Sometimes it’s hard to write.
To spill the words out.
Sometimes it’s too painful.
Too complicated a feeling to unravel.
Tag: Love
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It’s hard to put into words,
the sudden news
of accidents,
which lead to
an uncovering
of hidden illnesses.My grandfather
is in the hospital
after a fall.
They found some masses.Like an Magic 8 Ball,
“outlook not so good”And it all aches.
Because the world didn’t stop.I tried to slow it down,
but the earth kept spinning round
and gravity kept holding me down.
Time shrugged and went on its way,
like “well, what else would you want me to say?” -
I am feeling tender lately. Aimless. Reckless in my hesitation to evolve. It’s probably my deepest weakness. To wander without purpose, to play at lives I will never have. To wish for things I also regret ever wanting. That is, I’m sure, what others would say anyway.
I thought I had found it. I thought it was settled. I could do this life, in this way, forever. But then I remember…I’m a Gemini. It is in my nature to be impulsive and lose interest in things, seeking new and exciting adventures. I thrive best in the restlessness.
I dislike monotony. And the tepid reality of routine. It’s just so like me, to be dissatisfied.
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I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently. Not that that’s abnormal to be honest, but it’s felt more…impressive. Like I dropped anchor on your memory, maybe it wasn’t on purpose, but it happened all the same. So I’m exploring the intricacies of our story. I’m gently grazing, in search of sense. Maybe I’m also seeking forgiveness. I’m not sure yet.
I still have questions for you. Some that are fair, some that are probably not. I’ve found that I can’t trust my memory as much now. Moments are hazy. I’ve forgotten most of the things you said to me. Now I just have all these poems. But they feel different now too.
It’s all in abstract now. It’s just a feeling. But it’s not just a feeling. It never has been. It is the aching. Like waves against the shore. Ebbing and flowing. I wish sometimes it would stop. Sometimes I cling to it.
I think what I’m trying to say is. I miss you. And I wish I didn’t.
I miss you and I know it’s not enough.
Love, Me
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I boiled over today. Just a bit. Simmering over the edge into my deepest insecurities. The hard part of not disappointing yourself, is obviously, that you must disappoint others. And for the longest time, that, I could not abide.
I hate disappointing others. It has been an anchor of my identity for over 30 years. Don’t worry, it’s also why I’m in therapy.
So today it all came bubbling up. I fell apart, and kept falling apart, and kept falling. I realized, there is still shame in my brokenness. It’s not so much as before, but it’s still there. Which is why it has always been hard to ask for help. I’m supposed to be the helper. The healer. The fixer. The soother. So much so, that no one knows how to soothe me.
Today was different. I let myself cry for a bit. And then I sought connection. I demanded it. I asked for what I needed. And he showed up. It wasn’t perfect. But he showed up, and that’s a quiet magic. A moment of hope in the darkness of my mind. A glimmer of potential. I was brave and unapologetic. And I’m proud of myself for not shutting off, for not shoving down my feelings to serve another.
My therapist is gonna be so fucking proud of me.
It still fucking sucks. And I remind myself, it’s not the end of the world.
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Last session I told her I was finally ready to talk about my childhood. My family. My history.
This session, after the general updates, we dove in.
And I broke open.We talked about loneliness. We talked about coping mechanisms. We talk about feeling seen, and not. I realized I spent the majority of my adolescence telling myself I was fine being alone. Because that was what was expected of me. To fend for myself. It was okay if no one wanted to be with me. Extreme independence would save me from the ache of not belonging. I told people I was introverted. I loved being alone. But did I really? Was the core of who I think I am just develop out of survival mode? I didn’t want to be a burden. I never really felt like people wanted me. And it kept being confirmed as I went to college. I was second choice over and over again.
It still happens. And it hurts. But I tell myself to let it go. It’s fine. I’m fine on my own. I don’t need anyone. But then I turn resentful. To whom I’m not sure yet. Maybe me.
Something shifted inside me today. And I felt a little more free.
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Today is the first day of the rest of your life.
What if everything changes?
What if nothing does?Life is funny that way.
So mundane and yet so apocalyptic.
We uncover ourselves in the monotonous revealing of time.I’m finding it harder and harder to hold on,
to ignore the absurdity of existence.
How have I loved so many strangers,
and how can they mean everything and nothing to me at the same time?How does anyone do anything at all?
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The frustration is rooted
at the pit of my stomach.
The weight pools in me,
knowing there is a carelessness
in every touch.It rattles inside me,
the desperation to be seen.
To be loved. -
I think I loved you once.
Twice.Maybe every third day.
For years.Those last five minutes were
Everything.I think I loved you once.
A thousand times.Maybe I will again.
Maybe I will again.
Here. Soon. Please. 