November 7, 2007

Below is a blog post from a long-ago blog of mine that I rediscovered tonight.

This post can sum up, in many ways, where I've been.


And where I'll never be again. But I know many people are there, and to you I say hold on. It will get better. That D-Bag will go away once you realize you deserve so much better.

And, true story...I'm so glad I'm not there anymore.



November 7, 2007

I really should know by now. I should know, that when you say all the things I've always wanted you to say, when you show the emotion I always hoped you would show, it cannot possibly be real. And it isn't. I always wake up. Sometimes it's still dark, and I stay awake long enough for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Long enough for me to snap back into reality. Reality, with my jackets hanging by the door, the picture frames holding images of the people I love sitting precariously on every surface that will hold them, and my closet door closed, because I can't sleep with it open. You never closed your closet. Maybe that's why I never slept through the night.

In the dream, I ran into you at a bar, like I know I will someday in real life. It was like I still picture it. I looked good, was surrounded by friends, was the fabulous self I know I can be. And you walked in, and my heart started racing. I walked by you, trying my damndest to appear like you didn't matter to me. Not then, not ever. What a fucking joke. The minute I passed you, you were off your chair. You followed me. You never followed me before. You whispered in my ear that you needed to talk to me. And so I took your hand and I led you outside. Funny, I've never held your hand before, but it felt so fucking real that if I closed my eyes right now, I could feel your fingers intertwining with mine.

Outside, still holding my hand, you burst into tears. Yes, you, King of the Emotionally Stunted Assholes. And I always thought your eyes couldn't be any bluer. Then again, I also thought you really gave a shit. Wrong again. Through your tears, you told me that since I'd left you, you had done a lot of thinking. You said my leaving you changed you, changed how you treat people. And then I dropped your hands and put mine around your neck, the way you'd never let me in public. And all I could think to say was, "I didn't leave you. You left me." I started crying too, naturally, both terrified and absolutely ready to jump back onto the rollercoaster that trying to love you was, and might just always be. I wanted you to say something definite, something that would guarantee that things would go my way this time. But all you said was, "We are where we are."

And then I woke up,alone. I reached for my phone. No missed calls, and certainly none from you. The sky outside was gray, somewhere between darkness and dawn. That time of day when you haven't quite reached the safety and clarity of daylight, but are beyond returning to the darkness, where you are free to let reality disappear, if only for a few precious hours.

And here I am. Somewhere between the light of day when I see you as you are, and the dark, where I can't see a damn thing. And you exist to me in the occasional e-mail, text message, or worst of all, dream. Even in my subconscious, you couldn't have put it better. We are where we are. And there we will stay.

Except no, we didn't stay there. Scratch that, I didn't stay there I haven't spoken to, or heard from this person in years.

God is good, no?