It's past six a.m. and I can't sleep because my thoughts won't stop and the tears won't stop and the sobs won't stop, any one of these issues being sufficient to hinder a good nights rest but the combination being especially problematic.
If someone one day were to dissect me, I have the feeling that it would reveal that I'm only an inch deep, and that the rest of the space inhibiting my admittedly narrow body is just a vacuum. It's how I've felt lately. Not tonight.
There are days and nights, when I've been alone for too long, that I can't seem to stop myself from falling back into the deep recesses of my inner void and tapping into the emotional well that I've worked so hard to bury these past few weeks. Once I'm there, there's no stopping the tidal waves of salt water that force themselves in trails down my cheeks.
The thought continuously occurs to me that I should pray for comfort.
I never do.
I'm not speaking to God right now; it's not Him, it's me.
Besides, I need to feel this way. It's my only release from being the inch-deep psychological anomaly that is my persona in the daylight. I allow myself a constant stream of meaningless distractions that sometimes lasts the entire day and following night, sometimes not.
I seek simple amusements to fill my day and my mind, my eyes and my ears. My brain and heart don't get any input. They just don't. As for feelings, I am allowed one single inch of depth. I learn to just ignore the ugliness that I carry around with me wherever I go, no matter how far I walk, how long I drive, who I talk to or how very many distractions I seek out like a heroin addict does, well, heroin.
And if I bleed, I bleed knowing he may care,
but if I sleep, I sleep to dream of him,
but wake without him there.
because I used to have someone that knew me better than I knew myself, and even when we were separated by thousands of miles, at my lowest moments, I could feel that closeness that no distance ever severed. And I could hold the letters he wrote to me and feel his love seep into me through my eyes and through my fingertips. And I was never, really, alone.
And I know that right this very moment I could get in my car, drive for twenty minutes, knock on his door, and he would hold me like nothing has changed, like the beautiful sun I've revolved around all these years hasn't gone and left me spinning alone in this darkness. And for a little while I could convince myself that if two people really love each other, and they're trying their best to do what's right, and they're selflessly trying to serve the other, that they can be together.
But they can't, and I don't know why.
I don't know anything anymore.
He's not really gone, I just can't have him. And now all I have is this vacuum. This void, this well, this ocean, this inch....
But it only hurts when I'm breathing.
My heart only breaks when it's beating.
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming
so I hold my breath
to forget
and it only hurts when I breath.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
If my life were a novel, I probably wouldn't read it.
Today was semi-eventful. Caitlin took me to meet her faux-family, the Savios. I followed her to their house in my car while she rode her bike.
I blasted "Boys of summer" through the window so she wouldn't get, like, bored or whatever.
When I got there, I vaguely noticed some paper taped to the front door. I read it when I left and was amused to read, "Notice #2: The boys of this house must return home immediately after school each day and must remain in the house - without friends - until all No grades, D's, and F's are corrected." There was another paper on the door that I assumed was notice #1. I didn't read it.
When I got in, the first thing I noticed was that the doorway into the kitchen was a brick archway. I know, awesome. I think I said so. I can't tell you what the second thing I noticed was because I didn't happen to be carrying a notepad and pen around me to document really really stupid and irrelevant things like that, and my memory is pretty average.
Anyway, sometime after I had finished noticing the first two or more things, I was introduced to the ever so friendly Mrs. Savio, who began with telling me how beautiful she found me (which, naturally, endeared me to her faster than if she had just vowed to donate both her kidneys to my dying first-born child), and then explained to me how unfortunate it was that I had only just missed the fashion show their family had put on consisting of some Already-Been-Loved clothes sent to them by their highly eccentric far away aunt "EVIL-een." I immediately liked them better for having an eccentric relative (it would have been best if they had been the family eccentricities, of course, but I guess that's not their fault).
The more time I spent in that house, the more I liked it. You know in those books where they're talking about some place that just feels like home the moment you set foot in it, with that homey atmosphere and warmth and every crevice just oozing of perfect, familial content, or that scene in those movies where the young, attractive lead character walks in for the first time and the oh-so cheery background music starts up and they're just watching everything and the air is filled with laughter and fun and closeness and the jello looks way too much like old cheese and everything is right on the world? And you're watching and your only reaction is 'Mm,' because you didn't even bother thinking about it because places like that don't even exsist? Well they do.
And they're kind of like the Savio's house. You know, kind of.
In any case, I really liked it. I liked it even more when I sat on the couch and saw the greenish-pink-yellowish pillow moving out of the corner of my eye, and I turned and found that I had plopped down inches away from a giant iguana named Ghandi who, it turns out, is not, in fact, a pillow. It was love at first sight. I've finally found my Rebound.
