//catie

it’s fucking frigid here.

i’m stuck in my room because of course i am, and it’s a decision between opening the window and being able to breathe in the literal snowflakes that grace my bedframes, or slamming it shut and suffocating with the laundry that i haven’t done.

i open the window and i pull on your sweater. it’s the purple one, and arguably it’s not even yours -- notionally i bought it for you but you never wore it because i just took it home.

home?

i took it to my room with me... i put it in my closet, folded up next to my 2021 semi dress that never saw the light of day, next that fur scarf i bought that day on queen street, next to my harvard acceptance letter:

jk.

anyways.

so the sweater. it's in my room, your sweater, it's in my space, it's in my closet, but... it's not my home?

my home isn't this cold. the air in my home isn't stale, my home isn't permeated by the sounds of yelling voices and the garbage truck down the street.

you can't hear the noises over the sound of music in my home, over the blaring music in my head and through my speakers. you can't taste the air in my home because it smells of fucking flowers and shit.

it's not cold in my home.

1. You laugh with him.

He will start to laugh, but you will know he’s never laughing at you. You will giggle at his dirty jokes, and his musical laugh will chime out in harmony with yours.

2. He makes you feel like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

A smile will light up your whole face because you know that you are his only one, and you know that to him, you are beautiful.

3. He remembers the important things.

He will be listening to you -- actually listening -- and you will know because if anything you mention then comes up again he will remember that you told him about it. You will ask him for little things, things that make you feel happy and safe and comfortable, and he will text you every morning when he wakes up. 

4. He makes you happy.

Your whole essence will light up when you think of him, and the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest will not go away. You can sit next to him even without saying anything, and simply his being there will make your heart smile.

5. He’s always on your mind.

Thoughts that are not of him would be a rare commodity if they were not simply useless. He weaves his way into your soul so much that you cannot go through a day without at least seventeen things reminding you of him. And this is okay.

6. He supports you unconditionally.

There will be no ifs in anything he does for you. He will always be yours and he will always be there to catch you, no matter what has gone wrong, for he will be unending and he will be always.

7. He’ll try anything for you.

He will want you to be happy and feel good, and so he will be open to anything that would make this easier to come by. You will ask him to go to concerts of music he has never heard with you and go out on the water in the dead of winter, and he will not hesitate for a second.

8. You are comfortable with him.

You will be yourself and no one else, for you will know that he will love you all the same. He will know you and your flaws and he will accept them all as a part of the person you are, and you will thank him for it.

9. You love him.

And you will just know. 

I MISS YOU.

I scream it out into the distance and I whisper it into my knees as I rock softly at night. You were a piece of my heart that just chipped off. I am angry at your absence, I'm not quite sure what to do with myself, I don't know whether to hide under the covers and bury myself from the world or keep myself busy to the point of combustion. I never realised how much I needed you until you were gone. I took you for granted and now look where I am.

When I think about how things used to be before you disappeared -- BEFORE YOU LEFT ME -- I get a lump in my throat as I can't swallow, as I am unable to breathe, as I have forgotten what it's like without this unwelcome feeling, and then all of a sudden the tears come streaming down my face, not only because I know you're not here but because I REMEMBER the happy times and know they are never to be had again.

I will sit here. In silence. Thinking of how much you mean to me. Thinking of how much I loved you, thinking of how you have GONE.

Somehow it seems fine to accept that what has happened isn't real and that it is all just a dream, that someday soon, I will wake up and you will be right by my side once again. But there we go again, I am gasping for breath, I can’t BREATHE I CANT BREATHE. And it’s YOUR fault. Its your fault you’re gone youleftyouleftmeyouleftme--

I know you will always watch over me. I know you would be proud that I have moved on with my life. I know you would cheer as I get stronger as the days go on.

You left me, but I will live my life for you.

 I will live my life for me, for one day that when I take that last breath…

I’m looking out my window. Not the most romantic view, certainly, featuring the cracked bricks of the neighbor’s walls and with twisted lengths of ivy obscuring the pavement below, but it’s okay -- I can see the stars. I begin to count them. 

One, because you are the only one who makes me feel this way.

Two, because of how we are simply two hearts intertwined into one, a pulsing light and warmth.

Three, for the third of April -- and suddenly the sky seems to spin as that night hits me in full force. 

The gentle thud of your heart fills my ears as my head lays on your chest. My eyes are shut but you are looking at the stars. It’s a gorgeous night, and though the frost nips at my ears I am not cold. My breathing falls into time with you, my chest rising and falling to mirror yours. For once, I’m not afraid of anything. The universe could have anything at all in store for either of us, as individuals or as a pair, but I am certain that we can take it. And besides, I do have a backup plan: I will just live forever in this moment. You drag your fingers along my shoulder, further down my arm, and I imagine sparks like those in the sky flying in its trail. Your hand creeps lower towards my waist and--

I squeal and twist away from you, but your hands are on my arms and you’re holding me still, laughing at me. Laughing with me, I suppose you’d say. I try and squirm out of your grip but it’s no use, and you begin to pull me closer. Turning my head sharply to the side, I try in vain to avoid the inevitable but your lips find mine and your hand cups the back of my head and suddenly I don’t actually mind. You’re so mean to me, I say softly as you pull away. I lean in for another kiss, but cheekily break it off just after it starts. You gape for a moment, looking a little bit like a fish, and now it’s my turn to laugh at you -- but I’m cut short as you turn your body over mine and pin me roughly to the grass. I swear I actually see sparks this time, their brilliance shining through my firmly shut eyes. I gasp for breath as you pull away. I want to stay here with you forever, you tell me, as your arms wrap around me, pinning mine to my sides. I pull one hand free simply to entangle it again in your hair as you nestle your head on my chest. My breathing softens and my eyes grow heavy. I love you, I whisper, and just before I drift off into sleep I could swear I see you glow.

