Index - Profile - Archives - Notes - DiaryLand - Random ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- We never see things changing, we only see them ending. The phone rang 5 minutes later, and I had hopes of the tide changing. But I knew better and braced myself for no knock on my door telling me so. No knock came. I went so far as asking him to tell me he didn't love me any more. And, asking him to say he didn't miss me any more. But he insisted he couldn't lie to me. And I act as though that would have mended a little bit of me, but it can't. Nothing can fix not having another chance after someone tells you you fucked up. Against all advice, it's over. I pushed it today, and maybe I regret it a little bit because I can't see a day on my calendar when I'll feel better. It's been a long time since I've felt like ending my life. I know I can't, but it doesn't erase the want that is always waiting for me on the other side of every hope I've ever had. I always just want someone to hold me and tell me everything is alright. I've tried to keep my expectations low for years so that this hurt couldn't creep up on me again. I earned the title of girlfriend at the end of what would have been my relationship, and now I can't say boyfriend, but I get to say ex. Is it always too much to ask? Do I really always ask for so much that everyone feels like they can't deliver? And, I can't think about never ever seeing you again. I can't. I type that sentence and they just well up again. I want you to be happy with this choice, or be just as miserable as me. I want to see your tears shead, I want to see your eyes swollen and your life dashed. I want you to sit in your room and cry, the only understanding company your cat. I want everyone to tell you, "I told you so" when you try to explain to them how much you hurt. And everyone around you can say "Fuck women. They're awful." while you think in the back of your head, "Not her. She wasn't awful." But I want to see these things and hear them and know them, because it seems like this is effortless for you. It seems as though you are unscathed and unhurt and able to carry on your life, while I'm sitting here wondering if I'm going to make it into work on Monday or how I'm ever, ever going to let someone into my heart again. Goddamnit. This wasn't like every other relationship I've had. You had that thing about you, the thing I have, I know you have it. Because on the night of our 6 hour phone call, you explained what music was to you, and I muffled the phone over my tears because it's how I feel about painting. And we had that. That, the unexplainable tie between two people that allows them to carry on in their own world while everyone else goes rushing by. In very nearly 27 years, that's the first time. The first time I didn't care about how I looked naked because you could see right through me. For three days you looked right into me, and everything was a release and finally the world was an okay place to exist. And I felt safe. I'll never get a birthday present, and I'll never hear the song that was for me. I'll never get to do so many things, and it's just not fucking fair. And I'm sick of life not being fucking fair. I hate that I'm supposed to not talk to you. I want to be on the phone and cry, and I want you to tell me everything is going to be okay. All of these things are more important than your reasons. All of them. Just, when you think of me, remember the girl you met at the airport that asked you just to hold on for a little while. Remember my face in the shower. And remember my voice in the kitchen, in the morning singing Jeff Buckley. Remember you've never seen me truly happy. You've never seen me well adjusted and comfortable. You never knew me with my head on right, and my heart hidden away. Remember I've never lied to you. Remember no one can take this place you've left vacant. Please remember I always wanted the movie. I always wished that during your absence you were secretly on your way here. Also, remember I always wanted a better life for you. And for me. I always believed you would make it. Your smile, and even the thought of your smile could make me feel one hundred times better. I love you. I promise that after tomorrow I'll make an effort to stop writing about this. Even I'm tired of it. 8:37 p.m. - 2003-04-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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