don't hold me up now, i can stand my own ground, i don't need your help now, you won't let me down, down down
it's that sinking feeling.
that constant reminder of what is and what isn't.
to be back here. in this place, this space that i searched for as a way out of where i was and into you.
what a comfort it was to me then, when i would look around and reflect on why i came here and what i left and the endless reasons of why i could and should be happy now.
had me some plans. like so many plans, as it turned out- they just looked good on paper.
and i used to write to you that your pillows were more comfortable than mine.
and you used to say that perception is a funny thing.
this apartment became a waiting room of sorts, where i picked up things or dropped off things- always on my way to see you. and i would let carton after carton of milk spoil in the fridge, unopened, in the meantime. i never made a home here because it always felt so temporary.
so i left the walls unpainted and the cupboards empty and though you never spent a single night here with me- i feel these walls close in on me now like a strangler whose hands have found a neck. each day, at varying intensities, your breath keeps blowing my curtains around and the steady drum of your heartbeat shakes the pictures from my walls.
i wonder if i should move, but that, too, feels pointless.
now the voice in my head says to let it pass. she says to tear out the pages where i wrote down our children's names- that it was bad luck anyway- and put those photos away in a drawer. she says that cigarettes are not food, though i don't feel nourishment from much else.
and i used to write that your pillows were more comfortable than mine.
and you used to say, 'don't forget the fit'.
the things
the things we do just to stay alive.
that constant reminder of what is and what isn't.
to be back here. in this place, this space that i searched for as a way out of where i was and into you.
what a comfort it was to me then, when i would look around and reflect on why i came here and what i left and the endless reasons of why i could and should be happy now.
had me some plans. like so many plans, as it turned out- they just looked good on paper.
and i used to write to you that your pillows were more comfortable than mine.
and you used to say that perception is a funny thing.
this apartment became a waiting room of sorts, where i picked up things or dropped off things- always on my way to see you. and i would let carton after carton of milk spoil in the fridge, unopened, in the meantime. i never made a home here because it always felt so temporary.
so i left the walls unpainted and the cupboards empty and though you never spent a single night here with me- i feel these walls close in on me now like a strangler whose hands have found a neck. each day, at varying intensities, your breath keeps blowing my curtains around and the steady drum of your heartbeat shakes the pictures from my walls.
i wonder if i should move, but that, too, feels pointless.
now the voice in my head says to let it pass. she says to tear out the pages where i wrote down our children's names- that it was bad luck anyway- and put those photos away in a drawer. she says that cigarettes are not food, though i don't feel nourishment from much else.
and i used to write that your pillows were more comfortable than mine.
and you used to say, 'don't forget the fit'.
the things
the things we do just to stay alive.
posted by diadima at 8:37 PM
5 Comments:
i am sorry to hear that things are tough for you. loss is difficult. time will pass.
speak and listen to your mother. your sister and friends do not have your interests at heart.
I have every confidence in you.
Even if, when, you make mistakes, you'll survive because you're strong and smart and a good human being.
A shift will come in time. That shift will come from you. The people you meet, those you choose to like, those you choose to like you.
In time you'll come to see who really loved you and loves you, that their significance in, and exit from your life shouldn't have come down to one moment or a misconception.
Wonderful people have loved you, it's just to bad you didn't let them.
It's never too late though.
You know, you always write well, and this is one of my favorite posts of yours. Touching.
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