back and forth

I feel like I need to write something, but I'm not sure how or what needs to be said. Today I feel stupid and agitated. I want to talk to you, but I'm not sure if I know who you are. I don't know if I miss you. Sometimes I feel like I am going crazy because of how much I miss you and other times I feel like I am going crazy because I don't miss you at all. I think you said it best that one afternoon laying on your bed; that I hope with a little piece of me that you are it, but that I also know with another piece of me that you are not.

I don't know what I feel, which is terrifying because you are the one that doesn't know how you feel. I know I could be happy with you and that is all I know. I guess the rest doesn't matter. I know that I wish you were the one talking to me instead of other girls who have no idea who I am. I know that my hand hurts like I punched something, but I don't remember that happening. My back hurts from sleeping weird and my head hurts from bad decisions. I know I liked who I was when I woke up next to you. I know I feel better about my life when I am with you.

Sometimes I think about all the plans I had in my head with you. Plans of things we would do together. It still feels like I was just there, at your house. It has only been a few weeks. Sometimes I think you are trying not to hurt me because you don't care and sometimes I think maybe you care a lot more than you want to admit. I don't know anymore. I don't feel as broken this time and that makes me think maybe I didn't care as much as I thought. Or maybe I am not broken because it hasn't been enough time. This is the first time I wasn't the one to walk out and maybe that is easier, to be mad. Last night I ate chips in my bed and I felt amazing that I didn't have you. This morning I looked at the crumbs in my bed and missed you terribly. I don't know what this is or what it was. My confusion is the most confusing part.

Building

You say you think it is interesting that every chapter of my book leads to who I am today. That the chapters are written chronologically and they flow together. I lay in your bed looking at the sun slanting through the slats of the shade. Maybe you are right, maybe I have taken the time to reflect and edit the previous chapters, so that my book makes sense and I am whole. I can almost hear your brain ticking and I can feel your ribs protect your heart. You have cut the chapters out of your book and hidden them like horcruxes with different people and things. I'm glad that I feel whole and that I don't feel broken anymore.

This year was better than last year. I left someone sobbing on the floor and I decided to take care of myself. I surrounded myself with people who were good for me and I listened to my heart. I flew across the country and spent my evenings outside with smoking wood and crisp air. I edited chapters that I had left flawed. I came back to the humid sunsets and blazing pavement with fresh air in my lungs. I have taken small creatures under my wings and taught them little things. Sometimes, they have taught me little things.

I have taken my love and put it to use in places that I control. I have found my differences and put them on my sleeve and I have learned to forgive my heart for being hurt. When my voice warbles or my head is heavy from stupidity, I can run until things heal and mend. My limbs can carry me through the tunnel and my heart will pump my blood to my freezing extremities. I am not where I thought I would be, but maybe that is fine. Maybe, I am supposed to do it in a different way.

i'm still here, I'm still here

here I am. now. another year spent with hope and casual effort disguised to look like indifference. if I didnt put everything into my dreams I will not have failed per se. in all actuality I am fairly young, but in terms of when my career should have begun I have snowballed into complete failure. my self after school was so determined and hopeful. I knew if I just worked harder I would be offered the perfect job. I vacuumed and sang, I cooked while stretching, and I acted while on the subway. now I do karaoke to remind myself that I have a voice somewhere under everything. I used to have so much hope and that has been burried in an attempt to squash disappointment, but without hope I am nothing. I dont even know who I am supposed to be because i thought I was going to be the girl who never gave up. I haven't given up, but I have buried myself so deeply under everything that I have no idea who I am anymore.

I am four years past that girl who wrote about hairspray.

Different places

I read what I wrote and a giggle. The same way I laugh at how naive I was when I wrote about that girl in middle school, I wonder at my ignorance last year. I was so alone and I felt betrayed and lost, those feelings I mistook for something else. I am glad you held your ground because I would be so miserable right now if you had agreed with me.

Now I am better and I am whole. I have even loved and lost within that time. Not quite the same, but not so different. Something new. We have our own ways of doing things and our own little sayings. We have our places that we go and our names for each other. We fight in different ways and also love. I want her in different ways than wanted you.

It is hard to let go of things when one doesn't think anything else will come along, but something does and without letting go, life would stay stagnant. Life is made up by a series of events and relationships that shape us into the human beings we are. It is important to absorb every second and continue to walk forward.

I miss feeling like you understood me and wanted me. For some reason I felt pretty and smart when we were together. I never knew quite what I was allowed to talk about or when I was allowed to interrupt you, but maybe I liked it that way. Maybe I like that I think you are too smart for me, which I am finding a rare thing these days. I am not always good at numbers or words, but I can't stand people who aren't aware and most people aren't. I hate people who don't dissect society. I hate people who say mean things out of ignorance.

I had a dream last night that I went to visit you and you were living in a room with four other people who were not happy I was visiting. I asked you why you were there and you said "I am paying six hundred dollars" and I said "You are living in a room with four other people and several more in the next room, that isn't actually a good deal." But you seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable.

I was out last night and hanging out with a group that usually includes you. I hadn't realized the hole until I was there and you weren't. I just miss having your giant brain and skinny limbs around.

reflection

I look in the mirror a lot and I am not sure who the girl in front of me is. I don't know what makes me unique or special or attractive. I have to write a cabaret about my life and my goals and then I think why does anyone care? Who will show up to listen to my stories. I am the same as the next girl on the subway or in the cross walk. I wonder why someone so smart would like me. I try so hard to be smart when I am average. I try so hard to cover up the blemishes on my face. I want so much to be someone special. I hate watching everyone else. When will someone watch me? I am so twisted and lost that I have no idea who I am anymore. I have a whole life of memories in my head. I have looked through the same pair of eyes for 23 years, but I still feel blank. I guess I know I am different from other people, but I don't know why anyone would love me.

When does this feeling end?

I told you to choose and you did. It hurts me so much to think back to the time we cuddled in the sunlight and you told me I was the one. Now that I am thinking you might be the one, you want someone else. It makes me feel like everything we had was ordinary. It was to you, I guess. I am replaceable obviously. But I don't take these things lightly, nor do I throw my feelings onto someone. You are my drug and it takes every inch of my being not to call you right now. I can't stand the thought of never having you again. I know I didn't always want you when I had you, but I needed time to realize what you actually meant to me. Everyone else is tired of me talking about you. It seems like this happens to everyone and you move on after time, but I don't really want to move on. The fact you don't want me anymore should tell me that we can't be together, but it just hurts. I thought that you still wanted me, but you don't. I have been living in some alternate universe and all of a sudden I am having to face reality. I really thought you would choose me, but you didn't. You just used me and left me the minute she called. How long do break-ups usually take because I feel like I should be better now. You moved on, so why can't I?