As I disconnect from your spirit, I am left with uneasy hands. It is sprinkling and I am counting the raindrops on the pavement as I sit outside my home. But ‘home’ is not a completely accurate term. I had to forfeit mine when you left this world. Now my home is in the atmosphere of coffee shops or late night conversations. It is in the smiles of the people around me. I carry this void in my chest from your absence. It aches during holidays. It aches when I have to explain myself. Sometimes it aches for no reason at all.
When I feel a frown coming on, I shoot it down, chase it until after dawn. I am coming up, I am walking back and forth wondering, merely wondering, what this all is worth. And that’s what scares me. That’s what makes a crack in the windshield of my perception of recovery. And you don’t even know me. Not anymore, at least. Not what’s become of me. If you saw it, I don’t know if you’d like me. I don’t know if I like me. But I’m trying to be, I mean so hard. I am trying to be me. Take what I say and turn it around. Tell me I’m heading up, Not down. Never down. My face will sometimes hold a frown, But I don’t have to accept it, I don’t have to drown.
You came at a time when I was exhausted from love. I was done waiting for the whole intimate, caring, devoted relationship thing I had been looking for since I was a child. You came at a time when I was shipwrecked and stranded, in the desert of desperation and degradation. You came at a time when I had no expectations, no predictions, and no hopes. You came at a time when I had given up.
And you rejuvenated me. You are the oasis that came through, the wind that prevents the limp bird from falling, the hysteria that pushed Sandra Bullock to fight for her life in that one movie we watched together, squirming and crying out on the bed. You are the sunset because you’re reliable and colorful and constantly changing and exactly what my soul was aching for.
I can hear you in the songs I sing in my morning showers and I can taste you in the outside air on sunny days. I constantly see you in the people walking by and I am holding onto this world so much more firmly, so much more delicately because I know that you are listening to each foot I plant in the soil. And I get to listen to yours.
You are the midnight burgers and the sleepy kisses and the constant laughter and the lip stretching smiles. You are the energy that existed across the way from me, crossing paths in theater plays and stomach sickness.
It is a necessity to eat and laugh and kiss and sigh and cry and touch and carve into time with you. I feel a miniature nature populate when we sleep together and I can’t wait to plant forests across the earth with you.
I can’t imagine the world inside of you. If I had to guess, I’d say your system is on fire. You breathe smoke into people’s lungs when you kiss them. You sit on a mound of coerced compliments. You feed off of the attention you steal. If the girls could see the tail subtly wrapping around them while you have them looking the other way, they’d run. Your dragon lair is filled with the intimacy you pluck from the hearts of girls who couldn’t know better.
My insides scream at the way you nestled a hurt inside of me and then dropped me off of your realm. The nerve you have to act as if we’re good could sting the scales off an alligator. The next time you try to wrap your arms around me, substitute me for a cactus. No matter how charming you think you are, you do not act in the interest of others. You act in the elevation of yourself. Each stolen smile lifts you higher. You unfortunately have not realized that as long as you depend on external acceptance, you will never be satisfied. Other people are not a product for your consumption. The more bones you suck dry, the hungrier, the emptier you’ll become. Start acting like an adult.
The world is much easier to live with if I can assume that no one can go along treating it the way you do and not get caught up in their own trap at some point. I am walking on eggshells around you and sickeningly you are a marathon runner. Take a second to imagine what it is like to be another person. You don’t know if love exists because the only son of a bitch you’ve ever loved is yourself. You are two dimensional. You are a lonely heart’s worst nightmare. You are a lesson that only comes with experience.
Sometimes you meet someone, and it’s so clear that the two of you, on some level belong together. As lovers, or as friends, or as family, or as something entirely different. You just work, whether you understand one another or you’re in love or you’re partners in crime. You meet these people throughout your life, out of nowhere, under the strangest circumstances, and they help you feel alive. I don’t know if that makes me believe in coincidence, or fate, or sheer blind luck, but it definitely makes me believe in something.