C'est La Vie

"No longer forward nor behind
I look in hope and fear;
But grateful take the good I find,
The best of now and here."
- John G. Whittier

Friday, June 24, 2011

Forgive me. I've never felt this before. I felt too many things at once and I couldn't categorize them. Every little thing you did gave me feelings I needed to analyze, but couldn't.

I needed to decipher what it all meant to me. That's why it was difficult for me to react to them. The emotions weren't the easy one-worded ones, like "happiness" or "love." They were deeper and more complex. It was all the little things you did that brought all these emotions.

Like the way you look at me, the way you move, the way your lips move when you talk, the way you talk, every little thing you say, the way you walk, how you act, when you're quiet for a beat, when you're loud, the lingering moments in between everything you do. They each bring dozens of different feelings out of me, all at once, in a rush. They leave me breathless, in awe. You're incredibly interesting; every little thing you do, every little thing you are.

Like your sickening eyes (le sigh - every time I look into them; every single fucking time...), your long thick lashes, you texting, you on the computer, how you call it "computader" like a retard, how you move to your music - your head down...moving side to side, you dancing in the car, how you quietly sing in spanish, your callousy hands, your dirty shoes, your handkerchief in your back pocket, your stupid belt, the stupid way you say "stupid," how you hold a cup of coffee, how you inhale when you're smoking, your spitting sarcasm, your unapologetic boldness, your laugh, your voice, your scent, your taste, your touch, your old spice deodorant, how your words trail when you're looking for the right ones, the lines at the corner of your eyes that crinkle when you smile or laugh...

I was trying to take it all in; take you all in.

I was in your world, observing you. I wanted so badly to fit in, to be able to live in all those little moments of you with all those little things. I miss all of them. I miss all of you.

I know what I need now. I need a man I can trust. I need someone to love. I need you.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Since I've been here everyone's eyes are piercing their I told you so's. They won't say it out loud. They know I won't listen. I'd rather stay blind.

I'm sorry I'm maddening. I'm sure you'd rather want boring than maddening.

I'd rather die of excitement.

I just want to come home.

Does it mean anything that I don't want to give up? Do I give up while I'm behind?

I want to write you ardent letters everyday. I don't write them down, so I engrave the words in my mind.

Friday, June 03, 2011

First of all I'm sorry in advance for saying "I'm sorry" so much...

I'm sorry I let you down. I wanted to give you my all, but I was too afraid. I'm afraid to ask myself if I love you. I'm afraid for it to be true. I know it's true. I know I can give you my all and that scares me.

You must think I'm an empty shell of a person. You should know that you're wrong. That's who I used to be. In my past. But I've grown since then.

We could have been so good. I was just too afraid. And I never told you. I wasn't afraid to tell you though. I could have been so good to you.

I took you for granted.

But you were my first 'everything.' It was all so surreal. I felt like I didn't deserve it, so I didn't know what to do with it. You didn't seem real to me. I didn't seem real to me.

You know I wish I didn't leave. But you don't know that I wished for you to stop me from leaving. But life isn't cinematic romance, is it?

I was afraid to fall in love with you (though I wanted to so badly) because I knew when the day came that you didn't want me anymore it would hurt too much. I knew I couldn't handle it. I would have spent my days being every which way melodramatic and pathetic, like a nineteenth century French novel.

I haven't cried over you, though I probably should empty myself of you. I can't break down because I know how hard it is to pick myself back up. I've done it many times throughout my life, but I don't think I have the energy. Not now.

I wonder if when you hear a song it makes you think of me. Because every time I hear a song I'm reminded of you. And I like it. Though I know I probably shouldn't.

I want to listen to all your music and swim in their tied emotions. Just for a day. But I don't.

I'm not fucked up. I'm broken.

I've been putting the pieces of myself back together for years now. You could have been one of the strongest pieces to fit. So perfect.

I've always been a dreamer. I've always gripped onto hope, so tightly that my emotions bleed. I've been hoping that you miss me. That you want to love me. Before I used to be into romanticism, but now I'm into realism. I snap out of it and tell myself, "you idiot, he doesn't care about you anymore." And then I stop hoping and know to stop hoping is for the best.

I miss you everyday. I think about you too much.

Sometimes I'll fantasize about a future we'd have together. A life made for me and you. But like I said.... *snap.*

I miss everything about you. To me, you are perfect. I didn't see any flaws in you. I could have been bitter that you saw so many in me, but I didn't. I don't hold it against you. I don't want to hold anything against you. I think you think of me with regret, as a waste of time and energy. But I still don't hold it against you.

When I think of you....I think of you with fondness. Always.

To me, you feel like home. When I'm with you I feel like I belong. Like I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

I'm sorry I tested your patience. It wasn't my intention. I wish you didn't have to leave first. I wish we both could have stayed.

I heard something about how a man wishes to be a woman's first love and how a woman wishes to be a man's last love.

To put it bluntly, I don't want anyone but you.

Tu me manques terriblement.