from the ground up

A.
things that do not work eventually shake themselves to an end. premeditated, sudden, belabored, abrupt, conscious, un, consequential, and not. there are pieces to retrieve, breaks and contours to smooth and reform. decimation can be beautiful.

B.
two and a half years. maybe a shade less. remember the two-ish months spent "apart" but "apart" is relative because there were phone calls, text messages, letters and notes. promises. pleads. forgiveness and still a shimmer of animosity threading through my being. i know hurt when it drapes itself over me.

C.
and the miles follow me, still. up and down the east coast. where was home? not even my heart ever knew.

D.
the thing is: i always loved you. i fell hard and fast, and we dove into each other with such tremulous passion- you would have thought, anyone would, that there had never been a love so great. but what was great was sickened with a deteriorating disease. and i never knew because love is blind and i can't see for shit anyway.

E.
clearly.

F.
you told me (i remember this day clearly: bravo and usa, park slope, trouble) that you would never do what she had done to me. but you lied. what you did was worse. you knew you were falling apart and you were too selfish to let me go.

G.
and you told me the other night that i was weak for staying with you, weak for loving you through all of that mind-bending-landmine bipolar s&m, weak for hoping and persisting. somehow, i'd thought i was consistent and steady, stable. that's what you want, you know. the very things i am: that is what you want, and you sucked the fucking life out from every conceivable pore of my body but you don't understand-- you didn't kill me.

H.
i am still breathing.

I.
you told me you blamed me for us falling apart, and you just had to put your foot down because you were "losing [your] mind" because i didn't know where i wanted to be next year. this is the second time you've blamed me for losing your mind. remember that time, of course you do, that you called me and ripped me apart for everything you'd always said didn't bother you-- and then i told you i couldn't do this anymore (there was nothing left to give, nothing more to do), and weeks later, you told me you stopped taking your medication because it had wiped out your sex drive, and you didn't want me to complain about not having sex anymore. see that, how you did that? how you always manage to shift the blame onto me because you can't bear to acknowledge or accept your contribution to the colossal amounts of manipulative, hypocritical bullshit that toured us through over two years of what someone may have mistakenly called a relationship?

J.
two days after you blamed me, last week, you started text messaging me. because you know the longer you wait, the stronger i get, the less chance you have of worming back in. the last message you sent me, from thursday afternoon: you have my heart and i hope you know that.

K.
i could have said: "you made it quite clear you don't want to be with me, so why leave your heart with me? obviously i will mistreat it and you will blame me, more, for things that are not my fault." or: "you broke my heart and i hope you know that." or: "fuck off." or: "AND?" or: "take it the fuck back."

L.
i didn't respond.

M.
don't get me wrong: there was beauty between us. there was a connection that wouldn't be ignored, no matter the physical distance, or the emotional (most of the time; i've never mastered the art of dating a self-absorbed robot). there was love there. and i was happy when i knew i had nothing to worry about.

N.
maybe that wasn't often enough. there were other people (and you went back and forth with your understanding of this-- what you said the other night suggests that you're aware they played a part in the downfall of us, but somehow we still see this in completely different ways). there was the distance- which you said was one of the best parts of our relationship (i usually hated it), but suddenly you couldn't handle it. literally overnight: you couldn't handle the distance. there were technicalities, there were personal misfires, there was the simple reality of not having common ground.

O.
the thing is, i miss the fact that i don't have someone. you were never (hardly ever) here, and there was a low emptiness rotting in my stomach because i lived an entirely independent life but had a girlfriend. i understand long distance, but i don't understand being pushed away and shut out so you could, essentially, test the waters-- both of my willingness to stay (weakness, you'd now call it) and your ability or lack thereof to turn off the switch for loving me.

P.
i don't know how you feel now. and i don't know what you're doing. i wish i could stop caring.

Q.
the mania is running from my life, and it's startling to realize that i'm still here. without the chaos, i'm whole. complete. i didn't, and don't, need you. and if this is how you choose to live your life (no forward progress, stagnancy, far-fetched visions of reality, perhaps unknowingly comparing my commitment to shades of bizarro-land around you, on and off of medication, not knowing how to ask for help, wanting someone to be with you to take care of you): i am so not the girl you wanted me to be.

R.
years move on and i don’t deny / the choice i made or your reasons why / but this cluttered heart is the tie that binds / me to the broken new york skyline / we might have had the right idea / but it never got off the ground / we were so close, we were there almost / now I can barely hear the sound / the sun is high, we walk slow / you’ve gone ahead, i’m flying solo / what i crave I would never show / on your birthday one new york ago