remember this

Three Christmases. Two victimized by the relationship, one tormented by its aftermath. Three Christmases burdended by unnecessary tears. Three should-be-happy seasons crushed under the blow of mania and push and pull, a plauging uncertainty and continued hope for the better: the better that showed its head every few weeks but never stayed for more than two consecutive days. It's not your fault, and it's not mine. It's just who you are. I simply wish you would have warned me earlier, or never saw my name, or that I could have been stronger and less tolerant, that I would have understand the weight of what you couldn't allow our love to be. And I wish I'd known earlier the art of walking away.

I bought a card for myself once, a Quotable, because I like reminders that keep me centered. You thought this was silly. But you didn't use that word. You probably said stupid, or laughed and rolled your eyes, but not in a "Oh, I love you and you're cute but weird" kind of way, but something far less endearing. Or maybe this was early in our relationship and you did think it was stupid but cute. I can't remember. It doesn't matter.

One of my friends bought me this for Christmas. It's the quote from the card that I bought for myself however long ago. And when she gave it to me, she didn't know I'd bought the card (and currently don't know where it is, when, of course, I absolutely need to remind myself of those quoted thoughts). But she knew it was something I needed to remember.

What I'm realizing now, in this once-strong, suddenly-and-obnoxiously-weakened state of the break-up, is that you couldn't get out of your head for long enough to really know me. I think you tried, but you failed. I admire your attempt, but I think you could have tried harder. I think you could have done a lot of things differently between you and me, and I'm slowly coming to accept the fact that you didn't, you wouldn't, you won't, and that's how it's supposed to be. I don't wish you any harm, but I don't yet wish you happiness because you crawled into my life with the allure of connection and desire, neither of which could sustain us, but once in, you shrieked apart my reason and my happiness. It was always about you. I get that, now. It was never about me. My needs were nonexistent. I bent into yet-discovered yoga poses to try to make us work, but I failed. I wasn't meant to succeed. Not with you.

So I'm tired of the hurt and the anger, tired of your unjustified reactions and skewed perceptions. I shouldn't expect anything different since that's how it always was: no steady ground. A rock one day, a roll the next, a plateau silver-lining into a brick wall the very next. I want you to understand this: you did this. You did it. I was not the perfect girlfriend, but I never pushed you away with the force and frequency that you did me. Remember that.

truth can get away from us / and all over town

Survival techniques: Think less, move more, DREAM BIG.

I think I've fallen into a trap of disillusionment, where I happily stumble through Thought Patterns that aren't going to get me anywhere because, yeah, pretty sure I gave up on self-fulfilling prophecies. Because the manifestation of my mind's whims and snowstorms arrives when I least expect it so that eliminates the fun factor of predicting my own destiny. Or whatever.

Met GC this past weekend for a necessary catch up session. I also just had a random bloody nose and have blood on my thumbnail, but ok. The talk was good, except GC thinks I have to start pushing forward in a direction that I'm moderately terrified to move into. "Moderately terrified" meaning that of course I want to go there, but A) I don't know how to start, and B) the threat of rejection/problems/complications/reality/mutual feelings scares me. In a good way. Good fear, healthy fear.

I gave my ex a ringtone this morning because as much as I'd like to give her MUTE for a ringtone, I'm just not there yet, which drives me a little crazy, but we all go through these things differently. So I at least want to know if I should bother looking at my Blackberry to see if it's a call I might want to answer. It's usually not. I realized that the only calls I consistently answer are from my mom. I should give my mom a ringtone and put everyone else on MUTE.

Life is pretty much freaking me out: possibility, conflict, the Great Perhaps, whatever love may be, and if I'll ever find out, etc etc. This is the first time, post any break-up, that I've felt myself feel fear about finding someone else. I'm sure it has to do with age, the length of my latest relationship, and the things that were said in that relationship. Words are cheap, though. I'm learning that. Finally, but it's contradictory for me, as a "writer." The concrete image of a word can be cheap, but the velocity behind it is never without cost.

I have to go wash my bloody thumbnail. And wrap presents. And get on with my life.

sound mechanics

So much of who I am and what I've experienced is built around music.

Last week, she said she'd look them up, I said that's ridiculous how about I make you a cd of their music, she said absolutely and i'll find something for you. So I did. And she is.

Tonight, I'm caught up in not wanting to go to sleep. I'm stuck in the fluctuation of semi-flirtation and the collapsing of my still aching heart. I've been sifting thru my iTunes, pulling together a cd for A.M. and tossing songs into a playlist called 1_. I have a feeling I'll be making Her another cd, since this last one was business. & "business" has changed... which at first I was so not happy about, but now, I almost fully believe it's better this way.

