September 25, 2019
‘no one has joined your call’
Have you ever experienced a moment of foreshadowing in your own life and recognized it as it happens? I know one would argue that it’s just your present mind projecting your current feeling onto a past moment but sometimes I am not so sure. Recently I had this kind of moment. I had a moment that was so acutely painful I still think of it every day. Some days it feels like the moment never ended.
I am convinced we all know so much of ourselves but it remains dormant behind our consciousness. Every once and a while though it forces through. Our true feelings, our pain, it breaks through our defensive. In a way I write to keep my feelings and thoughts present in the forefront in fear of them falling back into the floorboards of my consciousness. I am only afraid of losing what I love or becoming unaligned with the part of me that I love yet even with all the agonizing I am still gullible. I believe even if it burns and I burn myself even if I still believe. I think this moment was a realization of my willingness to sacrifice and how it may be the reason I so often sacrifice myself.
I had just spent the night with the person I care for most and we both knew we shouldn’t even be there.. or that others wouldn’t want us there. Every time we see each other there’s this dread and fascination. You’re still here. It is both a beautiful and painful moment every time I see them again. Because they live, it feels as though a very coveted part of me still lives as well. Unfortunately, as I see some part of them dying, becoming more crippled, some part of me begins to tremble along with them. It’s as though our alignment creates this potential that would strike fear in anyone. I talk about them so often but it never seems to resonate. It’s as though people can’t relate for a reason. I don’t think many have felt anything close to what only one person has made me feel. With that being said the night remained like us, tender yet intoxicating as it always has been and still is, even just to think about. I remember at the start, as they walked up to my door there was the same fear. What if they’re different? What if they don’t understand me anymore? What if I don’t understand them anymore? Yet as they walked inside and sat next to me our related qualities came through once again. They bleed through these faces and acts we bear in hopes of never blending again. Yet that blends us too. Our fear of our interest in each other makes us like each other. That night forced us to examine this paradigm and it’s no wonder we ended up wretched and odd by dawn.
They immediately began to lie, use, and speak arrogantly in front of me yet I was courageous enough to challenge them. Yet as they witnessed me in pain, as they saw their remarks crushing me they could only get anxious. They never quite understood that I was never asking them to say something that fixes my pain or to even offer a solution. I only ever wanted them to stay because they comfort me, they make me feel human and that is enough to perpetuate the confidence I need to continue fighting for myself and I am not referring to my physical form. I am instead referring to my set of beliefs, my interests, my movies and music and all the things that I am judged for. That I don’t always feel confident in. They just by existing remind me that these parts of myself are still viable… the most viable.
I watched them fall into their own insecurity that night just as I did every night before. It’s always, I am too this, too that… are they better… are they what you really want? I never really cared to entertain their hideous claims because none of it made sense to me. If you have my head you will always have my heart and you will always have my body. That is what is incredible about them… they were my friend for a long time before they were this explosive form of ecstasy my soul could swallow, therefore I loved them because I loved their head, their soul. I didn’t want to arouse or be aroused by them so much that I then fell in love with their head. That’s why when our love would begin to falter it would never actually fail. In times of uncertainty we retreated to our friendship to contend. Our love would soon reemerge once again and we would always be okay.
Later that night I had to leave to do something, something for them, something I hated, but I still did it because I wanted to sacrifice in hopes that they would do the same for me. As I rushed back they had texted me saying they loved me and missed me. It always felt like we were thinking the same thing at the same time. I finally returned, happy to see them sitting there. We spent the remainder of the night just being us. Talking for hours, sharing interests, sharing confusion. Yet it is fun. I am facing the person I should fear and it is only fun. Unfortunately, as the night grew long the reality of our situation only grew more real. Our trepidation would rear its head every time we would break from a kiss and look to the windows that revealed the sight of a rising sun. When the day comes we would have to part. We can get away with these moments in the dark, we can be ourselves here, yet in the light of day we have to retreat to the roles of two people who don’t love each other anymore. Roles that leave us enchained in a lie. We did still love each other and that’s why we would always look away from the sun and back at each other. We ignored the looming threat because the threat of missing these moments always seemed to scare us more.
Even when the sun was finally up we couldn’t seem to put ourselves to bed. If we can be together, we will and so we did. Soon however the pressure grew fierce and we began to panic as we tried to erase the night by erasing the proof. We walked around anxiously fixing everything back into its right place. It was finally late in the morning and we had to rest. I remember making sure they would be absolutely comfortable in my small bed. They soon began to snore so I carefully moved each pillow and blanket onto the floor. I did so cautiously in fear of waking them up. I didn’t care that they were going to get the better sleep or that I was on the floor. It was enough to have them there.
I awoke the next morning on the floor in confusion. I often forget that I chose to sleep elsewhere. I then sat up and tried to peak over the end of the bed to see them. I couldn’t see anything. I then brought my arm up to the bed and began maneuvering my hand through sheets and blankets. I still didn’t feel them. My hand began to move quicker and more anxiously as I desperately searched for any feeling of them. I then thought to myself that they probably left in the night… because that is what they always do, they leave. I felt an excruciation that only ended when I finally felt their leg. All my anxiety fell into ease as I stood up and saw them sleeping in peace. My heart swelled as I crawled into bed to lay next to them. This was always my favorite part of our time together. Waking them up. Whether it be gentle pokes or the brushing of their cheeks and face. I loved watching their resting lids open to reveal their big, tender eyes. I think they loved waking me too, in fact I know they did. I was always a bit more testy in the morning. They never cared though.
