cleaning out my closet.

i found these three documents saved on my notepad, and i felt like i needed to share them; to kind of get them off my plate. their dates are unsure, along with some of the content matter, and even people talked about. but i loved them, none the less. although, i learned something about myself; about my writing. i am only capable of writing about one thing. hurt.


"there was something about the way he touched me; the way he looked at me. i knew better than to stay with him. i knew, although i fought tooth and nail to deny it, that someone else could look and touch me the same way one day. eventually. after much time and meditation, someone else's lips could come to rest against mine. someone else's veins could lie exactly parallel with mine in the moonlight. that the scent of someone else could someday linger on my pillowcase; on my skin, the exact way that his did for that long year. i knew that i would love again. i was not destined for solitude, i would eventually find another. as would he. and i am sure he would love that girl as much as he was capable of loving her. and i would love a different boy all the same. but that is the problem, you see. i would not be capable of loving someone with the intensity and the passion that i loved him. ever."


"i slowly took my hair down. one bobby-pin at a time. removed my pearl earrings and stripped my eyes of their black mascara. i shed my boots, and my white lace dress hit the floor next. i was alone. but i was used to this. used to planning my nights around an unreliable source. used to bending the rules just for an insignificant chance to talk; to kiss. used to waiting for hours for the screen on my cell phone to flicker a little light; a little hope. music with far-too-relatable lyrics softly flitted through the air. and tears, the same tears i had cried a hundred times, ran down my cheeks and spotted the ground. i was alone. had been alone. for months. but nobody knew it. nobody would have ever suspected i was doing this. torturing myself. trying to hold onto something that i knew couldn't make it past may. something that began to unravel months ago. we were strong, like steel. nothing could stop us. not even their wicked schemes. but the cruel, outside world threw doubts and fears like buckets of water. slowly, but surely, we began to rust. and tonight, the rust felt heavier than normal; thick. as thick as the regretful words that were resting on the tip of my tongue. i saw it coming. really, i did. but i had spent too many daydreams trying to convince myself it was never going to happen. that our steel would never crack, wither, brake. so tonight, i will sleep alone. alone, and unsure. unsure what would have happened. but i will never know. i had to leave. i had to stop the insanity that comes along with waiting for this. waiting… waiting… waiting… no more. goodbye." 

"he was italian, there was no doubt about it. his striking features and dark skin sang like the streets of verona. i didn't know what to do as i lay on the concrete staring up at him, knowing that i looked like an utter fool. i felt a sharp pain in my knee cap, and knew immediately i had hurt myself. i blinked a couple of times before i took his outstretched hand. it was rough, course, and so very unfamiliar. something stirred inside of my veins. something that i had not felt in a long time. usually, when i am alone on a summer's day, i think about nothing except him. scenes of the nights we spent alone, doing things we shouldn't have ripped at my memory, and cut at my once innocent mind like scissors. the seamless and beautifully true words that he had spoken a hundred and a half times played themselves back like a broken record. it was painful. it had been painful. up until now. up until this very instant when his deep brown eyes met mine. and his leather-like fingers linked themselves into mine like a perfect puzzle. all of the thoughts of him, good and bad, vanished. is this what i had been waiting for for so long? yet in the same breath, is this what i had been running from for so long? the desire to have another seemed like a hauntingly foreign concept, but i had a strange, enticing feeling that it was exactly what i was looking for."

1 comment: