frightened but still not entirely afraid

What if what if you saw the signs all along/ What if what if the sand on the shore left marks on the floor

tell me how to jump to a parallel universe/ this not how it is meant to be what we did seemed so real what if we went back again

what if what if/ laughs were made forever and smiles were permanent what if I never left would I still be here?

Tell me how to swim at sea/ these currents keep pushing me away I can feel you without touch does fire burn when you can't see the flames

1. Get back in shape and run a half marathon.

2. Récord a 10 song album by the end of the year.

3. Reconnect with old friends.

4. Be more present. Meditate 2 times a week.

5. Go to more concerts

6. Improve my fashion style

7. Spend less time watching TV

8. Drink less alcohol

Life moves so fast. I feel like I’m watching my life being lived by somebody else. 

I don’t recognize me. But he looks like me: Brown eyes. Brown skin. Crooked fingers. 

We play the same music. We sing the same songs. 

And it gets so loud in here. And I’m yelling at him. But it’s so loud in here. He can’t hear me. He won't. And I’m yelling. And they’re all smiling. And they stare at the fireworks and they laugh. But I’m yelling. They point to the sparks. It’s so loud. But they won’t hear me. 

Words. Touch. Emotions. 

Invisible wounds. Untouchable pain. The world feels heavier. How do you fix these wounds that have been hurting for so long? 

The words don’t work. They don’t come out of your mouth and you don’t want them to. You sing, though. But only you hear the song. Like a well kept secret, like a warm house; I see from the outside. 

What was real? I swear with all my senses I felt it. But it wasn’t there. What was it? I thought I was doing it the right way. 8 dates. 3 months. laughter. Sex. not real. 

Numb me. Make it all irrelevant with a keen skill of indifference. Let me lose focus, make it blurry and unsatisfying. The ground below my feet unsure. I’ve learned that pain is transitional. Active. Chronic. I’m but a mere conduit, a link to its never-ending journey. 

Numb me. Honestly, just for the sake of it. Just so I can justify all this. So I can justify you. Because I am doing the same, you know? It eases the pain, I get it. It’s part of the transition -- part of the trick. You told me it hurts and I didn’t listen because at the time nothing could. 

Numb me. In an instant. The pain tattooed you in my memory shaped like a sunset. Its colors red-blue; the ocean in violent agreement. No clouds. The clarity -- God’s little joke. I close my eyes and all I see is that sunset. 

I could feel the anticipation on my finger tips. They shiver almost uncontrollably. In desperation, I tightly grip my phone to diminish the trembling. My emotions could no longer be contained, desperately exiting into the physical world.

Seconds turn to hours. The smell of hops about the air as beer gushes from taps across the bar. I rehearse my lines. I rehearse hers. I fool myself to confidence. A second. Any minute now.

Beautiful, she was. Is. She stares. In her eyes I lose the words. The lines so thoroughly rehearsed were gone and I was left with instinct. My hands unsure of their position and utility. The trembling intensifies.

Contagious. The joy, the essence of happiness, all tangible. The smiles, the laughter, evidence of bliss. The silence uncomfortable, but necessary. Her touch warm and human.

And then a question. And I could sense the distance increasing between us. A wall a thousand feet tall. And her warmth transforms into a chill wind; light rain, clouds small gray.

Quietly, the knives piercing through. Gently, with utmost care. Numbed by beer, the pain delayed.

Is this where I learn?

To let go?

To feel the pain and let heal?

That one key doesn’t open all locks?

One-fourth of me. Undivided; still, incomplete. I am harassed by who I could be. Or should be. 

Things change, but, at their core, they are still exactly the same. The places change, the people around me change. Yet, the insufficiency of it all now so familiar as ever. Have I not improved, but also not worsened? The balance of it all. The feeling of stagnation so ubiquitous. To argue with the self, who is then proven wrong or right? How to hold such conflicting thoughts without the dissonance of emotions? 

I hear the music, every day, stuck in my head. And when I reach for the instrument my fingers cannot translate that which my head hears. I mutter words and thoughts that pen to paper seem never destined to capture. My body starves for food, but my soul rejects it. A contradiction fiercely bound to be quietly misunderstood. 

I’m not sure what time it was. But I am sure it was some time past midnight. If I am completely honest, it all happened by accident. It was unexpected. As most good things usually are. Maybe that is why I can’t stop thinking about it. There was something different about the night: the shittiest DJ in town was surprisingly good, the beer I chose at random from the menu was surprisingly good, and everyone seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood.

She was laughing and smiling and laughing. I could hear her from where I was standing a couple feet away. My drunk friends were joking and messing around, and I nodded to prove I was listening to what they were saying. But I wasn’t. Part of it was because I had a decent buzz going on, but mostly I was just too busy paying attention to the way she laughed. I see good looking girls all the time, I thought to myself. There was nothing to suspect this time would be different; yet, this time it definitely was.

I was introduced in arguably the most awkward way possible. My friend, who was more or less about to black out, introduced me as her single friend, who lives in San Francisco, and is desperate to find a girlfriend. I was fucking embarrassed, irritated. If I could have snapped my fingers and at that moment appear in my bed under my blankets, I would’ve done so in a heartbeat. Of course, that wasn’t an option. So my dumbfuck self said, “nice to meet you, future girlfriend.” What the fuck. Who says that? That is the corniest, dumbest shit I could have said. And yet, I said it like a well rehearsed line.

And she laughed. And I couldn’t believe it. And so we talked. And it was the easiest thing to do. And we talked some more. And we laughed. And she smiled. And I smiled. And I loved that she traveled. And I asked about the food in Campeche. And I was surprised she didn’t like the people in Guanajuato. And it wasn’t easy to kiss her while she was talking.