What I wouldn't give to go back, ten, thirteen, fifteen years, maybe.
To wake up and sit cross-legged in a chair, centrally located in Grandma's kitchen, eating the special kind of cereal that only she would buy for me, cinnamon and sugar sprinkling down the front of my pajamas as I chatter. Now that I'm older, my heart falls a little when I am awakened with a cup of coffee, and asked to join the adults at their table instead. I long for the little girl in pigtails who was the apple of her Grandma's eye.
It seems that time goes by slower than the hours on a watched clock, until one day, life has catapulted itself into the future, and you seem to be recalling fond memories at a steady pace.
On this land, the swing is still held in place by a now-frayed rope, and you can still walk the paths to the lake, picking up colored rocks and putting them gingerly in your pocket. When you were little, being in this place was like being at the biggest, most extravagant playground that was specially handcrafted for you and your tiny hands and feet. Shoes were optional, there were always sticks of strawberry gum in the drawer, and you felt a sense of contentment that only you were privy to. There were no boundaries and no trepidation. At the days end, you were allowed in the lavishly decorated front room, minding that you took off your shoes, to curl up with a book and bask in the glow from the open windows catching moonlight.
Too me, not crying is that feeling you get when you swallow water.
In retrospect, these memories are not a sad thing, but more like an overpowering sense of gratitude that this is all still a part of your life, if even from a different point of view. Strangely, at 26, I am still a child in her eyes, but equally an adult. I often consider that the changes in me perhaps bring tears to my Grandma's eyes as she watches me walk the path alone.
It stings, it suffocates, but it passes in due time.
I will still throw caution to the wind, and run across the narrow bridge to the island on the lake, and laugh and stumble over the bowed planks. I will stand ankle deep in grass, causing stirred bugs to swarm around me in droves, and fish through the tall marsh for frogs, and count the fireflies at night. I will gently rearrange the refrigerator magnets, and then put them back in the same order they have always been...for the past 26 years. It amazes me that time has not altered much here, except for the people who live, pass through, and always return.
I will always be mesmerized by this place and the peace it has brought me.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
how to say goodbye
I know we always start out this way, but some things never change.
"So I'll cross my heart
And hope to die
Before I have a chance to lie
To you my dear
Oh I wish no harm
I know the end will turn out wrong
See I've been known to fall in love
But sometimes love just is not enough
My heart will stray
Before too long
So please listen when I sing this song
I sing this song"
-Cross My Heart by City and Colour
We are coming to a definite end.
I am so emotionally overwhelmed all the time, it always takes my breath away when I manage to discount some part of my life--especially some incredibly emotional part. Maybe I'll call it self defense, and you'll call it lack of a heart that beats on a normal basis, but either way, I don't think about you unless I have to.
Turns out, today, I was forced to. Think about you, that is.
Not so much forced as hung upside by one leg over a pit of venomous snakes and threatened to face up or be released to fall to my certain demise. But don't get to thinking you have the upper hand. I just hate snakes a whole lot more than I do your face...er, our issue. The problem. A catastrophe. Our marriage.
Where do you start this? Hey, it's been swell...thanks for the memories...you know, we're better off this way, and any other euphemism that may be conjured up. I'm not positive I could say anything, well, positive about the situation. We are better off, at least I know I am. But as far as the memories are concerned I say to hell with the majority of them.
I'll admit that I miss a constant presence in my life. How we never had toilet paper, how I could never cook bacon the right way, movie dates and pushing the couches together to snuggle. I miss the freedom of walking around in my underwear, football Sundays, music nights, trips to the coast and the few moments where we actually allowed ourselves to laugh together. For a brief flash of time, you and I, we were unstoppable, baby. But we hit a wall.
Quite frankly, you built a void that made it impossible to ever cross back over to you. I stood opposite the great divide for years, screaming my lungs out to get your attention. I knew that finally, when I was hanging perilously over the edge to get to you, it was time to give up. I did. I crawled back up from the danger, bruised and a little broken, but discovered the world I had left behind on the other side of the canyon. And boy, was it a long haul. I'm back, with a vengeance.
If nothing else, you taught me that being true to myself is one of the most valuable assets I have in life.
