Thursday, December 12, 2013

two hundred fifteen

"I miss your face."

That's what I told you. But what I really wanted to say was that your smile feels like home. It feels like all the happy memories of school days rolling over me at once.

What I really wanted to say is that ever since I noticed that new dimple, I've wanted to touch it; to run my finger gently around it and in it. I've thought about kissing it more times than I can count; about brushing my lips against it's edges and finding my way, eyes closed, to your smile.

That's the truth.

My face burns when I think of all the things that I'd want to do if your face was close to mine.

And it's crazy, since all of this is based on such a slight connection - time, space, experience separated us long ago.

And yet you still hold a special place in my heart.

It's on reserve and only you can fill it. Until that day, it's filled with memories of you. It's filled with all the ways you made me laugh; the moments we had together alone in the dark; the honesty of your unpretentious heart and how you'll always be my friend.

I cherish the way our connection renews itself in the most unexpected ways. Every time, it is a delightful surprise. And every time, you encourage my heart.

Monday, December 9, 2013

two hundred fourteen

It was a moment of clarity before the whirlwind of insanity settled down and wrecked everything that came after.

I understand what you're saying. And I think that we'll be friends forever. But I really think we're missing a really important opportunity here. 

You agreed. But I don't think you were listening. You were trying to deliver your own agenda in the moment. And I heard you, although I wish I hadn't.


*I'll pick up the pieces and I put them back together now.
They may not be the right way, but that's okay - as long as they're all the same.


I don't understand how it all unraveled so quickly. How a shared path could become two separate paths after I had done everything I knew was right to do. 

I didn't realize that the pieces of the dream you had set before me were blocks made of pretend. Nothing of substance, so there was no topple, only an evaporation. All the planning made moot by your decision to walk away. 

So I feel like there are pieces missing as I try to put things back together. Pieces that make up a very different life than the one I am living now, the one I had hoped to be living by now.

So hardly anything feels right. I know that I'm working with everything that was there before, but not everything is the same. There are empty spaces, phantom limbs that ache with pain and itch with healing.

I wonder where the insanity lies. 

Is it in the fact that I'm still trying to make sense of what's been lost?


*And if you had noticed, well would you have thrown the towel in,
Before I missed out on all this love, and watch me roll away again,
Watch me disappear under my skin.


There's nothing for you to notice. You're gone. I accept this. In many ways, I am gone. Or at least, getting there. The towels have piled up, they're mildewing with tears that I've cried.

I don't blame you for coming-to, for coming to a realization that you really weren't interested in the shared path that you initiated and we created together. 

How can I?
Life should be what we want it to be. 

But that rational part of my mind, that acceptance - that brilliant moment of clarity in the peak of night's darkness - wasn't strong enough to cover the rage in my heart, the rage that without warning tore into the moments afterward. It was a dark night indeed. 

We rolled away. With the dawning of the new day, we had disappeared back into our own skins and the rules were different.

If only we had said goodbye then and there. If only we had embraced the finality of the decision made, instead of trying to make it work. For me, what came after was like dancing through a field of barbed wire. Still trying to be graceful and elegant, when every step continued to cut and tear through my flesh.


*I don't believe it, that things could get any worse than they did that time.
You must have seen it. I mean how could we get lost running in a straight line?


We got lost in it. In the insanity of trying to stay together when the wisest thing was to just walk away. We both said things, did things, that were ruled by the insanity that settled in and filled our minds with...

the hope that we could make it through to the other side? 
the idea that - with time - what we wanted (what you wanted) would indeed change? 

lies that did their best to undermine the truth we already knew.

It's a missed opportunity. No doubt about it. And one that I don't think will ever present itself again. And clearly, for the better, although my heart is still trying to believe it, still trying to make sense of the missing pieces.

But more than wanting you, I want someone who wants me, as I am for who I am. 

It will take me a long time to be your friend again.

