Monologues

I was thinking…for me it’s better I don’t romanticize things as much anymore. I was suffering so much all the time. I still have lots of dreams, but they’re not in regard to my love life. It doesn’t make me sad, it’s just the way it is. That’s why I’m in a relationship with somebody who’s never around. Obviously, I can’t deal with the day to day life of a relationship. Yeah, we have, you know, this exciting time together and then he leaves, and I miss him, but at least I’m not dying inside. When someone is always around me, I’m like suffocating! I know I said that I need to love and be loved, but when I do it quickly makes me nauseous! It’s a disaster… I mean I’m really happy only when I’m on my own. Even being alone…it’s better than…sitting next to a lover and feeling lonely. It’s not so easy for me to be all romantic. You start off that way and after you’ve been screwed over a few times…you…you…you forget about all your delusional ideas and you just take what comes into your life. That’s not even true I haven’t been…screwed over, I’ve just had too many blah relationships. They weren’t mean, they cared for me, but… there was no real…connection or excitement. At least not from my side. You know…it’s not even that. I was…I was fine, until I read your fucking book! It stirred shit up, you know? It reminded me how genuinely romantic I was, how I had so much hope in things, and now it’s like…I don’t believe in anything that relates to love. I don’t feel things for people anymore. In a way…I put all my romanticism into that one night, and I was never able to feel all this again. Like…somehow this night took things away from me and…I expressed them to you, and you took them with you! It made me feel cold, like if love wasn’t for me! You know what? Reality and love are almost contradictory for me. It’s funny…every single of my ex’s…they’re now married! Men go out with me, we break up, and then they get married! And later they call me to thank me for teaching them what love is, and…and that I taught them to care and respect women! You know, I want to KILL them!! Why didn’t they ask ME to marry them? I would have said “No”, but at least they could have asked!! But it’s my fault, I know it’s my fault, because…I never felt it was the right man. Never! But what does it mean the right man? The love of your life? The concept is absurd; the idea that we can only be complete with another person is…EVIL!! RIGHT??!! You know, I guess I’ve been heartbroken too many times. And then I recovered. So now, you know, from the start I make no effort…because I know it’s not going to work out, I know it’s not going to work out.

It’s like I’m reading a book, and it’s a book I deeply love, but I’m reading it slowly now so the words are really far apart and the spaces between the words are almost infinite. I can still feel you and the words of our story, but it’s in this endless space between the words that I’m finding myself now. It’s a place that’s not of the physical world - it’s where everything else is that I didn’t even know existed. I love you so much, but this is where I am now. This is who I am now. And I need you to let me go. As much as I want to I can’t live in your book anymore. It’s hard to explain where I’m going, but if you ever get there, come find me. Nothing would ever pull us apart. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, now we know how.

When life is over it is like a flicker of bright film, an instant on the screen, all of its prejudices and passions condensed and illumined for an instant on space, and before you could cry out , “There was a happy day, there a bad one, there an evil face, there a good one,” the film burned to a cinder, the screen went dark.

Who is he?

He isn’t a big fan of poetry. Doesn’t read it. Doesn’t write it. If I asked him to list ten poets off the top of his head he would pause and likely go blank. This is new to me. I am so used to boys who categorize my work or make edits to my lines, especially the negative ones about them. He reads it. Simply reads it. Then kisses my head and says he likes it. He tells me, softly, that he is not a big fan of poetry. And yet his kisses taste more like poems than any others I’ve had.

Now that I live on my own I can smoke as many cigarettes as I please No one to complain of my ashy breath No one to ask me to shower off up my smoky skin I see a man smoking on the ledge of a safe house across from me I imagine him as my brother Shaved head Black clothes not fitting his body How I miss the things that I could once surround myself with easily Moving into a new city is a small victory that I do not ignore I only wish I could pack up the bits of personality I want to retain and move into a new self as easily

Do you ever like… do you ever just feel like, something’s not right?  Like… I’m not super smart, but I’m not super stupid either.  Like my boyfriends are on a two year rotation, like before Hector, there was Craig, like two years to the day he leaves for Alaska and like, why do hotel security guards have sub-machine guns? And like why did the cops just drop the whole thing so quickly?  I just feel like I’m missing something really big.

I had a dream about you today and my heart was fluttering and I felt the familiar warmth and comfort around my body again as you kissed and held me but when I woke up I remembered that you didn’t want me anymore and I was just a faded memory, a blurry image, some girl you used to give the world to.