I don't regret anything, because I believe in my heart of hearts that no matter what path we had eventually decided to take, it would have inevitably ended up at the same point: a dead end.
I wish you the best, through gritted teeth, partially because I know it's the proper thing to do and partially because I've given up on hating you. I'm not a victim, and I played a part in the demise, but I can move on knowing that the final decision was mine and mine alone, and be extraordinarily grateful that I had the will and strength to say: enough.
I'll wonder still, once the papers are finally signed and there is no longer any need for contact. I'll wonder what you're doing, and maybe sometimes question your livelihood. But I won't miss you. I haven't for a very long time.
I miss the cat. Feed him everyday, and tell him you love him.
This is the start of goodbye. It's only right we do it this way, without words, or gestures.
I send this off into the great unknown void, with a small wave and a tiny smile.
"So I'll cross my heart
And hope to die
Before I have a chance to lie
To you my dear
Oh I wish no harm
I know the end will turn out wrong
See I've been known to fall in love
But sometimes love just is not enough
My heart will stray
Before too long
So please listen when I sing this song
I sing this song"
-Cross My Heart by City and Colour
We are coming to a definite end.
I am so emotionally overwhelmed all the time, it always takes my breath away when I manage to discount some part of my life--especially some incredibly emotional part. Maybe I'll call it self defense, and you'll call it lack of a heart that beats on a normal basis, but either way, I don't think about you unless I have to.
Turns out, today, I was forced to. Think about you, that is.
Not so much forced as hung upside by one leg over a pit of venomous snakes and threatened to face up or be released to fall to my certain demise. But don't get to thinking you have the upper hand. I just hate snakes a whole lot more than I do your face...er, our issue. The problem. A catastrophe. Our marriage.
Where do you start this? Hey, it's been swell...thanks for the memories...you know, we're better off this way, and any other euphemism that may be conjured up. I'm not positive I could say anything, well, positive about the situation. We are better off, at least I know I am. But as far as the memories are concerned I say to hell with the majority of them.
I'll admit that I miss a constant presence in my life. How we never had toilet paper, how I could never cook bacon the right way, movie dates and pushing the couches together to snuggle. I miss the freedom of walking around in my underwear, football Sundays, music nights, trips to the coast and the few moments where we actually allowed ourselves to laugh together. For a brief flash of time, you and I, we were unstoppable, baby. But we hit a wall.
Quite frankly, you built a void that made it impossible to ever cross back over to you. I stood opposite the great divide for years, screaming my lungs out to get your attention. I knew that finally, when I was hanging perilously over the edge to get to you, it was time to give up. I did. I crawled back up from the danger, bruised and a little broken, but discovered the world I had left behind on the other side of the canyon. And boy, was it a long haul. I'm back, with a vengeance.
If nothing else, you taught me that being true to myself is one of the most valuable assets I have in life.
I don't regret anything, because I believe in my heart of hearts that no matter what path we had eventually decided to take, it would have inevitably ended up at the same point: a dead end.
I wish you the best, through gritted teeth, partially because I know it's the proper thing to do and partially because I've given up on hating you. I'm not a victim, and I played a part in the demise, but I can move on knowing that the final decision was mine and mine alone, and be extraordinarily grateful that I had the will and strength to say: enough.
I'll wonder still, once the papers are finally signed and there is no longer any need for contact. I'll wonder what you're doing, and maybe sometimes question your livelihood. But I won't miss you. I haven't for a very long time.
I miss the cat. Feed him everyday, and tell him you love him.
This is the start of goodbye. It's only right we do it this way, without words, or gestures.
I send this off into the great unknown void, with a small wave and a tiny smile.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Unread Letter
I simply have to spit it out. In some form. Mind you there will be rambling involved, but please let me get through this the only way I know how. Now, listen up...
I don't think that I'm stupid. I have a pretty good head on my shoulders and a normal grasp on how humans interact. I've been evaluating this mess, and I'm fairly confident when I say I don't think I'm far off the mark on how I feel. Call it intuition, call it overanalyzation, either way, hear me out.
Yeah, firstly, fine, I'll admit--up until recently, I've been pretty jaded when it comes to relationships, if not completely bitter and blinded by my past experiences with men. But I've changed a lot in the past year, hell, year and a half, and I've come to some solid conclusions. The past 6 months have sprouted intense changes in my self as a whole person again.