I burst out laughing at the shocked look on your face -- even without gloves, I’m pretty decent at snowballs. Before you can react I’m up on my feet, kicking my boots free of the snowbank and ready to make a run for it (while you were sleeping this morning I made a significant collection of projectiles as well as a pretty structurally sound snow fort, and it’s just behind the first line of trees). You stand to follow me, smiling too, as I turn and make for the forest, but my boots are heavy and my toes keep catching in the snow. I haven’t made much headway when I trip over one of my laces -- classic -- and land with a squeal solidly in the snow. It’s slipping down the front of my jacket and I’m about to call for a truce when you slide down and wrap your arms about me. Mmmph! I mumble into the snow and you let me turn over, still holding me tight. My nose is red and my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I look at you and pull you close to me. You win, I whisper into your ear, and bite you gently. You don’t respond except to squeeze your arms tighter, and I tuck my head into your neck. I don’t know how long we stay like this, but eventually even you are cold to the touch. I kiss you softly and you help me up. We begin our walk back to the house, and before long we find ourselves at the door. I’m not great with keys, so you open the door for me and I shed my jacket and boots by the entrance. I’m leaning over to hang up my jacket when I find myself quite literally swept off my feet. You’re mine, you whisper to me, and you pull me tight. I don’t wonder for a second where you’re taking me, and when we finally get there, I wrap my arms around your neck and just kiss you. You set me down and I pull you on top of me, and softly say into your chest:

I wrote you six letters, and kept them all.

Here’s the thing with words, though, the sneaky little bastards: once they’re out you can’t keep track of them.

      catching ants in a glass - you can put them in but as soon as you look away to gather up the rest they’ve crawled out and snuck away, and they’ve left

     trailing letters as they slip into your sugar, honey and your head and now

     you just can’t forget anymore

     what you should have said

           ‘you’, ‘me’, ‘us’

My words and my words and my words, little words like ‘hey’ or ‘tonight’ or ‘cute’

     or big words like ‘meaning’ and ‘love’

           ‘stay’

     I had locked them in a cage in the back of my mind

     each word stiff, dead, and freshly greyed, locked away...

     but yesterday i caved and let them out and wrote them down and they weren’t sneaking around but crashing and crashing, wave after wave and they’ve flooded my head and my room in a raging storm,

           unstoppable torrent of ‘you’, ‘me’, ‘stay’

-- and this time, unlike the other times

     i’m not sure i can

     drag this tired body back to the shore,

     or that it is worth the trouble.

     tumbling pushed and pulled and praying

     to some unknown god that the words don’t break me on the rocks, to be splattered into a salty spray of ‘you’

           ‘me’

                 ‘please’

     but you’re not here to whisper into my shredded lungs anymore

Your words and your words and your words, little words like ‘later’ or ‘calm down’ or ‘blame’

     or big words like ‘guilt’ and ‘bitch’

           ‘i’m busy tonight’

                 ‘her’

     my hands are over my ears like yours are over my eyes,

     your smoke wrapped around my mind like i was around your little finger

           until you pulled your trigger.

crashing down in a cacophony of curdelled emotions and kamikaze connections, each sound you pronounced pierced through my self-imposed cage and snapped me into a reality i wanted nothing to do with

     a reality that was sunk in the back of my mind and the pit in my stomach

           a reality where each word you say leaves me black and blue and running from it

                 a reality where instead of us, there’s you.

                       and there’s me.

                       and there’s her.

am i evil for not wanting to live in this blurred haziness?

     -- and don’t forget that I am not breathing

     that you have taken my air and made this the only place where we could coexist.

I was just drowning

     you wanted to hear I love you

           but despite all my precious caged words

                 all i could muster, was

and now we have artists like ariana grande, nicki minaj, fifth harmony, daya, etc (this isn’t a callout post for them i don’t care about them as individuals i’m just commenting on a trend in pop culture perpetrated by the music industry) who put out music with feminist sentiments but absolutely no evidence of actively rebelling against societal expectations for women. “i don’t need boys i don’t need to be pretty i don’t need to be sexy” performed in scantily clad clothing with makeup sponsored by perfume and makeup companies is proof that capitalistic pressure has kind of destroyed the rebellious nature of the feminist movement.

so now we have a generation of girls raised on the internet convinced that performing femininity and caking their natural face in makeup in order to conform to unrealistic standards of beauty, placing their worth in their physical appearance inherently by paying money in order to appease some made up standard of what is acceptable for women, and they’ve convinced themselves that this, this conformity of expectation of feminist for women, is inherently feminist?

like it sucks like you guys know feminism is a counteractive movement right? like you know to be feminist is to rebel right? it’s not enough to consume pretty, neat, but wholly hypocritical ideals of feminism. it’s lazy. we have a generation of girls who want to adhere to expectations for women, who want to become that ideal that men have constructed, but now because they “reclaimed” it, that’s feminist?

like no sorry you Can do those things you Can put on makeup and shave and look pretty and girl you Can but don’t pretend that’s feminist it’s literally not. you’re not helping feminism the commodification of feminism is not helpful. men are not upset by you saying “the future is female” when you still look pretty and pink and non-threatening. we aren’t liberated by expectation just because you are now accepting of it. feminism is not complacency.