I read old words today, filled my mind with old feelings, and understood how easy it is to get stuck in something bittersweet. Something violent and calm, painful and comforting.
I always leave too late.
I need to get out of the house, away from all of this.
Part of me wants to scream at you for being so foolish, but all I can see is the terror of possibility in your eyes.
Please don’t be right. Please let this be just an overreaction, something to breathe a sigh of relief over after all is said and done. I won’t be able to handle the other outcome. I can’t. I can’t watch the person in my life that means the most crumble right in front of me. Fuck that possibility.
i scrubbed my hands clean of yesterday’s stain. my hands have never felt so limber til today.
“I’m sorry for everything about me that hurts you.”
The things I need: a good hug, or seven of them; time; familiarity; new endings to old beginnings; music, music; sleep; another hug, or three more.
I’m younger than I used to be and I’m still trying to figure out how to grow up without letting go. How to say hello and goodbye in the same sentence. To you and to everyone that I know, including every single part of myself.
I’m lighting a match under my own skin and praying that I don’t burn out. If only to stay lit long enough to move on and light the next one.
I talk about remembering because it’s the only thing I trust. I believe in the moments too much. If I hold onto them long enough, I can find something of value. I can pretend like they mean something.
Sometimes they do. Sometimes the moments mean everything, and if I’m lucky, they prove it to me without effort. I just wish realization and remembrance didn’t have to go hand in hand.
Too many things to say about tonight.
Not sure how I ended up in the same place I was six months ago.
Words about moments I can’t let go of.
I skipped the line at the funeral home and let my once best friend stain my shoulder with her tears. Between heavy gasps for air, the only two things she could say were “thank you” and something about a promise to love each other no matter what. I told her everything would be okay when it felt like nothing could be - words that I didn’t believe but ones that I wanted her to. Because what else is there to say that you can’t already say with your heart? To even say something with it made me feel guilty, made me worried that maybe I don’t use mine as often as I should. They say appreciation requires loss. And as I sat with one of the most important people in my life, I looked to my right and realized the truth in that statement. The crowd of people blurred and all I could see was a casket holding a girl that could never forget about the constant pound in her chest. Her heart, and the ones afterward that she learned to call her own, never knew how to beat just right. But for sixteen years she managed to keep them going. If that’s not bravery, I don’t know what is. I spent my childhood sharing chalk with her as we learned how to live before it got hard to do. Back when the world was still forgiving. My friend squeezed my hand and it broke me to know that every terrible feeling in my bones was magnified in her own. I couldn’t feel her pain even if I tried.
The next time I saw her was with a smile. It was different, somewhat forced and crooked, but it was a smile nonetheless. We ran through summer’s heaviest rain because everyone told us not to and we wanted to remember what it felt like to break the rules. Don’t go outside, the wind is too strong, the lightning too unpredictable. The thunder shook us almost to the point of fear, but we never once considered turning around. We were best friends, little kids in grown bodies dancing in the rain and laughing at nothing. It was the only moment in existence. Call it cheap or cliche, I dare you, but unless you’ve felt the rain when you’ve needed it the most, you have no idea what I mean.
And in a lot of ways, I think we did it for her. Her memory. To prove to the Gods we don’t believe in that we won’t give up until we feel alive for the people that aren’t. I thought about all the years between then and what used to be, the parts of a best friend that I don’t know and the ones that refuse to cease. She was the first person to teach me what it means to live in the moment. She taught me how to do it years ago. And maybe the definition is supposed to change when you add ten more years to your seven year old self, but I’ve yet to feel a difference and I hope I never do.
“And so he did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life: he picked up his hat and walked away.”
As a friend, I swear to be there for you through thick and thin. If I’m not willing to do that, I don’t have the right to call myself your friend. I’ve learned over the years that to stick to my word, I can’t sugarcoat anything. And I’m not about to. If you want my advice, you will hear my honest opinion. I’m not going to immediately side with you just because I’m nice and you’re sad. Honesty doesn’t work that way and neither does advice.
I’m tired of watching you use the depression card as an excuse and as a way to escape obligation. That’s exactly how its severity becomes wrongfully overlooked. I’m not saying that you don’t have struggles, but you always fail to provide details. Don’t wave the word around for attention. Don’t get offended when I question you about it or call you out on your contradictions. More than anything else, please stop acting like the subject matter is foreign to me. After all these years, you should know me well enough to know that I’m not about to use the words “I understand” or “I get it” if I have no idea what I’m talking about. You don’t believe that I understand because you’ve never once asked me why I do. That in itself says something.
If you want to have a serious conversation about depression that doesn’t involve a temporary fight with your boyfriend, I’m all ears. Until then, I’m not doing this anymore. Stop searching for your sadness. Stop publicizing it once you find a reason. The more we talk, the more I realize that you’ve never been a friend to me and that I should stop trying to be yours.
Please head, stop second-guessing everything.
