I felt the craving in the roots of my teeth, in the roots of my hair. The craving to be awake, to run and not let my lungs or my ankles stop me. The prickling pull of sleep pressed into my right eyelid heavily, churned and begged for my fist to rub and rub and rub. The greatest relief is always itching your eye until it feels like your eyeball will be smashed into jelly.
I caressed the cold air by arching my back against it as it slowly creeped into my window. A cold breeze, the smell of the air filtering in through the screen the sweetest smell I know besides that of human skin. I miss smelling the skin of an arm slung over my shoulders in the morning, but tonight I did not miss any person who has held me in that way. I only missed their smell.
In the book I just finished, I knew the twist ending from page one. I knew she was dead the whole time and I waited for the twist to unfurl itself so the rest of the reading world would catch up. In the same way, I knew he would cheat from the first flick of his tongue against my ear lobe. In the same way I know that summer will blessedly melt to fall in what feels like no time at all.
Everything evaporates slowly in an unseasonably warm spring. Firetrucks aren't as red as they once were. Pain isn't nearly as incapsulating in the physical realm. But the pain of the tattoo gun pressing against your cerebellum is what traps you and makes you scream. They'll all leave eventually. They'll leave and you'll be stuck here, glowing finally but glowing alone. You're a neon sign with one letter flashing in helpless murder of a perfect word. Closed becomes close. Close becomes lose. It's all breaking apart just as it's coming together. Syntax and diction are crawling under your nailbeds and what are you doing instead? You nap and you cry, you drink and you fuck. You scream, you laugh, you finally leave your bed just as everyone else heads home. He was British and he wanted you. He was British and you left him standing on a street corner with your dreams clawing at his belt buckle. Home alone on the kitchen floor, that small ice cream drip from last week is sitting right beneath your cheek but you're too drunk to care. This warm spring took all of the fight right out of you. What's left? That lonely drip of ice cream on the unwashed kitchen floor. That smell of him dusted on your clothes. The bloody hope that all this isn't for nothing.
I haven't slept in days anticipating your arrival.
You'll be home in a few short sleeps and then where will we be? I think back on us and all we have seen and said and dreamed and lost. That night years ago, the soft April snow, the kiss that never was. In your letters you said it should have been me in high school. You should have kissed me that night. You shouldn't have left even though you had to. I tried to stay neutral because in all honesty, you scare me.
You scare me. You take all of the breath from these hollow lungs.
My best friend, my brother, a boy that I loved to distraction. A boy whose name still splinters in my heart. A boy I've been able to hide from for two years, but now here you come. A boy I loved simultaneously with another boy. A boy I needed and need.
Oh god, what will happen? I can see everything in our past so so clearly. I can see it projected onto the snow where I always see you.
Do you remember the nights in the auditorium? Driving me to that boy's house who hurt me and flashing your lights in his window? Do you remember playing war on my porch? Do you remember my tears falling on that porch?
I haven't slept in three days. I feel like I'm driving myself crazy. This situation has been a struggle, as to be expected.
I was talking with my mom about the events I last wrote about. She looked at me sheepishly and said "I hate making this situation about myself but... maybe she passed so that when others pass, she's there to lead the way. If she's there waiting to guide them, I'll be less sad about their loss. Is that horrible? I don't want this to be about me."
But we have to process death this way. We can never know the grand reasons, if any, for why people pass from this world. All we can do is make their passing meaningful for ourselves. We process things and internalize events in our own ways. We cope differently and that is beautiful.
Tonight, I talked with my dear friend Dixie, who is also a therapist. I told her that through all this, I have felt like I've really learned about myself and my observational focuses. This was a wake up call. It made me get brave. It's also driven me insane. It's made me lose sleep and pray and plead for connection. I said that I hated that I was making this situation about my love life and my messy mind. I said that it felt weird, that I wasn't normal. She said it was completely normal.
For whatever reason, every moment I witnessed of this past weekend was cloaked in connection. I watched my grandfather with my grandmother. I saw her friends saying goodbye. I noticed couples linking hands even through personal hardships. Some situations are bigger than every day fights. Sometimes all you can do is screw the past, move forward, clasp hands and share a heartbeat.
That is what I've learned.
I'm sick of feeding off of my own doubts. About myself. About who I love. About things I will never have control over. I want to live my life in love and passionate embraces. I want my late nights to be full of liquid words spilling onto a page and shared discussions about every little thing.
I love who I love. Screw opinions from others. I'm not afraid of second chances. I'm not afraid of him. I'm wary of being caused pain, but I'm done staying awake hour upon hour feeling haunted by fears and doubts.
I'm not afraid of being attached. Acting unfeeling and convincing yourself that you are worthless or a bad person doesn't make you tough. It makes you a coward. I refuse to be anything but brave. I refuse to pretend my feelings don't exist.
I want my mind to shut down for a few days, but sadly I'll never get that wish. But you know what? I can turn those gears into a powerful machine that will move mountains and shatter barriers. I'll scream at the top of my lungs. I'll dance my ass off. I'll cry until I can't breathe. I'll feel with every atom I am made of.
Because life is so short. And this world is so beautiful. And love is so pure.