I talked to my ex tonight. First time in, oh, a week. As much as I've been trying to avoid/cut off communication with her, she keeps worming in for various reasons. Wait, I lied. I talked to her earlier this week, and it was not pleasant. Tonight was only better in the sense that we weren't yelling at each other. Tonight made me cry. It was a closing of a door, her doing, despite her saying that she loves me very much and she's sorry for everything that's happened, and that she'll never love anyone like she loved me, and there's no one else, and she doesn't want to give her heart to anyone else. I'm not stupid; I know what happens when people move on. She caught me off guard with all of this, and she's Leaving, she said. For an indefinite period of time, to an indefinite place. If we were still together, she said, This Wouldn't Be Happening. This was a rift in our relationship; I never understood this part of her life. I still don't, but I don't have to try anymore. I cried tonight, though, because it was a bigger goodbye than we've ever had previously. And I'm going back and forth between believing her, and wondering if she did this/said this to get me to move on because she's moving on. I suspect the former, actually. It hurt. The whole thing hurt. And even if it is the latter, I really don't want to know, just as she said that she wouldn't write to me because she doesn't want to hear about me moving on.

I don't know what to make of that. Now I really can't wait to leave tomorrow. I have a weekend chock full of people who love me and who can set my head back where it's supposed to be.

All this, and She still swarms over me. Things have only intensified, in a sense, over the past month. She keeps me on my toes in a healthy way, which is a nice change. I'd swear she's flirting with me, but there is the gray area between "straight" women and gay women: sometimes the hets think flirting is safe. I don't necessarily think that She has absolutely no idea that I'm totally into her, but I doubt she comprehends the extent (and length) of my ... into-ness. She doesn't need to know as far as I'm concerned. I'm cool with this friends thing. The flirting, though? I'm not the only person who sees it. And that makes me wonder.

The songs I've thrown into 1_ are some of my favorites, songs I always try to pass onto whomever comes into my life. I've noticed myself being careful, though, because as much as I would love to stack this compilation with subliminal messages, I know better [looking at circumstances, mainly hers, as mine are open aside from my healing heart] than to test my limits like that. Cool & calm. Constant reminder.

I was going somewhere else with this, but I'm tired and lost it.

tipping (edited.)

you have no idea,
but i fucking adore you.
this little competitive thing? only increases the desire.
i was told today that
i light up when i talk about you,
that my eyes get wide, my smile glows.
i'd be lying if i said i didn't know
what that means.
but-- i don't know how you've managed to get so far
under my skin. i thought i had boundaries, i thought
i still had walls. you're in (and i don't know how)
but you don't know (and i don't know how).

catch and fall (edited.)

It's a new month. I desperately need a new perspective.

/ I see nothing but wonderful things here; intellectual equal, anyone?
/ no clear sign of interest other than prolonged stares, especially those of the "You're not talking directly to me, but I'm going to watch you very carefully while you do talk, or listen, or do other things unrelated to me."

:: But, in truth-- I miss her. I don't want to miss her. I don't want to love her any longer, and I would much prefer to NOT feel like I'm regressing as far as this stages of grieving bullshit-mess goes, but truth: I wanted to spend today lying in my bed, crying. Because I somehow have tears left over from Saturday night's salt-drenched outpouring. In a king-sized bed, 5-star hotel, nonetheless. Because of text messages. Mixed signals. Uncertainty. A clever trick. Because goodbye has still been muted beneath outlying context of We Still Love, and We Still Want, but Neither of Us is Going to Outright Give In. Or Make a Move. (I don't know that there's a move to make.)


:: And yet, the entire time we were together, I suffered the crush of intrigue. Outside of us. I must have known better than to focus all of my energy on a suffering craft.

:: The hurt can end now. I'm ready to break free. Into what, onto whom, I don't know, but that doesn't matter. I reach a certain point, post break-up, where I'm able to distract myself with someone else, but I'm not there yet. I don't know when I'll be there. I figure it has to happen eventually.

