She ran, but couldn’t board the train. I held the door open for her, she could’ve jumped in, but she looked at me like I was stopping her. And now she’s mad at me. I didn’t say a thing, she said she doesn’t deserve this. So I rolled my eyes and closed the door.
This is what’s wrong with the world. People can’t go 25 minutes without needing a screen in their face. They start freaking out, reaching for the phone, the remote, or opening up their laptop just to check their fucking facebook. Do you think Grandma texted her friends back in the day saying, “yo dawg whats up wanna chill?” No. She walked to their house and said “Yo bro. I’m here.”
Ohh but I want to be with you. I want to live with you. I want to come home and see your shoes by the door, see your hoody hanging on the back of the dining room chair, and hear one of your stupid favourite TV shoes playing in the living room. I want to come in quietly, and see you sleeping on the couch. I want to kiss you somewhere on your face, and go about our home not making a noise. I want to make a meal for two while you sleep there, warm and cozy. Make our bed and put away your clothes. Wash the dishes in the sink, then set the table. I want to sit on the couch, with my arm resting on you, there when you wake up.
Hurry, wash your hands. Her scent has found it’s way all over your body. You smell of her excitement, adrenaline, trust. Get rid of it! Get her off of you! She is not you. You are done with who she is and cannot carry her into the future with you.
Little things started grabbing my attention more. The way your hair moved, what you did with your hands when you weren’t talking, your smile, when you got changed, when you were scared and grabbed onto me, when you cried, when I saw you look at me in the corner of my eye, or when our eyes met after you did something stupid, but adorable. I was noticing little things because they made me feel something different from the usual. Like they punched me in the chest a little. Or spun me in a circle for a while.
Finally, after endless amounts of cleaner and scrubbing, my tables are clear. They’re clean, spotless, bright, visible. In fact I put a runner on it. And a vase with a couple flowers in it, too. Also, I keep the front door locked. The backdoor has a permanent bar across it. And my basement door was welded to the frame. Oh, yeah, and I put bars on my windows too. Over the week, in the middle of the night, I built a 10 ft wall around my house, too. There is absolutely no way for you to get inside. I’ve blocked you out. I’ve blocked me in.
You can take my hand. In fact that dress looks nice on you. You blush, I can tell it’s not often someone’s this nice to you. Shame that I’m just playing and don’t really find you different from any other girl I’ve said this too. You’re beautiful though. I really do mean it. I’ll spend my pay cheque on you, and give you butterflies. You’ll stay up all night thinking about me, smiling, thinking I feel the same. Sometimes I forget your name. You think we’re something special, I know. Little do you know. I feel like I should feel bad, but I just don’t.
Hello, how you doin’ miss distant?
Care to tell me the reasons you’ve been missin’?
Somethin’ tells me you feel a little different
Ever since your attitude’s become somewhat dismissive
I think you’re hiding something you want someone to know
You’re trying not to show but you want someone to open the door
That smile may work on others but I can see through to the hurt
So after he watched me cry, keeping his hand on me the whole time, I asked him, “what does it mean when they just get up and leave in your greatest times of need?”
He looked away from my eyes, and said “they’ve got better things to do than to keep you safe.” His eyes met mine, and he cupped my cheek with his warm, dry hands. He told me, “His heart is not where you desire. Do not tug on it anymore. You continue to add tension to the rope, and soon it will snap. Just let go. There is another heart that will never leave your side. You need to let go so you are free to roam, where he can find you.”
For the first time ever, she sat in her car with her seatbelt on, hands both on the wheel, keys to the ignition in her lap. She was staring straight ahead at nothing, in the parking lot. Her favourite saddest song playing in her head. Images of you flashing by; laughing, cuddling, making her feel better. You always made her feel better somehow. Things started getting blurry for her as her eyes started tearing. Her face stayed still, hands firmly on the wheel. She thought of you leaving her forever. Now you were gone, laughing and cuddling someone else. And you were so, so happy. The same happy you were with her. You saw her and smiled, said “hey!” the way you would an old friend. Oh she was crying now. She hugged you back, you two made small talk, then you had to run, your partner was waiting. Oh she was feeling her heart now, every piece stuck in her flesh like shards of glass. She sat in her car ‘til the sun disappeared and she was the only one left.
She said, “I’m a sentimental motherfucker.”
I said, “that’s cool. I’m romantic, sensitive too.”
She said “I’m sensible.”
We could probably work for two.
I came home to an empty apartment, a dark one at that, took off my shoes and turned on the living room light, like any other night. Threw my bag against the wall, took off my bra, took off my socks, took off my pants, threw them on the bed. Opened the door to the patio, stood 200 feet in the air, leaned my head over the railing, and let the tear drop, just a single tear drop, fall. Felt a breeze blow the tear across my cheek before it found it’s way off my chin. I was silent the whole time, not a whimper, just a shaking body fighting for warmth with soldier-hairs at attention, standing tall. I didn’t notice it was below 0º, though. I lost my sense of time, sense of who I was, where I was. I could only feel, without understanding why or how, how I felt. It was the only thing going on in my life. I couldn’t even tell you how I knew what I was doing at work, how I was functioning. It was as if I shut off, but my body kept going, it knew what it was doing, routine. I was somewhere else though. I was just off. Gone. Had nothing to say. I couldn’t speak. No thoughts or sentences were able to form, I was blank. I stared into space, I was weak. The only thing I knew I was doing, the only thing I knew was happening, the only thing I was focusing on, was letting the tear drop fall. Letting him escape.
I’m laying in bed, on my stomach, staring into space at 2:36 am, feeling the need to document this moment because it feels important. I’m wondering, where do I begin? I know I would like to start new. I’m trying to figure out what should be my first move in order to prepare for a mysterious journey, I’m hoping, will take me somewhere I can find myself at peace with myself and the world. I’m wondering if it is selfish of me to focus solely on myself while I try to learn and discover. I feel as though there is a lot on my plate, a lot I’d give up, without even knowing if it’ll be worth it. Also, I’m way too inconsistent and my moods are completely unpredictable. One moment I want this and it’s completely possible, the next moment everything is wrong and I’m completely incapable of such a thing. One moment I’m infatuated and debilitated, the next moment I’m independent with a huge sense of motivation and eagerness.
I’m wondering, will I lose myself by becoming selfless? Will I still be me if I’m at-peace with everything and everyone?
Here I am with a headache, swollen eyes, trying to figure this out. Sometimes things become scary and over-whelming, I’d like to one day see past that and see the good without feeling like I’m cheating myself.
I was in my room for 6 hours today
Didn’t feel like talking so I wrote down what I wanted to say if I had the space
In my mind to accommodate what others may
Give to me with a certain lie, of “how are you?” “I’m feelin’ fine”
Mind If I, walk into your brain? FOr the day? Investigate
Figure out your ways and board your train, of thought
That sees no roads of commas or bridges of dots
A run on sentence, one big jumbled thought
So you jot scribble and plot
An organizational theme to organize a scheme to escape the everyday scene
