Thoughts

I trip and fall over love again and again. It’s sweet like strawberries in the summer, like a warm mug of chai in December. I fall in love like it’s my life’s work. Somewhere far away is a lonely little girl who only ever wanted to spend time with her mother. Somewhere far away is a little girl who wished on every shooting star for someone to love her unconditionally. She wished someone would be stuck with her. She wished she didn’t have to vie for love. Now, she’s twenty years old and she’s convinced that love is designed to be lost. Eternity is false and love is only beautiful because it is ephemeral. I loved you when I was seventeen.

I met someone new. She’s joy and she’s truth and she’s the stillness of a warm house in the middle of a thunderstorm. Her hair falls in thick curls over her eyes, the same eyes that turn up on the ends when she smiles. Her eyes are deep and brown and a whole universe exists within them. She wears thin wired glasses and she’s studying law. She’s played violin all of her life. She wishes she could play still, but life gets in the way. It always gets in the way. Her laugh is loud in a way that is familiar. It rings with a softness that you wouldn’t expect, yet completely embrace. When she’s excited she claps her hands and she stomps her feet. You still can’t tell what she does when she’s sad. She waits until the last second to do her homework. She’s a god damned genius. Her friends are your friends and everything’s perfect.

But it has to end. You tell her that you accept love as an object that evades you. You tell her you’ve learned to find beauty in the impermanence. You tell her all of this as if you’ve discovered some grand secret of the universe, as if you’re some guru who has made peace with something that most people wrestle with for their entire lives. You tell her like you’re doing her a favor. You tell her and you tell her and you tell her and you tell her.

The point is, this blog remains an object of catharsis that I return to every once in a while. Whenever I am feeling particularly nostalgic, I pay this place a visit. Like an old relative, it is always waiting for me. Honestly, I am rather grateful for it. Currently, I am almost through my freshman year of college, and this account remains both a time piece and a safe haven all at once. These posts are intertwined with memories from my youth. Passages are tangled with nauseating reminders of my young, cringe worthy views of love, life, and loss. When I first posted to this blog, I was a child listening to Twenty One Pilots’ self titled album. I would waste hours away by watching Life Is Strange let’s plays on YouTube. Things were so simple, then. Rereading these plights of prose brings me to a time in my life when my mental illness was first emerging. It brings me to a time when the pain of it all was still sweet and supple, like sucking the blood from a fresh paper cut. Now, the pain isn’t so savory. Now, things have changed. Everyone grew up. I find myself grappling with so much more now. Life is so heavy, so dense. I wish my head wasn’t so sick.

I suppose I will see you again sometime. I might not be back for another year or two, but you will always see me again. Some things never change.

Falling out of love is quite possibly the most sincere form of pain. The moment that you realize the person who hung the stars in your sky, the person who invented the sunshine that you feel on your skin in the summertime, is gone. It is so abrupt that it almost feels like a cheap cheat only formulated so that the world can mock your naive belief in genuine emotion. Yes, I was in love, but it was so much more than that; I suppose, once I really got to see it, once it was really gone, it was also tragically and beautifully less. Your embrace was warm when it was mine, but it was nothing compared to the cold bitterness of your shoulder that so constantly occupied the space between us. How was that love? The more times that passes, the more I realize that it wasn’t. I hate that I was in such a haze for so long. Was any of it real? I suppose I’ll never know. All I can do is write it down in an unorganized stream of conscience which will only try to soothe my soul. I only ever wanted you to soothe my soul, but you could not even soothe your own. You define love by the reaction of others. You chase after what you can never have. The day I fell out of love with you was the last day that I tried to get you back. Only to be left, crying and alone, in my car. It was warm outside, but I’d never felt more cold. You weren’t only my lover, you felt like family, and you left me behind. Manipulation is a drug. It’s euphoric, but only while you’re inside of it. Once you escape, it feels like a thick, angry tar which you can never wash away. I can never wash you away, no matter how much I wish that I could. I had to pull over so many times that day. My tears were blinding. I was so broken. I was so alone. I’m still not completely rebuilt, and I’m sorry in advance to whoever I’m hurting while I’m rebuilding, but I’m not sorry to you. You weren’t real. You’re the one who let it die.

I remember walking to your car together after school.

Now I walk to my car alone,

Trying not to interact with your ghost

As my breath stains the air in front of me.

I remember falling in love with you beside the ocean.

Now when I look it all that it does is remind me of your absence.

I remember screaming the words of our favorite songs late at night

as you drove me home.

Now all that I can do is scream with tears running down my face

as I physically move the pain that I feel from my fist

to my steering wheel.

I desperately want you to tell me that everything is going to be okay.

But even when you do,

I know that it’s a lie.

The hurt is warm on my cheeks,

and all that I can do is save myself until it ends.

Maybe we’ll meet again someday,

In a butcher shop.

Or,

to leave me here all alone

to hold you back would be a sin

so I let the silent suffering creep in

you need to be free

run free

without me

I just cross my fingers

Your poems should be longer

you shouldn’t skip a beat

to defeat

these thoughts that you think

as blood pours down the sink

and you defend yourself from the evil inside

do not hide

you should be stronger

you fight to survive

not to live

but to abide by the rules in your mind

they’re here

just on the other side

they’re coming

and you’re running

why are you afraid

there’s a message engraved in her brain

You should feel smaller

but the way that you divide all these demons

like fractions

addition subtraction

the light calls you

it guides you

but still you refuse

still, you lit the fuse

why aren’t you better

in this tidal wave world

your eyes are glossed over

you’ve seen things

you know

I wonder how I lost myself

in this tidal wave world

my eyes have glossed over

Isn't it odd

I thought to myself

Isn't it odd

That one broken bond

Could split me into two

Like a molecule

Separating

With purpose

Isn't it odd

I thought to myself

That if this girl hadn't broken me

I wouldn't be standing taller today

I wouldn't be walking stronger

I wouldn't be laughing harder

Isn't it odd

I thought to myself

That this one heartbreak

This one, single motion

As she turned away

Would shape me forever

Into the person I am today

So thank you,

Dear heartbreak,

the word "soon" was a part of every sentence.

but now all I can hear is the ghost of your laughter.

I thought the songs I listened to religiously one year ago today wouldn't sting my ears with painful nostalgia every time I look back on them now.

I thought always meant forever.

I thought that when people said "I love you" that they meant it, and it wasn't this sick facade of emotion like an actor auditioning for a part in this misplaced performance called life.

I thought poems weren't supposed to be this long.

I thought high schoolers didn't get drunk.

I thought that smoke wouldn't taste like relief.

I thought that maybe, if I apologized enough times, you would let me back into your life.

I thought that when you chose someone, they would choose you back.

I thought that people weren't lazy enough to let you go, even when they know you are giving them everything you have.

I thought hearts didn't break.

I thought happy endings were real.

now I don't know what to think.