18

The problem, unstated till now, is how
to live in a damaged body
in a world where pain is meant to be gagged
uncured un-grieved-over The problem is
to connect, without hysterica, the pain
of any one's body with the pain of the body's world
For it is the body's world
they are trying to destroy forever
The best world is the body's world
filled with creatures filled with dread
misshapen so yet the best we have
our raft among the abstract worlds
and how I longed to live on this earth
walking her boundaries never counting the cost


Adrienne Rich, from "Contradictions: Tracking Poems"

because i told you so

i came home with tears slicing my cheeks
and hugged my cat because i'd just left 4
of my friends at the bar. the beer had long ago
worn off, the happy-snapped buzz whittled from me
thanks to time and food and a healthy reminder
of the fact that i have to go to a fucking wedding in 3 days
and i am totally, completely, single.

which, whatever, i don't care about getting married
so to speak.
it's more the idea that i don't have anyone. and when that happens
for the first stark time in 2.5 years
it more than hurts.
so whining aside, i'm fucking sad.
and i'm tired of it.

so i'll focus on the good: i'll think about how i saw Her
twice today. and the first time she stared at me
and the second time, much longer, there was more staring
and one or two maybe even three looks
that weren't just, you know, looks.
and maybe i'm living in a pipe dream
but these little bits will get me through.

something has to. i don't want to cry in bed (again) tonight.
and i don't want to give in.
but i sincerely, truly, really do not want to feel this way any longer.

mixed nausea

every time we talk: i ended up feeling like shit.
but that should come as no surprise, because truthfully
that happened a lot
when we were together. so why would it be any different
now.

you were crying on the phone, and my heart disappeared
from my chest- gone somewhere less familiar, somewhere less
flimsy. i don't even know what you wanted to know
but you were looking for an answer, and i gave you one,
but it wasn't the one you wanted.
because i think you wanted us to work this out.
to be together again.
but i can't even count how many times you've chosen to
break up with me
rather than have an adult conversation with me about whatever
little issue is currently plaguing us. i deserve better than that--
i deserve steadier footing.

i just wish that meant that i could
stop loving you and
stop missing you because you asked
and i answered, in truth. there isn't a lie to tell.
you told me that you picked up and left
and shut your ex out, that you didn't listen to her
when she was fighting for you.
and you wanted to make sure you weren't doing that to me: and you
aren't. but you did run.
it was different, but you ran.

i still don't know what you want(ed).
& i may never know if this could work because
circumstance/distance decimated our weakest spots.
we were too far, never close enough, but saddled down
with a love that didn't want to quit.
it still hasn't quit.
it's just fucked up beyond repair.
i think.

no, what i think is:
you have gone back and forth with me FAR TOO MUCH
and you say you broke up with me because you had to
put your foot down, you had to make a decision to move forward,
and fuck you because that's all i ever tried to do.
i can't handle the see-saw.
i get nauseous too easily.
if i could throw this up to get it out of my sick body,
i wish i would.

the realm of confliction

In one corner: My Best Friend's Wedding
is sizzling across my inherited widescreen tv.
I can't help but to watch even having seen the film
more than twice, at least.
And from the other room: shuffle, from "Edge of Seventeen"
straight into "Real." Appropros, you see, because I've started realizing
I don't know what real is, and by real,
I mean love.
Nearly 3 years in an unstable, unhealthy, unrealistic relationship
does amazingly awful things to your psyche.

I've been told over and over again
to cease all communication, but I unblocked her
and I wrote a three sentence response to a video
she forwarded me earlier this week.
I haven't sacked up the guts
to unfriend on Facebook, but maybe tomorrow.
Or the next day.

I woke up this morning fresh from a dream about her/
us. In it, I'd driven to see her, a surprise, and she had a cake
on her bed, and we made love, no,
we almost fucked,
right on the cake. I took red icing on my finger
and smeared it onto her nipple, my mouth followed
mixing saliva with tenderness and confusion and
red icing. But we stopped, despite her being
spread before me, my mouth already dancing
between her weeping thighs. We stood up
and walked away. And then I found a poster,
a card, in the bottom of her closet, and I kept smacking
the backs of her bare knees, caught between fury
and despair. She told her dad we were back together,
but I was already finding a way to leave. He was happy.
She didn't seem it. I just wanted to go.

When I woke up, I didn't know what the fuck to make of that
except for the reality of it: wanting to go, not knowing how,
hanging on, the obvious connection that always managed to break
itself.
And I had two missed calls this morning, one voicemail
that I later realized was unintentional. Both times she called
she must have known I wouldn't answer, and the voicemail
was long and obviously not meant to be left, as it was choked
with white noise and a cough. I think I just listened
to her falling asleep.

A familiar sound, as I was always awake
when she wasn't.

I don't know why she called.
And there's a good possibility that I don't want to know why she called,
either.
What I do know is this: I keep trying to let go
and I haven't lost my footing yet, but the trail is steep.


In another room, there have been comments
and brief messages, texts and otherwise.
Hardcore nerd flirting, I've been told. I'm a little dense,
though, and I don't know if She realizes that she is,
in fact, and truly finally sort of I think,
flirting.
And how I want that door to creak open.