Sweet. Pretty. Soft. Cold. Leaves a residue. Has a kick. Makes you grimace, burns your throat. This is how I would describe it. How I would tell anyone if they wanted to experience it. Order a Malibu Dream. Sit at a table with someone you once thought you knew. Someone you once loved.
It hurt. It was intense. It was painful. My head kept spinning. My heart was bleeding. Everything in me felt as though it was being torn apart. But I needed to keep that soft exterior. Everyone I loved was in my head. I had to do this. It came over me and nothing could reverse the fact that here I am, and this is it.
The words spilled from me and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t hold back, I was honest. And the truth isn’t pretty. But the facts are the facts. To evoke such a cold soul to tears, shocked me. For someone to need three cigarettes just from my words.
I hope. I pray. That I broke the glass. That I ended the coma. That what was once blurry became clear. It has to happen this way. Or everything ends and it is all war.
You told me you loved me and I couldn’t respond. This was a night of honesty. Not forced words. Everything I said was the truth. I believe everything you said was true in your messed up ways, but you have to show that you mean these things.
You told me how much I had blown you away. How elegant I was. It was just from me speaking the truth. Just from me finally being who I am, when I was around you before I was always so closed up. It was different because I wasn’t afraid. You couldn’t hurt me in such a setting.
I told you to stop speaking hateful things about me. I explained my point of view on religion, on how I believe, on who I am. On how it has taken me forever to be truly and completely comfortable with who I am and I wear it like armor. It cannot be used against me. When I am with a woman one day, you probably still won’t take it seriously. But it’s going to be my life.
You were so broken down. Tears. Pain. And I couldn’t cry of course. I can’t cry anymore. But even such a situation could not bring me to tears, just shock. Just severe flashbacks.
I feel like I could see the shattered glass. I believe I broke through. And what’s left now is a very bloodied me. The glass cut me. This will take time to recover from.
And it all may have been for nothing. But at least now I know. At least I got my final words.