I know you get this. You're coming out of a semi-crazy relationship as well, and even if it wasn't a marriage like mine, you have deep hesitation…you've expressed this to me, and I mean, I get it. I see it in your eyes sometimes. I also see how you look at me, and a wanting of some sort. I know this, because I look at you the same way, even when you're not looking. Excuse the poet in me, but putting it other words, "I seen you, looking at me, looking at you…and damn baby, you fine!" is not as eloquent.
I don't know what kind of relationship I'm looking for, if any. But I think I'd be ready if the right person came along. I am ready to at least attempt to care about someone again, even though the thought is terrifying. I want to like you, and I want you to let me like you. I want you to like me back, does this all make sense? Demands, demands, now I'm being a typical woman. But hold on...
I guess maybe I read you wrong. I know that initially we agreed that we were friends with benefits. And at the time, I was totally fine with that. I had been seeing several guys when we started hanging out in "that way" so I was really unsure of what I was doing--all I knew was I was being crazy and having fun. I never have experienced freedom like that. It's been a blast, I'll admit. I feel joyful and wanted and amazingly beautiful for once since I've been separated from Eric. We have hung out a little more, and you know, I dig you. We were friends first, for years now and I suppose you might say I always had a little "crush" on you, but I'm not that girl. I'll never lay down who I am as a person for a man. I don't need you to want me. I want you to.
I don't obsess, I won't cry, I won't beg or ask you why you don't like me if you simply don't. But I know you do. In fact, you're the first guy in a long time that I know has interest in me. I think you're quality. Sure, you're inevitably screwed up in some ways even more so than I am, but I get where you're coming from. I feel you, holmes.
You want independence and you're afraid someone will wreck that for you--you don't want to be controlled. Neither do I, not for an instant. Sweet baby Jay-sus, protect the man who tries to run my life; it will only end in broken limbs. Never again.
You make me laugh, always and without fail. You think that I'm hilarious, and I love when you call because sometimes, I swear it's just to hear my latest story. I don't get nervous around you, and I have no shyness or inhibitions.
There are the little things too: we like the same cars, the same music, we like the same movies. You like to be outdoors; you are the first guy I've dated who shares these things with me. I'm not saying we're a perfect match. I'm just saying I like your company. I want more of it. Life is short, I only invest in good company. I wouldn't say all this if I wasn't afraid of losing you in my world altogether, if even as just a friend.
I have stupid hair, I drink too much, I refuse to share the covers, I'll make a fool of myself in front of anyone, I'm a terrible dancer, I smoke a pack a day and laugh too loudly, I'm terrible at fishing and hiking and I couldn't set up a tent to save my life. My car is always dirty, I swear, I like to fight dirty with strangers, I wear flip flops until it absolutely is snowing like crazy, I like to make a scene…but I'm genuine.
I'm pretty. I'll bring you a beer in the middle of a video game, and hang out with your mom when she's lonely. I'd make you breakfast in bed, and steal your t-shirts to wear around the house so you can admire my legs. I'll make you feel like the man of the house, I'll like your friends and they'll obviously like me. I'll learn to shoot a gun, and I'll always have a hard time resisting you in every way. I'll give you your space, and respect you.
This is just who I am.
I guess what I'm saying is that I'm awesome. You'd really be missing out, and I'm starting to feel that stupid girlish desperation that if I don't advertise myself to you, you'll miss out on me. I have a hard time going unnoticed. It's frustrating, and makes me want to rip my hair out, flail about wildly, and stand in front of your house on an overturned milk crate, listing my qualities off one by one.
If even I don't disclose all these little things to you, the blatant things that are in front of you are screaming at you to give me a chance. Take a risk. I shouldn't have to put up a billboard describing why you should like me. I shouldn't have to write a letter. I shouldn't have to convince you. You. Should. Already. Know.
Man up, peabody, shape up or ship out. I'm not going to wait for you realize how fantastic of a girl I am. Someone will, and I don't brag, I just know I'm worth it. And this girl, who's worth it, thinks you're worth it.
Check, check, microphone, this is your wake up call, cowboy. The train leaves soon…so are you in or out?
