I’ll probably do that weird ankle popping thing when we hug, and I’ll most definitely talk too much and too loud. I leave fairy lights up year round and I hate wearing shoes. Disney movies make me cry, and I always have a song to sing. I’m too opinionated and really nerdy but I can quote things on command and I make damn good vegetarian food. I cuss too much when I play Mario Kart and am deathly afraid of chickens. But I promise to make you laugh until your sides ache if you promise to be the words that I write. Love, Me
boy with the prismatic eyes,
This could be my Waterloo, my Gettysburg. You are the only one who makes my skin feel like skin and my thoughts lucid. There is no way for us to continue being players in some transparent game of second guesses and mixed signals. We’re already standing in a minefield, we might as well pull the pin and see what we explode.
fish out of water, growing lungs
This is me screaming out to you at the top of my lungs knowing you can’t hear me from a thousand miles away but wishing you could know that it’s you, it’s always been you, and I need you with me more than ever because I feel like I’m alone and dying and with you I feel so different and alive and right and please need me as much as I need you because though I’m accustomed to rejection it still stings like the first time.
I like you a little too much after too little time but I think it might be because being with you makes hours seem like minutes and months seem like days and I need you to stay with me because without you time is too slow and too much to handle alone because the clock hands become daggers and I think I love you more than I can bear
I think I love you, but I can’t love you because you’re too good for me even though you make my life feel like a life again and hold my name in your mouth like a drink of expensive chardonnay it doesn’t matter because it will forever be unrequited, a disaster of Pompeian proportions-unless…unless it works. If it works there’s a chance of a future outside of this, a wonderful serendipity of a romance that works against all odds but yet
I am afraid that someone like you cannot love a train wreck like me, even if train wrecks always make the headlines.
The day you went away, I caught a chronic case of everything. Migraines, but instead of auras, it was flashes of you-the first night we met, when you first said my name, when you whispered I’m sorry. Hypersensitivity, but only with things that reminded me of you-Jeff Buckley, striped shirts, candles that smell like sandalwood and vanilla. A horrible, wheezing cough that only struck when people said your name, or told me they loved me. Fevers that would not leave, even after cold showers, even after eating ice, even after calling you. It was graft-versus-host: you gave me back my life before you, and my body screamed against it, rejected the very thought of it. The day you left, I caught a chronic case of not having you.
So it’s back.
I can’t exactly define for you what ‘it’ is, but if I had to try, I’d call it a cycle of unprovoked moods that linger like a cold you can’t shake.
I feel like there’s no happy medium. It’s either I’m high off of life, or I’m just simply being, like a helium balloon two days after the party.
The latter is the worst. There are weeks where,other than going to school and work, I won’t leave my house. I won’t do anything, really. The only thing I can do is to tell myself that I’m not worth it, I’m not enough, I’m not anything. I’m numb.
The other is almost as bad, but more socially acceptable, so to speak. Then, it’s cartwheels down hallways and run-on sentences and unbridled energy and two pots of coffee shakes and hysterical laughter at children’s cartoons and 3AM bathroom concerts and
When I reach what feels like solid ground, I clean up my collateral damage, and prepare myself for the next bend in the road.
I’m moving on.
I’ve said that a thousand times, but it always fails and I find myself in the same exact position as before: you hinting that you want it to happen and me doing anything to make you happy because you’re like a brother and a best friend and everything that’s good for me and everything that’s bad for me and exactly what I need in a boy sized package.
I am in love with the concept that ‘we’ will never be something we reach. ‘Together’ is just a thing we want to be, but never can achieve. I need you just as much as I need to forget how much I need you.
When you touched me, I burned, the place on my arm memorializing the moment.It was crying out for you to stop but your hand was gone only I felt it still like lye like salt on an open wound.
You were talking then but I didn’t hear you I heard hissing heard flat-lining heard siren call. You smiled like a church bell (beautifully mournful) and I saw your hand plucking heartstrings like rose petals (I love you I love you still I have to I’m sorry) suffocating memories futures wilting like flowers in the shade. I turned away.
When I touched you, you died.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to simply be with him. To lie in the hollows of his cheeks and drown myself in the scent of his soap. To watch as our shadows twist and turn and walk at the bottom of his ocean of sorrows. To call him mine, if only for that instant. But time…time rises and falls with the tides, taking victims in its wake. We are the unfortunate few.
