Loving You...When You're You

Fingers mindlessly playing together and I carry this secret with me
Across the street,
Through the farmer's market,
Your fingers whispering stories to my skin
Time slides across the sunny skyline
Like melting butter across a pan
I am squinting into the sun to see you
But I forgot that you are the sun.
Your voice is true and deep
And I want to wrap myself in the warmth of your words.
"I love you" tastes like the strawberry jam
They are selling from the cracked glass jars
Carefully placed on the crooked table-
It seems a little silly
And sounds a little creaky
But from across the black hot parking lot,
It looks like a secret between two smiling mouths.

Two Years

"Tomorrow I am going to make an appointment with a counselor". I penned this in my journal almost exactly two years ago. I remember this moment well. I was living in the dorms, it was a late week night and my roommate was in her loft, exhaling heavily indicating that she was deep into sleep. I was suppressing sobs and feeling helpless. This was a low point in my life, although I can't quite remember why. I had spent the early evening walking around alone in the rain, with my hood up and my heart heavy as I passed smiling faces, laughing and running together to someplace dry and warm. There have been a lot of similar moments since that one, wet and cold. Standing, walking, biking, driving alone - feeling like I'm standing behind some fogged up, murky window looking out at bright, crisp, and clear happiness. "Simple and happy - what is that, and will I ever have it?" Something else that has appeared in my journal over and over.

What happened after that night of dark thoughts and hopeless feelings? Why did I never make that appointment? I can't quite remember the next morning. I imagine myself waking up to the natural light of the sun, enjoying the crunch of snow under my boots while wrapped up to my neck in warmth, eating a warm and filling breakfast, chatting with my friends, and convincing myself that I was okay. I wonder how many times I've done that over the last two years?

I am often times frightened of my own dark thoughts. They are starting to swallow me whole, chewing up and spitting back out my relationships and future. When I reflect back on my writings, I am shocked at how long it took me to connect the dots. Denial is a powerful, blinding thing - but now it's time to take back my happiness and whatever else has run away since then.

Loving You...In Your Depressive State

What happened to your eyes?
They've gone away for a while.
Words pour from my mouth excitedly
In anticipation of seeing you again.
But my face is clean, cold glass to you
And my words are rocks falling hard.
"I love you", I say, tender and quiet.
You mirror my words but the sound is muffled
Because I'm watching the shadow loom over your face
I'm watching the heaviness weigh you to the ground.
I grab at your hands but your veins turn black
And I watch in horror as the poison trickles downwards,
Thick and hot.
I'm trying to breathe you in,
But when you exhale ash fills my mouth.
I choke on my words trying to find you
But I can hear the bones in us both grating to dust.
What happened to your eyes?
I used to feel you moving.
I can't remember the last time you've stirred.

Re: My Need to Write More

Time since I've written anything: weeks.
Time since I've written here: days.

My need for writing is growing stronger than ever. Sometimes I feel like I ache for it. I complaint about my time restraints: no time to myself, no time to relax, not seeing my boyfriend for seven consecutive days. But I do manage to find time for things that won't ever matter in the long run. I clock seconds and minutes just scrolling mindlessly, quickly, through social media in intermittent spurts. It's time to give that up, save those precious seconds of my day, for writing and releasing myself with my words.

Starting now.

I Need To Let This Out

I need to let this out (I'd like to scream it at the top of the tallest mountain, but I'll take what I can get): I am very much in love with the most genuine, considerate, and intelligent person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I've never wanted a person to be a part of my future more. And now, for some self meditation and some late night yoga. I'll be back soon, blogger. It's been a while, but I'm still here. Just quiet.

Commitment

While distracted by the trials of everyday life, I grew. I've grown into someone suddenly sure of things. Mostly sure, at least. I am happy about this. I am tired of loud parties and possibilities for affection from handsome strangers in dark corners. The dark corners now seem more bleak than mysterious and the handsome strangers now seem more daunting than exciting. I've mapped a road in my head and I as I run my fingers over the skin of this map, I trace things I desire in a partner: intelligence, humor, fair taste, those things that everyone lists because they feel that it is safe. "Is this me?", I wonder from the corner of the flashing lights and the sweating bodies and the stale smell of beer. How pathetic it was to have an internal relationship crisis in the middle of a party. I was sick of it and I was tired and I wanted to lie down. I wanted to fall asleep at 10 pm so that I could wake up early to the smell of coffee and feel the sun warming the sheets of my bed as I read before work or school or responsibilities. I went from needing attention from men I barely knew to having enough confidence in myself to let it be and move on. I wanted to prepare for the next part of my life.

I have been seeing Kevin for three months. And I'm not sure how to talk to people about it. Three months ago I was alone (for the most part) and denying any desire for anything serious. "What I'm serious about is my education", I would tell myself. In my mind, a relationship and my schooling could not co-exist. That's what I would tell myself. Now that I am waist-deep in this thing, this wonderful, unbelievably comfortable thing, I wonder why I was trying so hard to push away what I never knew was coming. Is it healthy to force something when you're too bothered to invest or even care? No, of course not. But I'm ecstatic that this person came marching so unexpectedly into my life. Men have come and gone in the past few months, and I want so desperately to articulate how much Kevin means to me compared to all the others (for a start, he makes me refer to everyone else I've ever felt anything for as just "others"). I still remember the day we met so clearly. He's gone from the stranger across from me at the coffee shop, passionately scribbling notes about his students, to the man humming Etta James in his boxers while making me breakfast. He holds his cat close to his chest when he's reading and he starts my car before I leave while I'm still in bed. He is attentive and neat and considerate. He orders extra pizza when he knows my friends will be around. He wants more than what the world can provide him at ease and he wants to make changes. He is passionate about the political state of the world and wants to write things, eye-opening things. He inspires and pushes me to write more myself. We read in bed together. We discuss the news together. I have spent the last four days straight living with him in his apartment. This is more time than I've ever spent with anyone. Even sleep has become something that we share, something that's no longer just my own.

I'm trickling down a path of excitement and anxiousness that makes my stomach lurch. I care for him greatly and have finally put myself in a place that has made me vulnerable. I'm proud of myself for finally taking a step forward, but everyone bone in my body is begging my to inch back. It's his move and I'm desperately hoping we begin to walk in place.