I don't think that I'm stupid. I have a pretty good head on my shoulders and a normal grasp on how humans interact. I've been evaluating this mess, and I'm fairly confident when I say I don't think I'm far off the mark on how I feel. Call it intuition, call it overanalyzation, either way, hear me out.
Yeah, firstly, fine, I'll admit--up until recently, I've been pretty jaded when it comes to relationships, if not completely bitter and blinded by my past experiences with men. But I've changed a lot in the past year, hell, year and a half, and I've come to some solid conclusions. The past 6 months have sprouted intense changes in my self as a whole person again.
I know you get this. You're coming out of a semi-crazy relationship as well, and even if it wasn't a marriage like mine, you have deep hesitation…you've expressed this to me, and I mean, I get it. I see it in your eyes sometimes. I also see how you look at me, and a wanting of some sort. I know this, because I look at you the same way, even when you're not looking. Excuse the poet in me, but putting it other words, "I seen you, looking at me, looking at you…and damn baby, you fine!" is not as eloquent.
I don't know what kind of relationship I'm looking for, if any. But I think I'd be ready if the right person came along. I am ready to at least attempt to care about someone again, even though the thought is terrifying. I want to like you, and I want you to let me like you. I want you to like me back, does this all make sense? Demands, demands, now I'm being a typical woman. But hold on...
I guess maybe I read you wrong. I know that initially we agreed that we were friends with benefits. And at the time, I was totally fine with that. I had been seeing several guys when we started hanging out in "that way" so I was really unsure of what I was doing--all I knew was I was being crazy and having fun. I never have experienced freedom like that. It's been a blast, I'll admit. I feel joyful and wanted and amazingly beautiful for once since I've been separated from Eric. We have hung out a little more, and you know, I dig you. We were friends first, for years now and I suppose you might say I always had a little "crush" on you, but I'm not that girl. I'll never lay down who I am as a person for a man. I don't need you to want me. I want you to.
I don't obsess, I won't cry, I won't beg or ask you why you don't like me if you simply don't. But I know you do. In fact, you're the first guy in a long time that I know has interest in me. I think you're quality. Sure, you're inevitably screwed up in some ways even more so than I am, but I get where you're coming from. I feel you, holmes.
You want independence and you're afraid someone will wreck that for you--you don't want to be controlled. Neither do I, not for an instant. Sweet baby Jay-sus, protect the man who tries to run my life; it will only end in broken limbs. Never again.
You make me laugh, always and without fail. You think that I'm hilarious, and I love when you call because sometimes, I swear it's just to hear my latest story. I don't get nervous around you, and I have no shyness or inhibitions.
There are the little things too: we like the same cars, the same music, we like the same movies. You like to be outdoors; you are the first guy I've dated who shares these things with me. I'm not saying we're a perfect match. I'm just saying I like your company. I want more of it. Life is short, I only invest in good company. I wouldn't say all this if I wasn't afraid of losing you in my world altogether, if even as just a friend.
I have stupid hair, I drink too much, I refuse to share the covers, I'll make a fool of myself in front of anyone, I'm a terrible dancer, I smoke a pack a day and laugh too loudly, I'm terrible at fishing and hiking and I couldn't set up a tent to save my life. My car is always dirty, I swear, I like to fight dirty with strangers, I wear flip flops until it absolutely is snowing like crazy, I like to make a scene…but I'm genuine.
I'm pretty. I'll bring you a beer in the middle of a video game, and hang out with your mom when she's lonely. I'd make you breakfast in bed, and steal your t-shirts to wear around the house so you can admire my legs. I'll make you feel like the man of the house, I'll like your friends and they'll obviously like me. I'll learn to shoot a gun, and I'll always have a hard time resisting you in every way. I'll give you your space, and respect you.
This is just who I am.
I guess what I'm saying is that I'm awesome. You'd really be missing out, and I'm starting to feel that stupid girlish desperation that if I don't advertise myself to you, you'll miss out on me. I have a hard time going unnoticed. It's frustrating, and makes me want to rip my hair out, flail about wildly, and stand in front of your house on an overturned milk crate, listing my qualities off one by one.
