you've got the love

first published late 2011

this post won't have much clarification so for those of you who get lost, don't worry, next time i'll be better. unfortunately since i decided to make this blog public i've also had to cut back on the amount of honest-type info that gets put into it. but fuck it, another 3 am moment where i can't sleep and the thought of even trying makes me feel sick...
i guess this would make sense, and i knew it was coming or happening - i've known for awhile - but it still catches a girl off guard.
i feel like time is going backwards... like any progress i made is slipping out of my hands. i've seriously been looking forward to this and hating that it's coming for a long time, and now it's here and i'm not ready. in the least. notreadynotreadynotready. and to think that she knew all that the entire time and never shared it. that's the kind of shit that's a dealbreaker, and had i broken that deal i wouldn't be sitting up tonight staring at the christmas tree trying to breathe.

i keep imagining all sorts of scenarios but the crazy thing is that all i can imagine is you. what you'll say, when you'll say it, where you'll suddenly pop back in - and then out again. i can't picture what i'll say or do or look like, because like it always was, you're taking up all the light in the room. i'm just happy to be there. it doesn't matter how much the memory hurts later. i'll pick at it until it bleeds all over the edges and gets insanely blurry, and it still will haunt my nightmares. i'll dream of you... i'll smile and cry at the same time... the way you looked when we fought, when you were angry, when you chased me to that parking lot in the middle of the night. i wonder if you've ever chased anyone else like that. we did a lot of running, mind you, and it wasn't all the healthy kind. and i quit too many things for you, and i'll never get them back. whole pieces - whole selves, thrown onto 41 and left behind. too many chunks to retrieve on the way back again. too many lessons to unlearn; i'm still self conscious about eating... it's funny how that works.
it's times like these when i wonder if i'm losing my mind, because clearly this is all me. or is it? and why does it matter? why do i make it matter? why can't i just let everything go? notreadynotreadynotready.
it feels the same. i feel the same. the more weight i lose the further i slip into the past. the closer i am to being on that couch, hysterical... on that balcony, bent over because it hurt so much to hear what i already knew, getting the news... sliding down the kitchen floor in a dead faint, waking up to blood all over my head and 59 missed texts from the crew. each time is a slow repeat. and the thinner i get the more surprised i am that i still can't deal with this- yet again. you fade together in this awful montage that keeps me awake at night wondering exactly what i've lost and how i'll ever get any of it back, because each fucking attempt fails, and now i'm all hollow cheekbones and smoke again and it makes no difference. i thought it would help, but it makes no difference. i want to crawl into the east side and disappear into late nights with too much, too little, no fear. i miss me... and i miss me because i missed you.

the heaviness on my eyelashes feel like the cold on the washcloth you held to my face in the dark, with the fan silently spinning, and you kept murmuring to me that it was okay, that you didn't mind, and then you went to McDs to get caffeine to try to fix the migraine, and you came back and i had fallen and there was hair and blood caked on the mirror in the bathroom, and you dropped it all and i remember listening to you cry as i woke up again. and then it switches... and we're laying in your bed, and you fell asleep and i stayed for a few minutes to watch you sleep because all your worry lines went away and you tightened your arms around me when i tried to go, and then that fades into slow dances to jack, circles of trust worn into the floor, and first dances with my little sister. and i stay awake and i stay awake and i am not ready.

of course. there are things in common with each of you. incompleteness... emotionally compromising moments... not everything is good, and those moments keep me awake just as much, because i know better. knowbetterknowbetterknowbetter. is "a kiss with the fist better than none?" of course not. but... it's what i know. and i did love what i know, despite that it knocked me to my knees over and again.

it's easy for people to say it'll come, look at me, i waited, i got it, you just wait, don't look, it comes when you least expect it, all these ridiculous phrases. but i had it... did i do it wrong, and now i won't get it again? and then i have a chance and i sit and wait for the other shoe to drop. and yes, they sound like the same thing, and they're similar, but they're not the same. actually, nothing is the same. maybe i'm not sad because of all this... maybe it's because i miss me and i'm never coming back? i can be hollowed out but it doesn't change that i'm fundamentally physically fucked up. and who wants that? you didn't. i didn't, and i don't, and i can be positive all day but then 3 am comes and it's ridiculous to pretend.