I miss you, but only when you’re gone. Otherwise, it’s just another day. Another day spent wondering, hoping, wishing, even, why can’t I feel this way about you when you’re here?
I cry for the things, the things I cannot change, I cry for these reasons and these reasons alone.
Why? I don’t know.
All the things I wanna change are all the reasons I’m deeply ashamed. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry it’s still the same.
Hold my hand while I hold my breath, please hold me, just hold ME. Hang on to me for the times I forget.
These tears seem to fuel you. Yeah, you grow on that. And I lose a little more of myself every day.
Sometime, in 2001
If it’s true that one makes their own happiness, what the hell did I do to myself for years?
Disullusions come and stay, giving me a (false) sense of security, this I know. I know if I don’t fall for it again I’d be wiser. Better off, free to be someone I neither have the guts to be nor someone my own family won’t recognize.
Have I been so foolish I haven’t seen the vast space in front of me? Yes. I was. I got tired of toeing the line, making peace just so everyone else would be happy, and that’s where I lost myself. Making peace did me no good, it made me bitter, hateful, at times, even wildly cynical.
Someone opened my eyes. God knows my brother has preached at me for years upon years! When I finally came around to see his view I was so far gone it shocked him. Granted, he understood, but surprised at the amount of hate I swallowed. I had to let go.
Every day that went by without a sound, I began to get stronger. Until the day it crumbled. It fell away so fast it scared me. Slowly, I started rebuilding. Started to look around with new eyes, even. What works for one can be easily extrapolated and converted for another. Did I think I could? Was it possible?
Just like the first time, this timing wasn’t my choice either. That sea of despair beckoned me like the sweet song of an illicit lover. And too, I let myself feel all of the pain, night after night, sometimes in the days between, let it wash me clean.
I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t still hurt. It does, but I am armed with the knowledge it always will. The grief will change it’s shape but it will remain. The loops may break but my heart holds fast.