If even I don't disclose all these little things to you, the blatant things that are in front of you are screaming at you to give me a chance. Take a risk. I shouldn't have to put up a billboard describing why you should like me. I shouldn't have to write a letter. I shouldn't have to convince you. You. Should. Already. Know.
Man up, peabody, shape up or ship out. I'm not going to wait for you realize how fantastic of a girl I am. Someone will, and I don't brag, I just know I'm worth it. And this girl, who's worth it, thinks you're worth it.
Check, check, microphone, this is your wake up call, cowboy. The train leaves soon…so are you in or out?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Like Fire
I almost started reading a book for you. Just so I could say that I read it.
Maybe I thought it'd make me seem more attractive to you?
This is after watching that stupid movie about the stupid book you said make you cry. I hated it. But I lied and said it touched my heart. So sue me.
I guess I'm no better than you. Except for my amazing taste in the arts. Note: Impress girls in the future with other films that make you appear less like an overly emotional woman.
I'm smarter than you. How to do you crawl under my skin and ruin my day? I don't want to read your books, or hear about your music. Also, if you shave your head again, I simply won't be able to look you in the eyes. Or anywhere else for that matter.
Don't tell me you'll stay in the morning.
P.S. I'm going to read that book just to prove you wrong.
And you know how much I love to read.
Maybe I thought it'd make me seem more attractive to you?
This is after watching that stupid movie about the stupid book you said make you cry. I hated it. But I lied and said it touched my heart. So sue me.
I guess I'm no better than you. Except for my amazing taste in the arts. Note: Impress girls in the future with other films that make you appear less like an overly emotional woman.
I'm smarter than you. How to do you crawl under my skin and ruin my day? I don't want to read your books, or hear about your music. Also, if you shave your head again, I simply won't be able to look you in the eyes. Or anywhere else for that matter.
Don't tell me you'll stay in the morning.
P.S. I'm going to read that book just to prove you wrong.
And you know how much I love to read.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
I think I might know...
"Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes..."
I see this today on my computer screen...some sort of cosmic sign or irony jabbing me playfully in the side? Either way, I take it to heart on a fall day, while I'm Sunday driving and contemplating the right words to say.
I don't know where to start, and I'll admit that's new for me. I'm pretty famous for my rambling and my innate ability to go off on tangents endlessly. All I really know at this moment, is how glad I am you can't read this.
I haven't felt this way in a very long time. I know, everyone says this, and if you were reading, I would wager a bet that you'd be rolling your eyes. "Great opener", you'd certainly think, and cross your arms defensively over your chest. "And?", you'd prompt me, light up a cigarette, lean back on the bench and then tilt your head back gently. I'm wringing my hands at the mere thought.
You make me comfortable. We have been friends for a little while now, I say little, because in the great scope of all eternity, 3 years is little. I ramble some more, I talk about how funny I am, and try to make a joke. You laugh, but I can tell you're waiting for me to get to the goddamn point. So I do.
I think you're hilarious. When I'm around you, I know I can be myself completely. Yeah, I worry about how my hair looks, and if my eyelashes are curled up nice, but I don't concern myself with the small details, like, what I say coming out wrong. My opinions are expressed freely, and my jokes are never missed by you. We laugh, a lot. I like that. We have so much in common, and it keeps floating to the surface. You are a breath of fresh air in my life.
These things are not as important as what I am about to say. When I'm near you, I don't have to drink. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. I don't have to be loosened up to look you in the eyes. After all I've been through, it's nice to not have to rely on liquid courage. You think I'm being funny, but I'm not. Hey, buddy, we both know I can swill a beer quicker than any man boasts he can...I'm 26 and I enjoy my freedom. What I'm saying is that I don't have to. You may not understand this fully, but grasp onto to this if nothing else: You put me at ease.
Now it's my turn to light up a smoke, in this pretend conversation we're having. By now, you're looking at me differently. I know, I know, I said I was the girl who didn't care. The girl who wanted to sleep with you, the insensitive badass who swears like a sea captain and doesn't give a damn if her jeans have holes, and I made you believe it all too. In a way, I am that girl. My heart, however, harbors a secret tenderness and I hate to admit, a flimsy protective layer that's easily broken. I am a conundrum. Get used to it.
