The ach in my hands is as great as it has been since the cortisone shots, but it is so overwhelmingly diminished by the pain in my heart. The childishness of my situation is disgraceful. Why did I memorize his face? Why did I take such meticulous care to learn exactly how every muscle moved to create every emotion I have seen him carry? Why did I take the effort to learn every single way of detecting what emotion I could wring out of him, even if he didn’t want me to be aware of it, sitting in the car or wherever we were. Why is it that my heart has found a hold so great in this one that it can’t be shaken, that it draws me further and further into remorse at the fact that he is happy. Like a drug, the more I got the more I needed. I have never felt this much hurt radiating from the fact of a specific person, let alone feel this way when I feel such pride for him. I mean, seriously the joy in his voice when he imparted upon me his new relationship status with the girl he’s been striving to be worthy of. To know I was the first to be told. To know that I hold a part of him and he willingly gave it to me because he didn’t want me hurt. To know all of these things, to be called Beautiful and to be told that if someone denies that fact that they are not worth my time and I will be happy. He knows I will be happy. How is it that with all of this there is an undercutting darkness that makes every moment bleak if I forget to shut it in? My Sunbeams, the six little rays of light in my week, little 3 and 4 year olds at church; I was happy this morning, watching them, knowing that even while they were misbehaving there was such a pure innocence in them. I was reading yesterday night, with a 2 year old lying atop me, pointing at the colors on the poke-dotted pillow calling out their names with a tired but anxious voice. Looking at me for assurance every time. That’s the only pure joy I can feel anymore. It is the only time that the name does not hurt, that the memories are kept at bay. You would think with all of my distress that this was more than just a friendship that I have had since October of last year. That’s the moment it clicked, the moment I knew that I needed to get in as much time as possible with the kid. I’ve never felt that compulsion before. I have never felt that pure need to maintain a friendship and learn as much as I could as fast as I could. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t know he wouldn’t be around forever. My heart knew it the moment I he touched my leg to show me the placement of a muscle. It tears me to pieces that I can remember the touch, the angles, and the sheer magnitude of his presence. I do him no justice when I say that he has a charisma that entices me every time he so much as enters a room. Example I was in the hall waiting for class people going in and out and I hear footsteps. Immediately without a doubt I looked up thinking ‘that sounds like Him but it’s not because he is still at the library.’ I was wrong. It was him. I took no notice of anyone else; I looked up occasionally as a few people entered and exited, but more for relief to my brain from studying, not because I thought it was him. THE SOUND OF THE FOOTSTEPS! Alas, as I have decided from having small sections of my broken soul handed to me from close friends, I deserve better than second, I deserve to wait. I know this with what’s left of my heart. However, my mind won’t shut up. I am purposefully seeking out distractions, going so far as to put myself in harm’s way, which for me and the examples is huge; most people would look at me and laugh. However, my close friends who know me would shake their head in defeat, one of which I am sure will read this. The others, I’m good enough at hiding this from and they don’t even know. AHH! I can hear his voice in my head. NO! I am NOT Beautiful! I am twisted and distorted, dark, ominous thoughts encompass my very being when I am left alone. I use my friends, all of them, they are my crutch, and I use their conversations as vantage points in developing the complex workings of my outer appearances. I lied on the phone the other day. Yes I am coping, no I am not fine. No I am not dealing. I knew from the very moment I brought him home that I wouldn’t have him to keep and I tried desperately to put him away, I tried with a passion to not let him know how I feel, I tried to make him think I was never going to be anything more than a friend. Because I won’t, I can’t. It is impossible. I have not the capabilities for it. I am sorry. I am terribly sorry. I should have listened, accepted the first fight with myself and let it drop. I should have lost my hold when I understood and would escape safe.
SAVE ME!
That’s my plea, however I will not call it to you, for it would destroy me to take what you want from you. Stupid fears, stupid feelings, stupid me. Everyone leaves me, in one way or another. Every friend I have has disappeared and with his flight down to see her I have officially lost every hold on people near me. Many of them left from my own will, others left unknowing that I believe that it happened, I see pain in one’s eyes, I haven’t touched another in over two years, the mental connection is strong, but it’s not what I need, it’s just enough to keep me alive. Thank you dearly. Others are gone or I have changed while they were away just enough for them to not recognize my insides anymore enough to call me out. I know I am being watched over, but I can’t seem to go towards the warmth of the becoming. I keep piling things against me. Even when I don’t something happens. Like today I was all happiness and sunshine after church, bringing joy to others is where I find mine, and I can only bring the pure kind to the children, they are my safeguard against complete and total destruction. Anyways, when I got home I was fine… then whoosh boom, exhaustion and the need to sleep and never wake, so I read to pass the time, a couple hundred pages from one o’clock to 9 and I am still not quenched. I go to stand and I get this overwhelming sense of agony and a memory of an occurrence while I was reading “Ivy, I think mom misses Him more than you do, she just made a comment about it and sighed” I smile weakly and say, over my book and from the tangle of blankets on my floor, “I doubt that but she can think so” and the echo of my own voice in my head feels like a needle to a balloon tight with the pressure of the air within it. CANT I JUST PICK ONE OF THE EMOTIONS I FEEL????? I just want to feel the happiness for him. I don’t blame Him for my sadness, it’s my own situation that has me in such remorse, and he’s just the poor victim that caused the onslaught. He was a friend, he is a friend. Our relationship hasn’t changed, as far as I am aware, but to have the pure knowledge that his face moves in this delicate way, and the impossible lightness he gets when she calls and how everything is dropped to make sure she has what she needs is the most… most, Beautifully cryptic thing in my life. I would lie if I said that I didn’t know this would happen. I would lie if I said it wasn’t worth it. I would have lied if I said that I think this is the most ridiculous thing in yet to occur to me. I would lie if I said I did not wish I was her. I would lie if I said that I won’t fall into the next arms that so much as marginally open to me even if I know without a doubt that I am putting myself in yet another dangerous situation such as my first boyfriend. I would lie if I said I don’t welcome that pure adultery to my soul as punishment for this nonexistent plague I feel I have given myself.
I would lie if I said that I would take my own life, however it would also be a lie if I said I wouldn’t welcome it if it came on its own.
Yes Yy, I wish I was a Lemming.
1 comment:
Sounds like you need a constant.
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