Shmeal

Eight months ago, allegedly,

that's when we parted.

It wasn't a secret;

just time moves so swift.

And why is it, that now,

after seasons have passed us,

this deep ache inside me,

has found me once more?

I've felt this before.

Briefly, the longing.

The emptiness, the dull,

and then sharp, hunger-esque pangs.

But not for so long,

has it struck me like this.

Not since, before we,

were playing pretend.

Were we? Was it?

How else could it end?

Once I was filled,

With the lies that I sold us.

Now I'm just empty.

A husk.

I miss you. I'm sorry.

I bought them too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I made it clear the breakup hadn't hit me, and you seemed to take offense. It makes sense in a way, as though I was saying that our current state of affairs was no different than the relationship we once shared.

Obviously it was. I'm sorry if I ever let you think it wasn't different for me.

But despite all the ways that we haven't been a couple these last 8 months, I can't say that I've been single. You've been mine. And I was yours. Yet somehow we weren't each other's. Fucking tragic that.

Two days ago, you told me you wanted me to be happy, and you didn't care if it was with you anymore. That's what made this real. Other things too. But. I never thought I'd hear those words from you. I told you something similar before we cut contact the first time. Maybe that's part of the reason we've seen the breakup so differently.

I know most of the reason is because it's my fault. Because I was the one questioning and unsure and making the both of us unhappy. But maybe that was part of it.

I miss you. I don't think we work. I'm not sure it can. I'm not what you need. You're not what I need. We make each other feel ways just by being ourselves. Some of the issues seem unfixable (either broken beyond repair, or never broken at all.) But I love you. And you love me. And the sex is really good. And when things are good between us, everything is amazing. We really can be so great together. I miss the way you held me. I miss doing things with you. I miss so much from before I tainted it. How different this could have been if...

I could fill books with my regrets between us. Suffice to say that you're my baby, and I miss the good we shared, and the way we would hold each other and giggle and enjoy each other's existence. So much about how you were and are and us. <3

Anyway. I'm states away for a time. Only way this was gonna end honestly. Probably for the best, ending our bittersweet half-shadow of a relationship. You said we should focus on ourselves and try to move on. I've never been so happy to hear such hurtful words. I couldn't agree more. Miss you though. Hope you're doing alright. I love you.

(Ps. I still don't think the moving on bit is gonna happen for either of us anytime soon but I'm glad we're maybe starting since it's probs not gonna work.) (Maybe some day in the distant future, haha, we can dream)

When I need something out of my head

-a note, a poem, a mess of thoughts-

I grab one, turn to a random page, and write.

At least I used to.

I read through them recently.

Looking for some revelation I had written down after my break up.

I found it in the 27th notebook, kinda silly I suppose.

Everything is the same.

So many poems and questions about my gender dysphoria and general trans turmoil.

I still have the questions.

The poems still shake me.

Paragraphs about my mental health, my struggles.

The issues are all still there.

3 different pages with calculus/trig notes.

The exact same content I was studying earlier that day.

Nothing has changed.

Nothing has changed.

So much is different, and yet...

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Anyway here's a banger limerick from when I totaled my car 3 years ago.

There once was a driver named Shmeal

Stuck behind a bus with 4 wheels

She was impatient

So around she went

And now has no automobile

Do better Shmealy, wtf is wrong with you?

Be stronger or something.

Do the empathy thing but like in a good way.

Have a conversation about it without shitting the bed.

Know how you feel and what you want.

I cant.

But this can't be love I'm feeling.

And I hate that.

I want it to be.

But it's probably not maybe.

Is it just buried under everything?

If so does it matter?

I don't know.

But I do know I'm fucking everything up again.

Everything occurring exactly the same.

Like a fucking rewinded tape.

Same.

Exact.

Shit.

And I hate it.

I know that much at least.

Wish I knew more.