There are just certain things that I shouldn't have to ask my heart to handle. So, I won't. At least, not any longer. 

*Lyrics from Jason Mraz's Running 

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

two hundred thirteen

I can't tell you how much I appreciate you. And I appreciate the times that we've been given the opportunity to reconnect. Your friendship and kindness both last time and this has provided a kind of safe cove for me to recollect myself, take a deep breath and move on.

The first time, I moved on - away from you and towards him.

This time, I move on - away from him; and maybe not towards you, but not away from you either.

I'm not sure that's fair; if you're being properly compensated for your investment, but you haven't really fussed. You just take me as I come - and I appreciate that as well.

If I'm not moving towards or away from you, I think it's that I'm moving beside you - as a friend, as a partner-in-crime, as one who appreciates the beautiful heart that resides within you.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

two hundred twelve

Loving you was some kind of punishment for me, an atonement for some kind of very personal sin. Or maybe, it was a lesson so that I would learn not to be such a dumb ass.

In some ways it reminds me of that song by Howard Jones, "No One Is To Blame."

Except, it was never really clear that you wanted me. Maybe there were moments, small tiny flashes of feeling confident that you felt as much for me as I did for you. But they're lost in the dusky fog of confusion and silence. It's a smog that covers all of the happiness that we shared. To remember something of you, of us, that makes me smile, I have to wipe it clean first and do my best to see it clearly.

And I feel like I'm to blame. But I'm not sure how.


I chose to give in to love, completely and totally; to give into you absolutely, with the intention of giving love the opportunity of working with my whole heart, my 100% commitment. And I thought it would be awesome. I was running faster than I ever had and was planning to win - but there was no ribbon at the end. Only a feeling of abandonment, of being alone.

"Fool me once, shame on you." 

I was giddy with having a second chance with you to make it work. I knew that I would be better, more loving. That I would be more patient than ever to learn the lessons that our relationship would bring to light. Because our love was sure to endure. We got so close that everything seemed to light up and sparkle around us - and then you snuffed the light by saying that it was over. Again. I felt your words land like strikes on my back and all I wanted to do was turn to you and say, "What sin have I committed?"

"Fool me twice, shame on me." 

I just knew it this time. We would build a castle from the ruins. I believed every word you said, because why would you say them, if you didn't mean them? I didn't know you to be a liar.

But I should have known that you were a mind-changer. If nothing else, my time with you had allowed insecurity to sink in and rot my confidence. The whole experience just ended up being another mansion I wasn't allowed to live in.

"Fool me three times, and I am seriously just a dumb ass."

So it seems I am to blame. Almost 3 years of trying to open myself up to love, only to learn at the end that I haven't even learned how to identify it correctly yet.

Tough lesson.

Hope I don't have to re-learn it anytime ever.

And somehow, I don't even blame you anymore, because why would you love a dumb ass?

Thursday, August 2, 2012

two hundred eleven

We received this update the submission form on the Love Letters website:

I wrote a letter to myself when I was 22 and am supposed to open it when I’m 33. 
I guess I was inspired by the double-digits. 

I wrote all these PREDICTIONS about what my life was going to be like. I have a feeling I am going to be DEPRESSED when I get to it in a few years! 

My letter to myself at 44 is going to be much more generous and allow for changing interests.


Have you ever thought about writing yourself a love letter?

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

two hundred ten


Another year passes. You struggle with aging, with the changes ahead. You’ve never been good at handling change you’ve had little control over.

I want to remind you how much I love you. How much I cherish all the silly times we have and will continue to in our future. I want you to understand how I don’t notice all the minuscule changes you notice as major changes because I am in love with you for what’s inside, not what’s outside.



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Sunday, July 29, 2012

two hundred nine

I’ve traveled to many places.

Which means that I’ve woken up in many places. – with a feeling of happiness, with a sense of adventure.

But when the place I wake up is your bed…

Well, let’s just say that the past feelings...



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