Sunday, September 03, 2006
A Public Goodbye
You who I can not reach, I will speak to publicly. Then perhaps, with curiousity dripping off your chin, you will end up here at my blog, like those who are sickingly drawn to the scene of a crime. Then perhaps, on a computer screen, you will actually show up long enough for me to say goodbye.
My heart is a bloody mess. I am not a victim. No one forces me to open up my chest and expose the bleeding organ to boys who are too self-loathing to handle it with care. I am not a victim. I told the world that next time around I would take nothing less than certainty and then I sat around waiting to see if you would call. I am a fool and that is okay with me. When I get into bed tonight and cry myself to sleep for the first time in weeks, it will not be because I never got a chance to kiss you, but because I didn't take better care of my poor, ravaged heart.
There is some sort of lesson I am meant to be learning here. You are some sort of lesson I am meant to be learning here.
Honesty is a bitch. Sunny days full of tears are a waste of sun. You are not ready. True Knockin'.
I have a piece of you pinned up on my wall and a journey of letters to sift through and five songs to wonder about and one short film to watch and a night of magical walking to remember and, now, another url to avoid. I know you just well enough to miss you. I let you in just enough to feel sorely your awkward disappearance. I like you just enough that this goodbye feels like shit.
Thank you for teaching me why two broken hearts can not make a whole. Thank you for reminding me that it is not my job to convince someone else of their worth. Thank you for bailing today because it hurt so much that I was able to spend the entire afternoon with HTSNBN and, in comparison to being avoided by you, it felt good and safe and loving and kind. Thank you for being the company when I was choosing misery and for making me realize that, despite having no control over the things I have control over, I no longer choose misery. Fuck misery. You want to leave by not moving, no one can stop you, but I want more than that. Thank you for being a catalyst for that epiphany.
Current Mood: Sad. Sad that you could be 'taken with me', but not by me. So sad. The night is drenched in this saddness.
So, goodbye. Pressure's off. I take back my Sundays. I shall not be the one to scold you. You now have one less person to fear you'll disappoint. My sweetest penpal...If I could shake you into bravery, hold you long enough to heal your fear, repaint your palette so that you could see the potential joy and not just the potential pain...I would do so. But I can not reach someone that is unreachable. I've tried that before...didn't work out so well. God, even reading back what I have just written makes me see what a big, fat pattern I've repeated. So, goodbye.
And, you know, maybe your post was not about me, for I am not small and you read none of my books. In fact, the more I read it, I see that I, who you have disregarded, can not be the one that causes you worry. But my post, this post, is in fact - in case there was any doubt - 100% completely and totally about you.
My heart is a bloody mess. I am not a victim. No one forces me to open up my chest and expose the bleeding organ to boys who are too self-loathing to handle it with care. I am not a victim. I told the world that next time around I would take nothing less than certainty and then I sat around waiting to see if you would call. I am a fool and that is okay with me. When I get into bed tonight and cry myself to sleep for the first time in weeks, it will not be because I never got a chance to kiss you, but because I didn't take better care of my poor, ravaged heart.
There is some sort of lesson I am meant to be learning here. You are some sort of lesson I am meant to be learning here.
Honesty is a bitch. Sunny days full of tears are a waste of sun. You are not ready. True Knockin'.
I have a piece of you pinned up on my wall and a journey of letters to sift through and five songs to wonder about and one short film to watch and a night of magical walking to remember and, now, another url to avoid. I know you just well enough to miss you. I let you in just enough to feel sorely your awkward disappearance. I like you just enough that this goodbye feels like shit.
Thank you for teaching me why two broken hearts can not make a whole. Thank you for reminding me that it is not my job to convince someone else of their worth. Thank you for bailing today because it hurt so much that I was able to spend the entire afternoon with HTSNBN and, in comparison to being avoided by you, it felt good and safe and loving and kind. Thank you for being the company when I was choosing misery and for making me realize that, despite having no control over the things I have control over, I no longer choose misery. Fuck misery. You want to leave by not moving, no one can stop you, but I want more than that. Thank you for being a catalyst for that epiphany.
Current Mood: Sad. Sad that you could be 'taken with me', but not by me. So sad. The night is drenched in this saddness.
So, goodbye. Pressure's off. I take back my Sundays. I shall not be the one to scold you. You now have one less person to fear you'll disappoint. My sweetest penpal...If I could shake you into bravery, hold you long enough to heal your fear, repaint your palette so that you could see the potential joy and not just the potential pain...I would do so. But I can not reach someone that is unreachable. I've tried that before...didn't work out so well. God, even reading back what I have just written makes me see what a big, fat pattern I've repeated. So, goodbye.
And, you know, maybe your post was not about me, for I am not small and you read none of my books. In fact, the more I read it, I see that I, who you have disregarded, can not be the one that causes you worry. But my post, this post, is in fact - in case there was any doubt - 100% completely and totally about you.
« Blog Home