The night continued. Jen and Aubry showed up and I got to explain how I was now living with Caitlin because my parents kicked me out of the house for being out past my ten o-clock curfew and then leaving the house the next day even though I was grounded for being out past my ten o-clock curfew. Later, in between moments of pressing myself tightly against whatever latest object was hindering my attempt to get an arms length between myself and my newest acquaintance, Rex, aka "Lets see how many times I can rhyme my name with 'Sex' in a single conversation" Rex, I got to explain to the overly curious, touchy, speedo attired highschool boy all about how Matt and I had met when I was twelve, had a crush on eachother, been best friends for two years, been broken up by my parents for three years which he spent seriously dating one of my best friends, met by chance in the street one night when i was seventeen, started dating, wrote to eachother all through his mission, got engaged, planned a wedding, paid for a wedding, cancelled said wedding three days before the wedding, and then broke up. All the while avoiding any actual eye contact with a boy who was practically sitting on my lap the entire time.
And then when I went downstairs again a saw this boy James, who used to go to my school. It was weird, but cool. His hair is all blond now, like mine, and his voice got really deep, like mine.
Yep, pretty crazy.
Crazy day.
I blasted "Boys of summer" through the window so she wouldn't get, like, bored or whatever.
When I got there, I vaguely noticed some paper taped to the front door. I read it when I left and was amused to read, "Notice #2: The boys of this house must return home immediately after school each day and must remain in the house - without friends - until all No grades, D's, and F's are corrected." There was another paper on the door that I assumed was notice #1. I didn't read it.
When I got in, the first thing I noticed was that the doorway into the kitchen was a brick archway. I know, awesome. I think I said so. I can't tell you what the second thing I noticed was because I didn't happen to be carrying a notepad and pen around me to document really really stupid and irrelevant things like that, and my memory is pretty average.
Anyway, sometime after I had finished noticing the first two or more things, I was introduced to the ever so friendly Mrs. Savio, who began with telling me how beautiful she found me (which, naturally, endeared me to her faster than if she had just vowed to donate both her kidneys to my dying first-born child), and then explained to me how unfortunate it was that I had only just missed the fashion show their family had put on consisting of some Already-Been-Loved clothes sent to them by their highly eccentric far away aunt "EVIL-een." I immediately liked them better for having an eccentric relative (it would have been best if they had been the family eccentricities, of course, but I guess that's not their fault).
The more time I spent in that house, the more I liked it. You know in those books where they're talking about some place that just feels like home the moment you set foot in it, with that homey atmosphere and warmth and every crevice just oozing of perfect, familial content, or that scene in those movies where the young, attractive lead character walks in for the first time and the oh-so cheery background music starts up and they're just watching everything and the air is filled with laughter and fun and closeness and the jello looks way too much like old cheese and everything is right on the world? And you're watching and your only reaction is 'Mm,' because you didn't even bother thinking about it because places like that don't even exsist? Well they do.
And they're kind of like the Savio's house. You know, kind of.
In any case, I really liked it. I liked it even more when I sat on the couch and saw the greenish-pink-yellowish pillow moving out of the corner of my eye, and I turned and found that I had plopped down inches away from a giant iguana named Ghandi who, it turns out, is not, in fact, a pillow. It was love at first sight. I've finally found my Rebound.
The night continued. Jen and Aubry showed up and I got to explain how I was now living with Caitlin because my parents kicked me out of the house for being out past my ten o-clock curfew and then leaving the house the next day even though I was grounded for being out past my ten o-clock curfew. Later, in between moments of pressing myself tightly against whatever latest object was hindering my attempt to get an arms length between myself and my newest acquaintance, Rex, aka "Lets see how many times I can rhyme my name with 'Sex' in a single conversation" Rex, I got to explain to the overly curious, touchy, speedo attired highschool boy all about how Matt and I had met when I was twelve, had a crush on eachother, been best friends for two years, been broken up by my parents for three years which he spent seriously dating one of my best friends, met by chance in the street one night when i was seventeen, started dating, wrote to eachother all through his mission, got engaged, planned a wedding, paid for a wedding, cancelled said wedding three days before the wedding, and then broke up. All the while avoiding any actual eye contact with a boy who was practically sitting on my lap the entire time.
And then when I went downstairs again a saw this boy James, who used to go to my school. It was weird, but cool. His hair is all blond now, like mine, and his voice got really deep, like mine.
Yep, pretty crazy.
Crazy day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)