Remember How You Loved Me?

Remember when it was all still magical? Even to this day, when I look back at that time I can't recall many moments where we weren't smiling. We went everywhere together, missed each other when we were apart... It wasn't even all that long a go.

Would you believe me if I told you I can't remember the feeling of being held in  your arms when I slept? Strange, seeing as there was once a time where I couldn't imagine their absence. I've forgotten the way you used to look a me - the way your eyes would change. You said "I love you" in a way I've never heard before... or since.

I can't stay in those memories too long before the lump in my throat forms again, threatening to unleash a river of tears.

We were everything to each other; the future, the answered prayers of our past.

How you loved me...

How I still do....

I may not remember the way your strong arms felt when they held me - but it's only because the pain of your absence consumes me tot he point of forgetfulness.

I may not be able to recall being short of breath - gasping your name - but I'll never be able to shake the stutter brought on by sobs when I try to speak your name.

I have to believe you simply stopped loving me one morning upon waking and seeing my face - because the thought of you still loving me while choosing not to be here is too much for me to comprehend.

One day it will be easier, I imagine. The nights and days that pass without hearing your voice won't kill a little more of my soul at a time.

But right now, I'm not sure how I might make it through he night. What a stark contrast knowing that the only way I could sleep at night was with the thought of your love in my mind, to the reality of now - where I try not to sleep least the dreams of you should come and break my heart into a million  pieces all over again.

You tell me you want to discuss it all, that closure will come of beautiful words speaking fondly of better times -you tell me you still want me in your life. Well, I won't. The pain is too much to bear.

Every time I see you, my heart breaks again, remembering how easy it was to walk away.

"I loved every stupid broken piece of you. I swallowed your badness an held my hand out for more. People thought I was stupid or heroic - I don't know which is better. Do you remember sitting on that mountain? I watched the moonlight stream through the cracks of your heart and I kissed them. Your sad was so big it took up my whole world. There was nowhere I could turn without wanting to hold your hand. There was never any hope for us, and you knew that, but I was the only light that never left, so your wrapped your hands around my warmth like you would have died without it. I could have lived on that mountain forever, you know... I could have washed myself after each dirty day with you and come up clean, I could have been the only good thing. We could have called it love."

The Obsession With Death

I have been obsessed with death as long as I can remember. When I was small, it was animals. It was mind blowing to me that something lying so still. so stiff, could have just moments ago been running free...

My mother called it a darkness... " You're got a darkness in you, that's for sure." she'd say...
 
As I got older, it was weird and random thoughts about dying - If I died right here, right now, would anyone figure out who I was? How would they know who to call?

Older still - a romance. Death ans I would flirt. I'd do outrageously reckless and impulsive things just for the thrill.

At some point, I even convinced myself I would die in a car accident. I've envisioned it, dreamt about it - nearly to the point it seems logical.

Once I discovered motorcycles it morphed into a different feeling. The feeling of power I possessed knowing that at any given time I could simply let go. At a speed of 90 mph on a bike there us nothing but the sensation of wind in your hair , rushing into your ears - the rest of the world is drowned out. The intoxicating feeling of knowing the ultimate freedom is just within your grasp, yet the power to not take hold of its' hand and escape.

Drugs, for me, was a subconscious game of hide and seek with death. Being doped out of my mind was as close as I could get to the euphoric numbness of snuggling deep into its' cold embrace - but without the commitment. That would actually be a damn good slogan for opiates - "death, without the commitment."

I don't want to die - but that doesn't make the feeling or experience any less fascinating to me.

What an unusual place to spend your life; drifting between the planes of a life I know I haven't lived as well as I could have - and sweet, euphoric nothingness. Total freedom.

I know i don't want to die. I knew it yesterday when I crossed the street. Before setting foot into the road, I looked to my right, then my left.

Looking both ways before you cross a street is not a survival instinct deeply ingrained in our DNA, it's a learned response. You have to be taught it. Consider a young child, recklessly darting through a parking lot, driven by excitement. Someone has to teach him. It's an act of self-preservation - a small, simple act that both goes unnoticed but yet screams out "I haven't given up yet!"

I looked both ways when I crossed the street yesterday.

Things are dark an uncertain in my life right now - I am unsure of my next move and at times, with all the loss around me like a cloak it's hard to even fathom moving - but nevertheless, I looked both ways.

I'm going to keep looking, too. I've got a lot of living to do yet.

WHUT?

I guess when you can't be sad anymore, you're just over it...You have to find this thing called acceptance, It's a really bitter pill... and trust me, I've taken may (pills). I keep thinking to myself "this is the summation of all my life's choices"... I call bullshit. I need to write a new ending to my book. I don't like this one at all. The really pathetic part is when you knew this would be the outcome, but you did it anyway...

Are some people simply just destined to unsatisfied? To make goals only to reach them with disappointment?  That doesn't sound right... In fact, it sounds like shit. Are some of us supposed to suffer for our art? If so, that would truly mean that the gifted are cursed - what a contradiction!

But it rings true, just as an old friend once said - "This is the summation of all my life's choices."

Loneliness isn't such a bad lot to be cast, that is... if you are actually alone. To be lonely while other people occupy your space is not as easy. It's like being lonely with your mom in the room. There's plenty of options, but Jesus Christ - she's always fucking watching!

Sleep is an escape... warm, welcoming - there's the option to dream. If you can achieve it anyway. But if you can't? The nights are long, crippling and unforgiving.

All my life I've longed to disappear to nowhere - a place where no one knows me. So I did, mostly. I think the brochure read a little differently than the application has proven to be. In all fairness, I suppose there are much more fun places to be anonymous than here... like, Vegas for instance. I've been anonymous there before. THAT was a good time. That's also another story completely. 

I remember a song I heard once "They say when you're alone, it's better cuz nobody knows you. When no one's your friend it's better cuz nobody leaves you. But I hear voices - and I see colors..." (wallflowers circa 1997 or 1998)  Is that a thing? Cuz I don't think so.

Human beings were not meant to operate in solitude. Everyone needs to find their people, their 'tribe', if you will. Its not a break up that has me feeling this way. Its not even self pitty driving me to write (type) these words... It's culture shock mostly. My first assessment when I arrived where I am was made at a Walmart. I thought, holy shit. I am not going to fit in here. I figured that was unfair. I mean, it was Walmart. But after a while I started to realize I live in a huge residential-zoned Walmart. One with schools and parks and... oh god. 

It is winter, though. I hear it probably will be through June. (sarcasm?)