Words You Can Sleep On

Dear You,

     It has been two months, and it seems impossible.  Two months and most times I’m “fine”.  But realistically, you tied your shoes tight and for two months straight have been running through my mind.  I mean, I never stopped you.  But, don’t you ever tire out?

     You know those instincts and random thoughts you get?  The, “I hope she’s doing okay”, “I really hope she’s doing okay”, “Fucking okay brain, you’ve been good for two months... no I can’t check because pride” thoughts?  Life is relentless with my thoughts of you.  I checked for new concerts the other day on that app, your name popped up in the notifications.  My heart sank to the other side of the planet.  I booted up the computer and pictures of us are scrolling across the fucking start menu.  Wha... how?  Why?  I just looked at them and remembered the times.  Those were very, very good times.  I pop open YouTube and hit “Playlists” to see old gems I stored in there.  Nope, your playlists pop up.  How and why?  (I really like that Charlie Puth song.)  It made me kind of angry, but happy at the same time... that somehow life still knows I want you around.

     I went through a lot of shit to try and avoid the deep stomach knots and weird feelings of my heart trying to wrench out of its space to fight my mind.  Yet and still, these things happen.  Like, life gets it.  Maybe I should take up on those hints the last two months have dropped hard.  Or, I’m reading into things too much.  I mean, I am writing this out because we’re not really on speaking terms.  Even if we were, I don’t know your number anymore.  I could drone on, but you probably won’t even see this.  If you do, I hope you’re okay.  I really hope you’re okay.

I just really, really miss my best friend.

P.S.  Watch Stranger Things, you’d enjoy it.

We used to talk about baby names. Oh, what could I say? Have you ever seen a Jasmine? She has a lion’s mane that needed untangling every couple of days, and good lord her personality traits. She gets the eye roll technique from her mother, it was honed like a sword; those corny jokes are also a dead giveaway. Like her mother, her eyes would have an unfathomable amount of stars inside. From me, she got the way she would think.

At five she would ask, “Daddy what’s the world made up of?” That’s easy, a ton of good and some bad. But when the bad hits, you can’t dwell on why it happens to you. Only ask, where was the good in that? This world is made up of dreamers reminiscing on what they could’ve had. But if I only had two pennies, I would give them to a dreamer in need. The two things I need, I have. You and your mother are very good at that.

You see, I met your mother at one of my darkest times. Looking back and rereading the things we’d write…. I realized she was the good in that. She was beautiful, but she never believed it. She was beautiful in the morning with her hair in her face. She was beautiful in sweatpants and an oversized hoody. She was beautiful when we went to our spot to drink and I acted like they weren’t dates but they were. She was beautiful before, she’s most definitely beautiful after. She’s undeniably beautiful even when I’m mad at her.

I fell in love with many things. Her inexplicably tiny frame, her obsession with the style of diamond in a wedding ring, how she would think she’s fat. Her hiding of grey hairs, the addictions she formed to tv shows I couldn’t care about but watched with her anyway, her name. Your name being discussed with my hand on her stomach, how the sun kissed her face in the mornings, the fights I stayed for. Her stealing of chips at 1:30 in the morning, her sneaky sips of my blue raspberry slurpee, even how she hurt me. Love is not just the good, but the bad too. Even when one gives up way before you do, you have to try to see the good in that. Even when you don’t think everything will be a-okay.

In life there are choices.  Some choices are tiny: what to eat, when to shower, what clothes to wear or what type of toothpaste to buy.  Some are bigger: to go out and see friends on a Friday night, how to interact to the dumb question your boss just asked you at your job, or even what turn to make on your commute to make sure you’re not late.  And the last can be colossal: what to major in during school, where to live, whether or not to send that text, letting someone go or keeping them around.  And with two days before I leave this wretched state, I have a strange sinking feeling in my chest and major decisions to make in the hours ahead.