The first thing they said after their eyes opened was that they were scared. They said it in a voice so gentle and endearing that I wasn’t sure if they said it that way naturally or if they were just trying to sound sweet. I found it adorable either way. We then laid tightly in each other’s grip. There’s something so special about waking up to the one you love and we never failed to appreciate it. Unfortunately we were shaken into action by the sight of the sun once again. We knew we had to part and that we did.
That was one of the last times I saw them and it hurts to reflect on because I think I already felt what I feel and know now. It was another night of me sacrificing in hopes they wouldn’t routinely flee to their fear. I may have saw them there and felt relief but something was always fleeing in their mind. I could see it. I can still see it now as I watch them move on. I can always see their fear, their insecurity.
I am now trying to move on myself but every moment is just an escape from the excruciation that always seems to return. It’s like the moment I couldn’t find their leg except now it is gone and I am living, standing and breathing in my worst fear. I am in agony almost every moment because I am afraid emotionally I will go searching for them forever, just as my hand searched for their leg. Even with the knowledge of their callousness, I can’t shake them. Even worse I am made a fool by both their unwillingness to respect me as we part and everyone who watches and criticizes the way in which I feel. It’s only a relationship, they weren’t that great, or you’re better, they’re worse. I am so tired of hearing people tell me what to feel. People telling us what to feel has always crippled us and it is still crippling me.
People continue to point out how my writing is so often about them but I can only wonder what people expect. If I can’t have the person god forbid I document the memories that will become harder and harder to recollect with time. Sometimes I wonder if all these people who critique my love for them or love itself have ever truly met someone who makes them feel as if their soul were sliced into two. I hear all this talk of opposites and I don’t understand. Everyone says I need to find someone opposite of me and I can only roll my eyes. Gender creates enough variation to me. I will always be fascinated by a male version of my perspective. It is inspiring because it fills in the gaps. I will never be a man, a man can never be a woman. There’s this envy on both sides that almost always manifests into hatred or contempt for one another. Women often want men’s physical strength or rigid demeanor. Men often want the liberty of being supported without critique. Both men and women are privileged but I don’t believe there is a greater emotional privilege than feeling the union that is a man and a woman as partners.
I have spent my whole life bewildered, terrified and sometimes even disgusted by men… so much so I never planned on loving one at all. I made no plans of a relationship, a marriage or a child but then a man came along that enchanted me enough to face that fear. I was then confronted with the most beautiful truth. They are not the enemy and they offer insights that we need. Some days are better or easier for the woman, some days better or easier for the man. Therefore men and women need each other.
In some ways they actually were my opposite. They were much bigger, tanner, taller, more positive in some ways, while I was pale, half their size and so sad so much of the time. I remember us often standing next to each other in mirrors and feeling perplexed by what we saw. It’s like seeing yourself, your thoughts projected onto another, not just any other though… the other you can never be. The most opposite force in nature then becomes something you long to have instead of something you long to detest or run from. I am so afraid of losing not only the male version of myself but a version of myself that I was so inspired by. I loved someone who was smart in ways I wasn’t, strong in instances I couldn’t be therefore I was always becoming a wiser, more resilient version of myself.
I just miss them to the point of constant ache yet I am afraid of losing that ache out of fear of our memories leaving even quicker or the fear of me becoming something I no longer believe in. I fear most of all who they will grow into without me. They can profusely list the things they hate, or rather want to hate about me but the truth remains I did so much to make them happy. More so, I believe desperately in the part of themselves that they want to bury. I look at their friends and family and I want to scream a little because I don’t think anyone sees what I see or they simply don’t want to acknowledge it. I am just so afraid that they’ll conform to the standard being forced upon them, a standard that isn’t aligned with who they really are. I am so afraid that those around them will continue to force them into suppressing their true goals or passions. That they themselves will continue to suppress qualities because it is too different, too hard to embrace one’s authentic self.
As bold as they are I have watched them topple into versions of themselves that they secretly resented because it was what others wanted. In fact, I feel their whole life they have had to fight for the right to stand in the totality of their true personality. More than anything, I am scared they’ll continue to dull their anxiety by turning to drugs and equally caustic people. I guess I sacrificed several years of my life because I wanted to at least procrastinate the inevitable. Even if we weren’t going to work, even if they were going to continue to hurt me I at least wanted to be there as a reminder of that side of themselves. I truly felt as if I could lose them and accept it as long as I knew they were in a good place and the only place I feel is good for them is somewhere passionate.
One of the last things they said to me was that we were simply too passionate and that is why we do not work. I disagree. We do not work because they do not treat me well. Our passion kept us together and in a way it keeps both of us alive. There are many people who can exist simply, somewhere safe. I don’t believe either of us could ever be that way. Especially him. I recall often having to shush him because he couldn’t stop talking. Every time I saw him he’d relieve himself of all the movies, music, or shows he was currently interested in. Sometimes I felt overwhelmed by how zealous he was. I even wondered if he had anyone to talk to about these things because it truly felt as if he was talking about them for the first time every time. Saddest of all, the excessive chatter was something I often resented, felt vexed by, now I miss it so much. Even the annoying things become endearing once you know that you can absolutely not have them back.
I always hoped they would pursue their talents, their dreams and I never worried about losing them to their dreams because it would be enough to know that they are happy and alive. I just know, I know more than anything that people like them have to follow their heart, their true self or they will simply destroy themselves otherwise. I hope they will relieve themselves of their destructive behavior and friends and come to realize this all soon so I can breathe for once. I would give anything to make them confident in themselves, their potential, their flaws and all the little idiosyncrasies in between that I grew to love more and more each day, unfortunately I am no longer in that position. I can only hope the memory of me and my willingness to be confident in myself especially in ways they never were will be enough to inspire them back to themselves over and over again. I only want the best of them to finally flourish even if I am not fortunate enough to see it.
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