Each one, a family
Each one, a memory
Every one a possibility
Only, not for me
The people behind those lights
I will never meet
The moments that they make
Will never require me to be complete
And I’ve been told so many times
Not to make so much of little things
But it strikes me in its tragedy
And the tears take off with failing wings.
I told myself that I was more together
But all this time I’ve just been damaged
And every time I pulled away
I claimed was so as not to end up bandaged,
Not realizing that only pain
Could be the reason that I sit here ravaged
By a fear that will not go away
Of the loneliness I’ve barely managed.
It was your birthday today
And I merely closed my eyes
Everything I ought to say
Dismissed with “nevermind”
All the games we used to play
Exchanged for worries and white lies
And if we were friends again someday
I don’t know what you’d find.
I’ve been dreaming of you again:
My bloodless sister, my long-lost friend.
We used to be as thick as thieves,
Until stealing away became my trend.
I’d caught anger and fallen ill;
And thinking quarantine was best,
I shut you out until you caught a chill
And decided to leave me to my rest.
But now I see you in my dreams
And in them, we are friends again;
But in waking up, I recall the years,
And I only want to sleep again.
Dear… Well, you.
So, you’ve been having a weird time lately. You had a boyfriend. For like a week. Realized you fell short of your own ideals, and weren’t actually ready for that kind of relationship. Yes: it turns out that you’re really not so different from everyone else. You, too, act out in anger and frustration. You, too, can let fear and loneliness drive you.
But that’s not such a terrible realization.
You got to talk to your sister because of it. She called you out, and you were glad of it. You get so tired of the hiding; It’s nice to speak honestly about things. You even talked with Mom a little. And you got to spend a little time with someone outside your family. You expected all of the worst things when you realized what you had to tell him; but he actually surprised you. Perhaps he’ll continue to. Perhaps not. But you’re thankful anyway.
It made you think of things that make you cry; Friendships lost because of your own foolishness. It happened so slow and quiet. They still live right next door, and yet they feel a world away. How can you ask their forgiveness? How can you pretend you’re anything more than a wreck of a person? You don’t feel you can. You’ve given what signals you know how to, in the past, hoping that maybe they’ll catch on and reach back. But they have their own lives. You’re trying to accept that. You wonder if maybe you should just get over it and move on. But they’re still like family to you.
Your sister has said that everyone has their own lives, and that yours and theirs aren’t mutually exclusive. Believing that can be hard. There’s still the thought that you’re more than you think you are — that you’re actually worse. Like maybe you’re a serial killer in the making. You’re pretty sure you’ve scared your sister with comments like that before; With doubts in your own sanity, nonchalant remarks of things you worry might be serious. But you’re not sure what else to do.
But come, if the past month or two has taught you anything, it’s that you need to learn to look beyond all the doom and gloom. You’re capable of more than you realize. And while staying in your head may seem safer, what’s in your head will never surprise you. You will always be alone.
And as it turns out, you don’t like that so much.
So, with much love
I swear I’m trying not to cry,
But it comes every time I think of you;
I keep asking myself why:
It turns out I’m a traitor, but a loyal one too.
I wonder if you think of me,
Or if you’ve traded your stray for a much better breed;
One that stays where you can see
And isn’t prone to making of a friendship lost, a need.
I don’t know if you feel like I do;
If you’re just waiting for an overture to come.
But I’ve given what little I know how to,
And still it seems our friendship’s done.
I believe in happy endings;
But I think this story might not end that way.
Sometimes there’s an inevitable end to things
That’s neither good nor bad, but just a sad cessation of yesterday.
Sorry again for my scarcity; I fear that may very well continue. I’m eager not to slip as deep into my wallowing as before, but when I try sitting down to write with positivity in mind, I immediately go blank. The closest I can often get to positivity, it seems, is a lack of negativity. Which frequently translates to silence.
In this case, I still may not have made it into the Sunshine & Rainbows department, but honest sadness is different from giving in to frustration, and this was very much on my mind.
Sorry yet again for posts unread, and comments neglected; my mind has been elsewhere. Don’t let that make you think I do not notice, or do not care; I notice your kindness, and care for your thoughts. My own thoughts, however, are not always suited to the challenge of being revealed, and thus I leave things for another day…
I’ve looked so long for a prince,
But I was longing for a friend;
I’ve watched the sun set from my tower,
But I was watching for a beginning, not an end.
I’ve been waiting for someone to throw me a rope,
But what I wanted was someone waiting for me to climb down;
I’ve been wishing for someone to make me smile,
But my best wish is for someone to be there even when I frown.
I don’t know how to say it all the time.
Sometimes I’m yours — but sometimes I’m mine;
And I wish that that could just be fine…
But I’m afraid you’ll see that it’s a crime.
There is a door to my heart;
But if another does not start,
And keep knocking when it seems I’ve dozed,
Then I opt to leave it closed.
I wonder, if you saw me now,
If there’s anything you’d recognize:
It’s been so very long
Since I’ve looked you in the eyes…
I don’t even recognize myself sometimes.
Am I still the same little girl you knew?
Or have I darkened through and through?
Could you ever care like you used to,
For the one who didn’t seem to care enough to be true?
Or, would it be only a chore to you?
I wonder now if it was pity;
Years of friendship born of a sense of duty.
Maybe this is something you could see;
Maybe even then, the signs of what’s inside me
Introduced themselves to you as some instinct — maybe.
Or maybe, this is just life
Where some people move along
And others still are hanging on
To the memories that become the saddest song,
And wind up buried like the deepest knife.