See, I am in love with a woman I very may well never see again.  A short woman.  A strong-willed woman.  A woman that with ever fiber of my being I can try and forget but know she’ll always linger in my silly head.  A woman that loved me and that I loved back despite how frustrated or out of my element she made me.  A woman I have had silly fights with and serious fights with.  A woman with hazel eyes when the sun hits just right, and a lion’s mane at sunrise.  A woman with tan skin, a sharp tongue, and endless compassion if only she feels she is treated right.  A woman with ambition that bounds greater than mine, and that’s fine.  A woman that now has me sleepless at the right times these past five days, and she keeps running through my mind.

My heart tugs at her, and despite my brain, makes me want to drop everything and drive down south instead.  Figure all this out together and it’ll be okay.  All fucking despite my silly head.  My brain in its reluctant thought keeps swaying me to drive west and try to stay sane.  Like there will be a woman like her some day to keep the mundane off at my increasing age.  You know, some off chance that the woman I end up with will fully understand what I went through the past three years.  Like she’ll love me for me, and not the other way.  With all this inner monologue and internal debate, it doesn’t matter because it was her choice.  It sounds stupid, but in that circumstance... who am I to chase?

May we be less full of maybes, and out of spiked boots Tied to truths only one side believes, and cut everything loose I am most certainly a fool, but for not what you may think The only one looking out for me when my battleship sinks. . .

Maybe I’m full and it was savory, no room for desserts Just or not, plush and sought after, dummies with broken die casters Forging our thoughts into something we each feel luster lacks The last page of the books always leave me so fucking Mad Hatter. . .

I may see between lines but can’t look past her How frustrating to be blurry in someone’s mind but see perfectly after Chess games full of supplemental chest sprains A rookie with nights, pistol whipping the royalty and all the pawns’ swain. . .

We may leave abhorrently, spitting curses ignoring me Silver-tongued devil, you with a smile in lace, always flooring me Decadent but accepted it, burned cities and haven’t regretted shit A bridge is but a reason none of my exes see plays. . .

May they decree cordial, and I whisper mayday mayday Intelligent design forbid they behave, they’re not intelligent finds But perhaps in their own right, willing to vacate Scorched towns to rebuild bridges for lost and founds, but can’t relate. . .

Oh woman, what you do to me Lately my gut has been oh so rude to me Eight years ago when I first saw your face in a couple of dreams I knew the one for me was oh so close

Oh woman, what you do to me Lately my mind has been accustomed to truancy I am crazy for you, and these two years fleeting I know the one for me is oh so close

Oh woman, what you do to me Lately my heart still bounds when it sees ruin, see... Moving the Earth and dividing differences isn't new to me My schooling taught me well although at the time it was oh so Hell

Oh woman, what you do to me Lately my words have made a fool of me Though my tongue is silver, it still bleeds red when bitten I'm still the same man you know oh so well

So after only about a little over half a month now, I still haven’t broke down And it saddens me kind of Doing these things in spite of how it should be Life and love surely fooled me

So after only about three weeks now, I still haven’t come around And it saddens me greatly Sometimes I wish someone would drag me out of my uncomfortable bed and make me Life and love surely did play me

So after only about eighteen days now, I still haven’t had anything wrote down And it saddens me maybe I guess that’s why this is here, when you’re there… hi btw It was a mess I made, I cleaned it the only way I know how

So after only about four hundred thirty-two hours now, I still haven’t been able to feel like me And it saddens me amazingly It’s been so long since I’ve been by myself, all the wealth you gave to me It’s simply been put on a shelf

To my daughter,

May you never run into a man like me but me. He is not a good person yet. I promise you, I was him once. I chased the sunflowers during the May days and caused maydays too. I once lusted for pinks on my palette when they wanted baby blues. I even used to love the oowops and sprays, climb 2 miles up, fall down only to have them find me came to. It’s not a good thing, trust me.

Your mother and I took decades to find each other and we both walked universes into each other’s hearts. Fuck, we still can’t even understand each other. I can’t understand why she needs my every emotion at my tongue, and she can’t understand why sometimes to be happy around her I don’t need to be around her. The point is, he is not a good person yet. I don’t want you to make a mistake some women did with me and be stuck on him. He’s not worth it. There will be one day when he will realize what he has done wrong and work on what he needs to work on… but for now just hold off.