Romanticizing Romance.

Dearest,

We only met once at a party. I remember you introduced yourself to me in the perfect gap in a conversation. I was complaining about how I didn’t need a boy, I needed a man, and you walked over and shook my hand. If this was a indie romance, we would have kissed in the snow, under the light of a streetlight, that very night. But it isn’t, I was already in a relationship; you did give my friend and I a ride back to our car on the other side of the city at 2 o’clock in the morning, a true gentleman.

You added me on facebook, but we haven’t seen each other since then. I moved to the coast and you’re still living in that small town where we first met. You’re in a cool band and you grew your hair out. Sometimes I listen to your music and think about your warm car, the sleeping city buzzing past us. I remember we talked the whole way home, but I don’t remember what about. You left enough of an impression on me, though. I partake in the self indulgent fantasy from time to time that you and I may end up together. Though I am, again, already in a relationship.

So the question for me, then becomes, should we expect one person to be everything?

Or better yet- can one person actually be everything you need them to be? Maybe that’s my problem and maybe that’s why my past relationships have failed, because I expect my partner to be able to fulfill my every need. That’s not very fair, is it? They are only one person, after all. So at the end of the day my dissatisfaction is not a reflection on them, but rather on my compulsive need to be perfect.

I want to be the quiet girl, that you just have to get to know. I want to be the exuberant one in the center of the room, that is intoxicating in her story-telling. I want to be smart, and funny, and sexy, and clever, and cute. I want to be a girl who can cook like your mom, and play video games and drink with the boys. I want to be sensitive and insightful, but also tough and independent. I want to be everything. I sometimes wonder who I could’ve been with you.

No one person can be everything though. Instead, I sit and write my self-indulgent bullshit, wondering when I will stop wondering about all the what-might-have-beens in my life.

What do you think, dearest?

Warm regards,

A friend of a friend, from the Ugly Christmas Sweater Party of ’10

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There is no home.

The trees are always alive here
Everything is green, always
Not like home
With its brown all year round
Brown and fires and cold mountains

Home
Where a little smiling face sits
Not knowing who I am
I dream of those cold mountains
And that smiling face

Lingering lingering lingering
My mind is just lingering between the two places
Stay or go
Stationary, I stay

But maybe I’m already gone
Away from the blue sea and green grounds
Back to the brown
The memories of people who no longer exist
The memory of a me who no longer exists

I don’t think I can find her
I don’t think I want to
So I’ll stay
And dream in black and white
So I can’t tell which is which

My Feelings- Like an Ocean: Vast and Unexplored.

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Your room is blue. Blue walls, blue sheets, blue. When I lay in your bed in the early morning light I feel like I’m in the ocean, sinking, sinking, sinking. I’m sinking deeper and deeper into your life and you are off living it. I feel detached, separate. I close my eyes, wishing I could just sleep this feeling away: the aching in my feet and the hollow pit of anxiety in my breast.

Sinking, sinking, sinking.

Excerpt 1.

Ugh, Facebook does that thing now where it shows you pictures from previous years asking you if you want to share them (I do not). Today I woke up to one from eight years ago of me and my first serious boyfriend. I stared at it for a long time, noticing how thin and youthful my face was. I don’t necessarily look any happier then than I do now. That’s the thing about pictures; they aren’t a real representation of what things were like. I stared at the picture for probably ten minutes, feeling a real ache inside of me that I couldn’t quite shake off; it was a kind of growing anxiety. I stared at our young naive faces and thought about how he lingered on in my memory like a stain. Nobody else could notice his mark, unless I pointed it out, but I always know it’s there. No matter how hard I try to scrub it away, there it is. There he is.

I remember he asked me once what my biggest fear was. I smiled and told him I was afraid of the ocean, it’s deep caverns and unexplored abysses; I worried about what was lurking beneath its surface. He smiled and kissed my lips gently. I can’t remember now what his biggest fear was, probably something like failure or heights. I do remember how later that night I stood in the shower, thinking about him, tracing my soapy hands along the lines of my curves, imagining it was his hands instead. I suddenly felt a boiling panic rising inside of me, a sort of deep seated anxiety. I was really afraid of losing him, but more than that, I was afraid of not being happy. The ocean was a metaphor for me; I was afraid of what was lurking beneath my surface, an unhappiness and melancholy that had been there since childhood. I pushed the thought away then though, and smiled again. He was mine, nothing was going to change that.