It's so amazing and fantastic and definitely doesn't immediately make me feel worse physically and mentally <3 :)

It's so fantastic and good for me that's why I hit it so consistently and often, plus I definitely still get those funny head feelings just like when I started <3 <3 :) :)

You'd think something so blatantly terrible for me, with literally no benefits, would be easier to quit, but alas :/

Haha a lass, that's me :))

I'm the lass :)

One addicted to nicotine apparently <3

Being okay with the stillness,

Enjoying the moment wholeheartedly, without worries of the future.

Without the pressure of having to maintain what is currently thriving,

Without expectations of needing to feel any which way;

With an understanding that however I do feel, thats okay.

And just soaking it in,

One moment at a time.

Savoring,

Without rush.

Enjoying the little imperfections, instead of stressing over them.

Letting questions go unanswered;

Or better yet unasked.

Just existing, be it the two of us,

Or in solitude.

However it may be...

I hope to learn to let this all wash over me someday.

I want this feeling to stop.

It's not as though I'm terrible(?)

But if you ask my conscience...

Id love to let someone in,

And not feel they've been misused;

Should not their opinion be weighted more than my own?

My guilt persists; preceding wrongdoing.

Self-accused, and wanting,

"It has to be you" never on my breath.

You ever want to want something so bad you can taste it?

Me neither but I want to maybe;

I don't know if I can handle it again.

Can I for once have my heart crushed between the scales?

Stuck with someone who will never love me as much?

I'm sure it's agony but at least the war on myself would be less severe,

Knowing I'm the one who's afflicted.

I feel I can't stand living alongside another.

Without ripping both selves to shreds.

I want to though <\3

Regardless my self destruction persists,

How long before I pull someone else down with me?

Nausesiated and restless,

Without satisfaction or motivation.

A reflection of the treatment,

My body and mind receives.

But were you here with me,

My perception would shift:

Self-inflicted ailment,

Turned to negative emotion,

Brought forth by your hand.

What do I want,

What if those don't coinside?

How do I keep:

My three halves whole?

Or teach my thoughts not to hide?

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Questions I want to sit with a while, and pour myself into:

What do I want in a partner?

What would a healthy relationship look like to me?

What would make me happy?

What would I be proud of myself for accomplishing?

What am I passionate about?

Given, received.

Flowingly;

Yet still...

Arrant questions,

Uncouth feelings,

Potent angst,

Fierce unrest...

All alike:

All unanswered.

All consuming.

Waves, eagerly churning deep waters,

Cliffs, jutting up from my footholds,

And thick fogs clutching at air;

Warm rain, torrenting downwards,

Winds that could sweep me away,

The new night air that seeps into the valley,

And you, and us, as is;

As was.

These things,

They make me feel powerless,

And yet, in the best of ways...

{Sometimes always}

How can I feel--

So much confliction,

And be so lost,

Yet almost at peace?

A serene concert within my head?

Or has it yet to begin?

An eye of the storm?

Or the calm in it's wake?

My forgiveness untethered?

Or a loan: untold interest;

Along with a single dropped shoe?

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I was thinking about it last night, some of our early moments,

And for a short while, it was just happy memories.

Appreciating what we had, without being devastated by the current state of affairs.

It did then turn bittersweet, because of course I still miss you,

And I still regret all the bad that happened between us.

But I think I'm at a point where I understand.

I know most of the mistakes I made, as well as the flawed logic that led me to them.

I understand too, at least somewhat, the pain and history that led you to the ways that you were.

I don't think it'll be in this post, but I want to put all that somewhere soon.

So that when you are ready to talk again,

And if you ever want to talk about us again,

I'll have my thoughts mostly fleshed out,

And be able to meaningfully engage in the conversation.

I'll be able to put most of my efforts into how to say the things,

Instead of also needing to figure out what I have to say, or what my thoughts on the subject even are.

That's really all I can do right now:

Work on bettering myself, so as to not repeat the same mistakes,

And prepare for our conversation, so that if it ever does happen, it's not just another in a long line of meaningless chats.

So that if you ever do find yourself wanting to talk, and work up the strength and courage to do so,

I can make it worth your efforts; and help to make reaching out again,