Take a chance on me. This is all I'm asking. Hell, it's scary, trust me. Right now I could vomit at the thought of another relationship gone sour. But if I don't take a chance, I'll never know.
I want adventure with you. Coast trips and late night walks, fishing adventures, scary movies, dinner dates and all of the above. I didn't think it was possible, but I believe I am ready. We could paint the town red...and laugh the whole way.
If you're not ready, I'll understand. Truthfully, I will. But I have learned to speak the truth, even if my voice shakes.
So I am waiting. I'm going to turn my back now, and walk inside. You can think for a minute. If I come back, and you're gone, I'll still wish you well and thank you sincerely for opening my eyes, and being a good friend who MADE me realize how valuable I am again.
Thanks.
(Secretly I'm hyperventilating and crossing my fingers, watching out for black cats that cross my path, and diligently reading my horoscope. But on the outside, I lift my eyes to the sunset, and breathe the crisp air. I don't care...I'm an excellent actress, if the world only realized, I'd be filthy rich.)
I see this today on my computer screen...some sort of cosmic sign or irony jabbing me playfully in the side? Either way, I take it to heart on a fall day, while I'm Sunday driving and contemplating the right words to say.
I don't know where to start, and I'll admit that's new for me. I'm pretty famous for my rambling and my innate ability to go off on tangents endlessly. All I really know at this moment, is how glad I am you can't read this.
I haven't felt this way in a very long time. I know, everyone says this, and if you were reading, I would wager a bet that you'd be rolling your eyes. "Great opener", you'd certainly think, and cross your arms defensively over your chest. "And?", you'd prompt me, light up a cigarette, lean back on the bench and then tilt your head back gently. I'm wringing my hands at the mere thought.
You make me comfortable. We have been friends for a little while now, I say little, because in the great scope of all eternity, 3 years is little. I ramble some more, I talk about how funny I am, and try to make a joke. You laugh, but I can tell you're waiting for me to get to the goddamn point. So I do.
I think you're hilarious. When I'm around you, I know I can be myself completely. Yeah, I worry about how my hair looks, and if my eyelashes are curled up nice, but I don't concern myself with the small details, like, what I say coming out wrong. My opinions are expressed freely, and my jokes are never missed by you. We laugh, a lot. I like that. We have so much in common, and it keeps floating to the surface. You are a breath of fresh air in my life.
These things are not as important as what I am about to say. When I'm near you, I don't have to drink. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do. I don't have to be loosened up to look you in the eyes. After all I've been through, it's nice to not have to rely on liquid courage. You think I'm being funny, but I'm not. Hey, buddy, we both know I can swill a beer quicker than any man boasts he can...I'm 26 and I enjoy my freedom. What I'm saying is that I don't have to. You may not understand this fully, but grasp onto to this if nothing else: You put me at ease.
Now it's my turn to light up a smoke, in this pretend conversation we're having. By now, you're looking at me differently. I know, I know, I said I was the girl who didn't care. The girl who wanted to sleep with you, the insensitive badass who swears like a sea captain and doesn't give a damn if her jeans have holes, and I made you believe it all too. In a way, I am that girl. My heart, however, harbors a secret tenderness and I hate to admit, a flimsy protective layer that's easily broken. I am a conundrum. Get used to it.
Take a chance on me. This is all I'm asking. Hell, it's scary, trust me. Right now I could vomit at the thought of another relationship gone sour. But if I don't take a chance, I'll never know.
I want adventure with you. Coast trips and late night walks, fishing adventures, scary movies, dinner dates and all of the above. I didn't think it was possible, but I believe I am ready. We could paint the town red...and laugh the whole way.
If you're not ready, I'll understand. Truthfully, I will. But I have learned to speak the truth, even if my voice shakes.
So I am waiting. I'm going to turn my back now, and walk inside. You can think for a minute. If I come back, and you're gone, I'll still wish you well and thank you sincerely for opening my eyes, and being a good friend who MADE me realize how valuable I am again.
Thanks.
(Secretly I'm hyperventilating and crossing my fingers, watching out for black cats that cross my path, and diligently reading my horoscope. But on the outside, I lift my eyes to the sunset, and breathe the crisp air. I don't care...I'm an excellent actress, if the world only realized, I'd be filthy rich.)
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