June 2012
“I wonder if it’s possible to start a new relationship without hurting someone else. I wonder if it’s possible to have happiness without it being at someone else’s expense.”
—― David Levithan, Boy Meets Boy (via d-isasterology)
So I’m doing this thing I never thought I would do.
And I’m doing my best to just play it cool.
(Gosh I really hate when things rhyme unintentionally, but they’re the words you need to have go together.)
I haven’t done this in awhile, so it’s feeling a lot more foreign than I expected. It’s not hard or anything of that nature. It’s brought back a small level of anxiety, but in a good way. It’s different. It’s interesting. It’s long over due.
And perhaps that’s where the “problem” lies. I feel like I’m showing up late. 10 years late. And there are all these feelings and things getting sorted out but because I’m not at the place you are I get anxious that it will become a problem for you. That you will resent me for it.
I told you a few years ago this is all I have to give. There isn’t much left, and it will have to be enough. That still stands. I’m still patching up old parts of me, so I can’t get to that place you’re at. I don’t know how to. I don’t know when that will happen. I don’t know what will be the tipping point. The only thing I know is that it’s going to be quite a bit of time before it does.
I know it’s not enough, but that’s the best I can do right now.
I think I fall a little in love with people when I catch them in small moments, when they think no one’s looking at them, when they absently twirl a strand of hair between their fingers, when they lick their thumb to turn a page in a book. There’s something beautiful about a person who is lost in a thought, or adjusting their shirt, or is scratching a phantom itch on their arm, or even someone who is looking at someone else like I am looking at them.
Play
I thought I understood it
That I could grasp it
But I didn’t
Not really
I knew the smudgeness of it
The pink-slippered-all-containered-semi-precious eagerness of it
I didn’t realize it would sometimes be more than whole
The wholeness was a rather luxurious idea
Because it’s the halves that halve you in half
Didn’t know
Don’t know about the in between bits
The gory bits of you
And gory bits of me
-Like Crazy
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May 2012
Maybe I’m alone in this, but I am done with “Somebody That I Used To Know” by Goyte. I’m done with hearing it, the remixes of it, all the covers of it. Just. Done. Can’t wait for everyone else to hopefully feel the same soon.
“The most important things are the hardest to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear.”
—
-Stephen King.
(via walkwhilereading)
“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”
—Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath (via larmoyante)
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It’s 3 a.m. and I am still awake. This is unfortunate because regardless of what time I fall asleep, my alarm clock is still going to go off at 8:45 a.m. I do not get to change this just because my eyes don’t want to close.
I’ve been sleeping so well the past few weeks. It’s actually been unusual. I have a very different “normal” in regards to sleeping. I didn’t think twice about it until now. The thing that is different about tonight is that I barely spoke to you today. I don’t want to think the two are related, because that would just be silly. I’ve spent years not talking to you. And it would also be silly because I’m not up late pondering. I did some work I brought home with me, cleaned up my room, read a lot, etc.
I just feel a little restless I suppose. I’ve felt a bit more calm this past month or so. And maybe that’s just me getting things sorted or maybe that’s the effect you have, I really don’t know.
What I do know is that you and I are friends who talk quite frequently. More recently, you’ve been the person I talk to last before bed. That’s always a special place for a person to be, even as a friend. Perhaps our conversations settle me a little bit more. I’m not an easy person to settle, so it would make sense that you could. I’m not saying anything bold with that statement. It’s just very matter-of-fact. I know where I stand with you, and I know that my place in your life is a friend. But I did miss talking to you today. If that counts for anything.
