failed to hold onto them, maintain them, and create new ones. The ones I do create are 2 dimensional and are not connective, productive, or sometimes, even remembered. I hope that someday I will escape this sad scenario and reclaim my identity again. I have much to bitch about I guess. The world has shut the lights off in my present location and I refuse to walk through the dark like so many strong people could do. I know that things will turn out pleasant someday.
I miss so many things about your character.
At times I wonder why your influence was so debilitating and corrupting to me. I wonder what I did wrong to make someone like you so wonderful, have such a negative impact on my life.
What I miss most is the way we could connect on so many levels. Though at times I felt we were in two separate realities….there were other times when our connection was more vivid than the connection with the physical world around me. I loved that you had insecurities about your character sometimes, I loved that you had deep rooted pain from your childhood and that you could openly share that with me, I loved that even though it must have been terrible for you…it has created such a stunning person now.
Maybe it contributed to many flaws as well, but with bad comes brilliant too. I am glad we tried out a long distance relationship…I mean it does sort of feel like a waste of time, and what contributed to my distorted reality and lost connection with other people…but it was also the way we became friends. Before you left, you and I were liquid sex and physical, situational, eventful memories. After you left, is when we finally figured out who we really were, without the physical connection.
I guess all I really mean to say, is how much I miss what was, and how sorry I am for what we now are. I hope we will collide brilliantly someday.
I’d die happy if I even had a single second to see you.