words & feathers

You know, I’ve never been happier or more noticeably lonely in my entire life. I have this way, I care a lot. More than the average person I’d like to think. I have this way about me where I tend to care incessantly about someone, even after they’ve left and found someone new. See, you care about these people in your life and then you turn around one Sunday and you realize that no one cared back, at least not enough to make plans with you or give you a call. Only so many of those weeks occur before you decide to stop initiating things, stop waiting for messages and invitations that aren’t coming. Friends come and go, I realize that. I’ve lost more friends than I’ve made.  I’m not sad though. For once, I’m incredibly happy.

For those who know me well,

for those I allow to know me well,

for those who know me despite my best and failed intentions,

for those who don’t,

it is June again

and it’s been four years now.

Four years and to the day next Saturday.

Four years ago I didn’t think things would be much different,

Four years ago I thought a lot of things that I think about differently now,

Four years ago I loved, lost and learned.

  Four years to the day this weekend, I am in love, always fighting to not lose, and learning despite my best and failed intentions.

Not in a horror movie kind of way, but in a way that only stops being scary when in a negative blue line appears.

We flew home on an early afternoon flight with my Dad to the right of us. You had a cold and the window down blocking out the blinding sunlight with your eyes closed. I sat in the middle, like a fork in the road, thinking about that little blue line. When we landed that line would choose a path for me, so I had less than three hours to consider both roads.

I thought about our history. We’ve been together for almost two years and it’s been twenty-two months and two days since our first date. I’ve never met anyone like you, and I’d like to think you bring out the best in me, and I in you. I wouldn’t want to lose you, and all decisions aside, you would be with me every step of the way, but I didn’t want anything to change. We were, we are happy. I thought about all the complicated and upsetting decisions that would have to be made, but the only definite choice I made on the flight home, was that I wouldn’t let any little blue line, affirmative or not, come between what we have.

"I'd understand if you hated me," you say as I stare at my untouched meal. 

Did they not know me at all?, I think staring into the plate, willing myself an appetite. I've never hated anyone, even the people that have felt that towards me and that probably deserved to be disliked in return.

"If you knew me, you wouldn't say I did," I reply. All I hear is my stomach gorging on my insides, which dulls your response considerably and all I hear is the thump my heartbeat. 

As we leave you turn to say goodbye, but it seems too final so at the last moment you say, "I hope to see you around soon." Sounds like the last line of a disappointing film that you can't quite wrap your head around why the director would want that to be the last line.  

I’m forgettable like her though. Proven through the tally of people I’ve loved that remains even with my losses. In some ways, I’ve always considered myself somewhat of a disappointment, ignoring things, making excuses and never letting go when I’m supposed to. Most people are the same, and I, like most people, have experienced disappointments piled upon more disappointments when their faith is rooted in the wrong ones. I, like everyone else, have unrealistic expectations for the people around them, and even more so for themselves.

I have a hard time expecting that one day the person you love won’t wake up one day and feel differently. Maybe that’s why I never expected to trade in my twin for a larger one. The only expectation I meet time and time again is that I will love more than is expected, much more. I jump skull and chest first into the pavement and my head and my heart ring in my ears as I come crashing down on the hard ground: Don’t love too hard. You will scare him away. Keep things to yourself. Be unavailable. Don’t tell him too soon. Don’t write about it either. Hide your journals and lose your passwords. I never keep those promises to my insides. I bleed myself dry for love. 

I didn’t expect you to stick around. I didn’t think I’d be here four years ago. I didn’t think I’d have someone like you nearly twenty four months ago. I never expect happiness. I had learned years ago, around that time when it seemed as more doors were slammed in my face than opening to greet me that small expectations lead to smaller disappointments. But now I’m here and now, what happens?

I’ve been left with all this love and no place to put it, more times than I’m willing to admit. For 23, I’ve been reckless with my feelings, more times than I’m willing to admit. But, you did stay. You’ve stayed. You continue to stay through my fits of emotions, drinking harassments and unsightly morning hair. You’ve stayed and given breath to a name, my name. I am no longer just someone, no longer a Jane Doe -- I’m your someone.

Three loaded words that refer to missing something once found, and is now lost.

I’ve never missed anyone I didn’t love. Yet love is another loaded word that can be easily misunderstood. I fall in love easily, relationships wise. I’m currently falling in love everyday (almost two years...) but I miss him for different reasons than when I miss you.

Missing you is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Despite your gender, you were probably the closest thing to a best friend that I’ve ever had. Sure, my current love IS my best friend, but nothing can replace a platonic best friendship. 

Over the years my heart has become more guarded to any form of love, friendships especially. I’ve overcome my own set of challenges of being bullied as a child, to having toxic friends as a teenager up to several years ago. I’m also guilty of letting good friendships fade because of my own mistakes and actions.

I’m living in my twenty-fourth year and being friends with you for eight months is a fraction of a lifetime, a sliver of the life that I’ve lived so far. But I miss you and I can’t help but think I lost a lifelong friend. And that thought alone is tearing me apart. 

I realize now why people hate birthdays. There’s always that fear of spending it alone, no one caring enough to send a simple card or to interact with you beyond a social media post. But what about the birthday’s that you deserve to spend alone?

The one’s where you burned all the bridges around you and now you stand on a sinking mass of land with no exit. I realized this year, like I should’ve seen two years ago that friends are fleeting and if love ends, it will always be my doing. I can’t take back things that were said or not said, like I can’t undo the gasoline fire around of my island home. I can’t even trust myself, so how can I expect you to do the one thing I can’t definitively do.