She thought the stars radiated from your eyes.

And every laugh she could elicit from that beautiful mouth—perfection.

Your arms held the world, and she was included in that.

It was everything she could have hoped for,

dreamed for,

wished for.

…

And maybe that was the problem.

She saw your flaws,

accepted them,

loved them,

never ever once tried to change them.

Because isn’t that what love is?

Isn’t that what we’re taught?

—To love is to accept.  To love is to cherish, to care for, to be, in simple terms, selfless.

Love is

this

and that

and all of the above.

…

It’s a checklist.

We go down the line, and

tick,

tick,

tick

—mark the things they have and ignore the ones they don’t.

Because,

love can save and withstand and strengthen.

It does not falter.  It does not waiver.

It never

ever

gives up.

…

And no,

she did not love you.

Not yet.

But, she wanted to.

Not out of desperation or loneliness.

It was nothing complicated.

There was no hidden agenda,

no person from the past she wanted to forget.

She just knew

that love

was the next

natural

step.

…

She’d read the books.

She’d seen the movies.

She’d listened to the songs.

She knew what love was supposed to feel like.

She knew what love was supposed to look like.

She knew what love was supposed to sound like.

…

It felt like

you

and looked like 

you

and sounded like

you.

…

And she wasn’t stupid.

She didn’t let you know that.

Not until

the very end.

But maybe

she should have been stupid.

Maybe she should have let you know.

Maybe she shouldn’t have listened to those songs or read those books.

Maybe she should have just been

honest

with herself.

…

Because love is not all-accepting.

It is not selfless.

It is not this

or that

or all of the above.

…

It is parts,

and it is messy.

It is being half empty,

never half full.

It is having everything,

but losing

more.

It is compromise,

and being scared

together.

…

We weren’t taught that.

No one told us how broken it was.

No one told us that stars don’t really radiate from anyone’s eyes.

Or that laughter is temporary.

No one said,

he never said,

that arms become tired

and weak.

and sometimes,

they let go.

even if they don’t want to.

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I dreamt about you again.

And as hard as it is to explain in words,

I will do my best to try.

…

I dreamt about you

in a place where we were not hurt

by circumstances

or time

and especially not by each other.

…

I dreamt about you,

and we were not in love— never in love.

We didn’t have those feelings that twist and turn and torment late in the night.

We didn’t have those feelings— 

not about other people

and not about each other.

…

I dreamt about you

and I did not crave your body—not your eyes

or your smile

and especially not your hands that kept me sane and safe and worry-free.

…

I dreamt about you

in a place

where we were not in love

and could never be in love.

…

And while that seems like the worst possible thing imaginable,

it was painless.

We weren’t in love, and could never be.

Not in my dreams.

…

We weren’t in love,

but we did love

—in a way that you love your best friend

or the family pet that has grown up and grown old by your side;

in a way that seems so hard to explain, but so easy to show

…

I dreamt about you again

and when I woke

it hurt

over

and

over.

Because I knew

while you could exist alone,

the love I dreamt

could not.

// the thing about these things//

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I wish

I lived in a place

where I could make beautiful things.

where people who were good, were good not for some hidden motive

but because they loved

and were not afraid.

where people who worked hard

got everything they deserved.

and where people who did not,

got what they deserved too.

.

But most of all,

I wish

for a place

where we don’t hurt.

where people don’t steal or lie or cheat

or hold more power over others.

.

where I could fall in love,

and be perfectly

really

completely fine

with falling

.

So, it’s kind of terrible,

having conflicting emotions.

Like,

I don’t feel like I have the right to feel jealous or unworthy or annoyed.

But then again, everyone has the right to feel however they damn well please.

So, I’m caught between having these emotions,

and having this gnawing feeling that I don’t deserve to or have the right to because…

a) we are not friends

b) i gave up on this a long time ago

c) i should be focusing my energy on more worthwhile things and people

it’s not a full-blown feeling or anything,

but that inkling is what worries me.

and of course only I would worry about being worried.  But I am and I do and this is what it is.

Because inklings spread, and no matter how much tide-to-go I have, it’s still there and apparent.  I don’t want to start off this school year with this feeling pulling me apart.

// Forgiveness//

is something that doesn’t come easily for me, or a lot of people for that matter.

But I learn to forgive, not because they deserve it, but because I do.

Anger and sadness envelopes you in this thick skin that you can’t remove and you don’t really know how it got there in the first place.  All you know is that it’s there, and it has become quite burdensome to keep it maintained.

So we forgive, to have a chance at rebuilding ourselves and finding who we really are.

People like to say that they forgive, but they don’t forget.

And in a lot of ways, that’s true for me.  And it is good.  If we forgot things, we would never learn from them or grow from them or pass on our knowledge to the less fortunate souls who are about to undertake the exact same, or similar, things we had.

But in some ways, it’s a little naive to claim people forgive and not forget.  It implies ease. With forgiveness, all is saved and we can magically move on with our lives.  And we don’t forget, so automatically, we can totally comprehend every mistake we have ever made.  And goodness knows, that since we don’t forget those things, we won’t ever make those mistakes again.

But, we know that isn’t true.  That would be ridiculous.  People don’t learn things that easily.

Forgiveness isn’t some all-saving path that suddenly releases the anger within.  It doesn’t completely turn you into a different person that knows exactly what you want out of life.

It’s much more difficult and beautiful than that.  Because when we try to forgive someone, we aren’t just forgiving the individual we think is at fault.  We’re also forgiving ourselves, for falling into such a dimly planned trap, so to speak.  We’re forgiving ourselves for not really looking out for our best interests.  And we are forgiving ourselves because we know, that despite whatever hard times have befallen us, we do deserve better.  We all do.

when my mind wanders to thoughts of you—and yes, it still does—my first instinct is to snap back, to find my way back to real life, where you aren’t included.

but sometimes, often times, I linger a while.  

I grasp my right hand with my left and try to remember how it felt with you there.

I retrace the tips of your fingers against my forearm and try to recall how you stumbled across those words that changed everything.  the first time and the last.

and I remember that you changed things—that I had a choice, but I didn’t take it—that I let you make your own moves and didn’t force anything.

I remember that I thought you wouldn’t hurt me because we knew hurt too well to make someone else feel that way.

and when I linger a little too long, and my eyes water, not from wearing my contacts too long or from dust finding its way to my tear ducts, I emerse myself in other feelings and thoughts, in hopes that it’ll drive you away.

It stopped becoming force of habit a while ago.  It comes naturally now.

It’s become a sort of second nature to chastise myself if I revisit those places too often.

And it has become too confusing, to escape reality by visiting those memories that bring those feelings back, and to then escape those feelings and memories by plunging into something deeper.

The only true escape I can find now is across the way.  I dip my feet in and find that it’s too cold, but I’m too afraid to go back, so I jump in.

And I face my fears because even though it’s cold and icy and dark at first, I become accustomed to such, and slowly, it isn’t scary anymore.

I am alone, completely.  But I am not afraid.

I am at peace because I know that no matter how long it takes, with every end, comes a new beginning.

So I push myself and continue on, stroke after stroke, breath after breath, until I can feel my heart racing so hard that I know for a fact that I am alive.  Full of emotion and adrenaline and completely, finally alive.

// welp this is dumb.//

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