I was wrong of course, and I think about that from time to time- how wrong I have been so many times, about so many different things. When I look back at my life even a year ago, it feels like the girl in those pictures isn’t even me. Her life was so different. There was so much hiding inside of her, waiting to make it to the surface. So much would fall apart and come together and then fall apart again in this year. And that’s the thing about it, no matter how much you think you know about yourself, like the ocean, there are always new strange things lurking in the deep. These things have been there all along, but have existed undiscovered. So how then, can we expect to know another person entirely when we don’t even fully know ourselves? Continue reading Excerpt 1.

Early Morning Magic.

I love the way the pavement sparkles with fresh frost under the street lamps in the morning. Its like something magical has been happening while the world was sleeping. Its early, the sun hasn’t risen yet, and I am awake. I feel the edges of dreams and sleep still clinging to me, trying to draw me back to bed. But outside, in the night air that’s becoming day, I breathe in and feel the day ahead of me: full of potential and maybe just a little bit of magic. There’s pixie dust across the sidewalk!

10 Things That Could’ve Been Said at the Beginning or the End of a Relationship

1. I don’t think I can do this again.

2. The thought of someone like you would normally make me want to jump in front of a train.

3. I cannot decide if I’m actually happy or if I just want to be happy so bad that I’m making myself into this person.

4. At the end of the day we just have to be honest with ourselves; relationships suck.

5. There aren’t many things in this world that make me happy, but you…

6. When I used to imagine the person I would end up with it was basically the exact opposite of you.

7. There aren’t a lot of reasons for us to be together, it honestly doesn’t really even make any sense why I’m attracted to you, but I can’t help it. You’re like a drug that I can’t get enough of. I’m addicted to you.

8. I don’t remember the last time I was actually happy.

9. I feel so lucky to have met you.

10. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.

Happiness is a Flash.

I remember staring out the window as the countryside flashed by us, the stars bright in the sky, and the mountains like a shadow against the night. We were passing wine in the back seat, taking giant greedy sips trying to keep this euphoric feeling from slipping away. I felt warm and cozy with you as I touched the glass pane and felt the chill of the air outside. That song was playing on the radio, the one that I like so much, and I was singing along without a care in the world. That’s when I suddenly remembered what happiness feels like, it isn’t bright and shiny like we imagine it to be, but sometimes it’s just warm and cozy. These moments would fade and combine into others, the frivolity of the evening would change our happy glow. But I still feel it when I look back at that car ride, your fingers interlaced with mine and that song playing on the radio.

Oh home is wherever I’m with you…

Disappointment

I need to work on managing my expectations, because living in a constant state of disappointment or anxiety of impending let down is not a way to exist. As I write this I have tears brimming in my eyes because I let myself get too caught up in my hopes for a person, and when they did something human I couldn’t handle it.

But is that all my fault? They made a mistake. I need to work on finding a balance between setting realistic expectations of people but also being able to express my disappointment and frustrations.

It’s not a big deal, but when I’m sitting here alone it really worries me that this could be a shifting point for things, and that’s me, not you.

Lists and Lists and Lists.

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I have a problem of comparing myself to people, constantly trying to place myself on some sort of spectrum that defines my worth against others. I’m just trying to find my place amongst everyone else, but it ends up being detrimental to my emotional well being. I sit on the bus and go- I’m fatter than she is but definitely in better shape than that other girl; I have a nicer face than her but soandso has nicer skin; she is really sociable, but I’m funnier and so on and so on. I could compare myself to others forever.

What’s the point though? It doesn’t help me to feel like I’m better than other people, all it does is give me an unrealistic image of myself. Over and over again. Then why do we do it constantly?