I am tired. I am working very hard, physically and emotionally.
everything is very productive. I am not just spinning my wheels, but the tread on my tires is worn.
we discarded the title in january. title only, it seemed. he was my non-boyfriend and I slept next to him, refraining, restrained, in our pseudo-relationship. in june we dismissed any semblance of selflessness. we were enemies calling ourselves lovers, suspicious, desperate, hurt and angry.
I am destruction, eliminating all complacency, and with it comfort. he is creation, replacing blind faith with self-reliance.
love doesn't mean anything to me anymore, but only because it's on pink and red tagboard cards with glitter and sequins. it's written in a flowery font and in this form, it resembles something more highschool or hallmark than I've ever experienced.
that doesn't mean that I didn't mean it when I told him, if I felt I was losing him, if I felt like giving up on us, or if I felt like giving up on me, that I will always love him. love is a futile word, an empty sound, but our language is too limited and the path between my mouth and mind is too twisted. it is so difficult to say in a single statement that I will always remember how you waited patiently outside the hospital room when you supported me when I visited my friend or how you skipped up my front walk to look at the robin's nest, that I have never felt so safe as in the crook of your arm, that I have the curve of your lips and wrist and back memorized with both my eyes and my fingertips, that the thought of you rolling on the floor so consumed with laughter still causes me to smile, how the very little you say is always so valuable and insightful and well-phrased that I envy your silence. there is no single statement to tell you that nothing means more to me than your health, happiness, and well-being and that I know I am strong enough hold you when you cry because I know you will hold me. I remember you in my arms, hysterical with worry. I remember your arms around me, your chest's rise and fall encouraging my hesitant breath. when I see your smile, it moves me like the veins in leaves.
because these feelings are so misguided, I am disappointed. because they are real, I have no desire to change them.
I only pray that the passage of time lessens the acuity.
I am tired and still have so much work to do.
everything is very productive. I am not just spinning my wheels, but the tread on my tires is worn.
we discarded the title in january. title only, it seemed. he was my non-boyfriend and I slept next to him, refraining, restrained, in our pseudo-relationship. in june we dismissed any semblance of selflessness. we were enemies calling ourselves lovers, suspicious, desperate, hurt and angry.
I am destruction, eliminating all complacency, and with it comfort. he is creation, replacing blind faith with self-reliance.
love doesn't mean anything to me anymore, but only because it's on pink and red tagboard cards with glitter and sequins. it's written in a flowery font and in this form, it resembles something more highschool or hallmark than I've ever experienced.
that doesn't mean that I didn't mean it when I told him, if I felt I was losing him, if I felt like giving up on us, or if I felt like giving up on me, that I will always love him. love is a futile word, an empty sound, but our language is too limited and the path between my mouth and mind is too twisted. it is so difficult to say in a single statement that I will always remember how you waited patiently outside the hospital room when you supported me when I visited my friend or how you skipped up my front walk to look at the robin's nest, that I have never felt so safe as in the crook of your arm, that I have the curve of your lips and wrist and back memorized with both my eyes and my fingertips, that the thought of you rolling on the floor so consumed with laughter still causes me to smile, how the very little you say is always so valuable and insightful and well-phrased that I envy your silence. there is no single statement to tell you that nothing means more to me than your health, happiness, and well-being and that I know I am strong enough hold you when you cry because I know you will hold me. I remember you in my arms, hysterical with worry. I remember your arms around me, your chest's rise and fall encouraging my hesitant breath. when I see your smile, it moves me like the veins in leaves.
because these feelings are so misguided, I am disappointed. because they are real, I have no desire to change them.
I only pray that the passage of time lessens the acuity.
I am tired and still have so much work to do.