Category Archives: blog post

“foolish,” you’ll say, and I’ll agree

And someday we’ll find ourselves in different places, in different homes, with different lovers and we’ll decide to reconnect. Maybe we’ll see each other on the street, or someone will mention something that reminds us of each other, and we’ll reach out and we’ll reconnect.

You’ll tell me about how you’re happier now than you ever thought you could be. I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to and you’ll listen. We’ll make jokes and remember what it was like when we were once so close. We’ll wonder why we ever drifted apart, conveniently forgetting what happened between us that day when we thought the world would end. And I remembered it for a while, and I cried for a while, but I got over it, and I got over you.

But it wasn’t like I didn’t think about you, and it wasn’t like I didn’t look for you when I went by your old house. You told me you moved two years ago. I’ll say, “has it really been that long?” and you’ll say, “it’s been six years, man.” And I’ll feel sad. And you’ll feel sad. And we’ll agree to stay in touch, but I’ll tell you I’m only in town this week then I’m going back to the city, and you’ll look at me like you’re proud, and I’ll feel like crying.

And in that moment, I won’t be able to even think about what broke us apart. I remembered us staying friends for a long time. And we were there for each other through everything. And somewhere along the way, we separated.

We’ll be reminiscing about our conversations and I’ll be surprised by how many details I remembered, and then I’ll remember that we stopped talking because of something so stupid and so trivial that I laugh out loud in the coffee shop. And you’ll ask me what I’m laughing for and I’ll tell you. And you’ll look at me, chuckle once, and shake your head.

“Foolish,” you’ll say, and I’ll agree.

I just want to learn

I just want to learn

I want to learn about you.

I want to learn what makes you happy

what makes you sad

what makes you unreasonably angry

what makes you laugh uncontrollably

and I want to learn

about your favorite song

and what makes it so special

and I want to learn

what age you were

when you realized

you felt sad most of the time

and what age you were

when you realized

you weren’t sad like you once were

and I want to learn

what makes you so special

because you are so special

the world’s most nostalgic person

And I didn’t know how I wanted it to go until that day. It wasn’t like I was unhappy, but I certainly wasn’t happy. And sure, sometimes I was content. But it wasn’t enough. I fall into this trap of settling so often, you’d think I’m not still young. I get petrified of any negative feeling; I ignore the ones I’m already feeling. And it’s ironic, and I get that, but sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s wrong until it’s over. And this happened a year ago. I’m only thinking about it because I’m the world’s most nostalgic person.

I miss things. And I miss people. It’s the reason I annoy my friends with all the mentions of exes. I get accused of not being over them, but it’s not true. I don’t miss the people; I miss the feelings. And sometimes I miss the people, but it’s not usually for long. I miss ex friends more than I miss ex boyfriends. And even them I know I’m better off without.

And on the day when that two-year, arguably worst relationship of my life ended, I remember I went to the gym. I know we shouldn’t have broken up over the phone, but he lived an hour away and we both knew it was coming anyway. I went to the gym and I listened to a break-up album that had conveniently just come out that day. I became fixated by it. I wound up going to the gym a lot in those coming months. And I was fine. I was happy. I didn’t miss him in the slightest.

But I realized, after two years of constantly being lied to and treated like yesterdays garbage, that I was happy to be single. And I’ve been happy being single for the better part of the last year. I think when that nightmare of a relationship started, what I needed was a friend. And I realize now that all I really want are friends. I don’t feel like I need a boyfriend or girlfriend to be happy. I’m just happy hanging out with my friends and watching a show and maybe having a drink. And that’s fine.

And now Valentine’s Day is coming up and I never much did celebrate that even when I was in relationships. So, I’m not too worried. I’ll probably end up watching some rom-coms at home and I’m content with that.

molting

There are days

I’d rather sit in silence

than talk about our problems

than talk about our days

I go silent

I’ve always been

floating in and out of people

in and out of obscurity

of consciousness

It’s like I’m molting

the way I completely change

when I drift in and out of

people

obscurity

consciousness

but I’m not so sure anyone else notices

because they’re busy wondering

where I am

because I disappear

for months at a time

only to come back to say

hey

how’ve you been

it’s been a while

and repeat.

a diner on a Wednesday at midnight

They sat across from each other in a vacant diner at midnight, high out of their minds, and pancakes in front of them. The pancakes, had the couple been sober, were bad. They sucked. No one comes here and orders the pancakes, especially not in the middle of the night. But to them, two stoned 21-year-olds, they were the best pancakes they’d ever had.

The man, tall, about six foot, unshaven, stomach just about reaching the table in front of him from where he sat back on the booth, made a joke about the pancakes and the woman, despite her best efforts, laughed. She didn’t think the joke was funny, in fact it might’ve even been the worst joke she’d ever heard, but she had the social obligation to act like she cared about him.

And he thought she cared. He was so certain that she cared because he lied so flawlessly whenever she came close to catching him. He was so convinced no one would ever catch his lies; he’s been doing it his whole life, at this point change his name to Lyin’ Brian. And she didn’t want to believe he would deceive her like he did. He was so nice, and so caring, how could someone be so heartless?

So, she had her suspicions and he had his bad jokes, and together they had bad decisions. They both thought they were made for each other, how silly that seems to them now. Because when it came down to it, she could only manage a laugh with him when she smoked, and he could only exist in the world when he did. And what kind of life is that?

It’s a homework and reading kind of day

Today I’m going to catch up on reading the books I’ve been putting off and finish up my homework for the week.

The class I’m taking has been easy; it’s a general humanities class where I am basically just describing art. It’s not too hard, but the reading can be time consuming.

As far as the books go, I’ve been reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. I’m about halfway through. I’d never read it before, but I’ve always liked her poetry, so I figured I’d buy it. The other book that I probably won’t get to today is the second book in the Scythe series, Thunderhead, by Neal Shusterman. I read Scythe and it took me a while to finally finish it, but it was good! It had a couple interesting twists in it that kept me entertained. I’m glad there’s three books in this series because I really did like Scythe even though it took me so long to finish.

I don’t read as much as I should. I feel like that’s a problem with a lot of writers. I want to read more this year. In the last few years, I’ve only read about one book a year, whereas growing up I would read up to ten a year. And when I didn’t have any new books, I’d reread old books.

So, no new writing today besides this. It’s a homework and reading kind of day.

a man who cared for everyone but himself

I once knew a man who cared for everyone but himself. He would walk to the ends of the earth for his friends, but he wouldn’t do a thing for himself. And people tried to make him care about himself, I tried to make him care, but it was hopeless. I wasn’t sure he knew how to care for himself and that made me sad. And he couldn’t wrap his head around how that made me sad, and I never expected him to because I knew how he was.

He was selfless and he thought that made him good. But he would drink his problems away and couldn’t understand how that hurt me, too. He would invite me over to watch over him while he drank and I tried to get him to stop, but it was no use trying because he did what he wanted and he would never listen to me if the advice was about his own safety.

And I cared for him. I cared for him more than I’d ever cared for anyone. And he knew that, or at least he knew part of that. I cared for him because he was good. He had good intentions, at least usually or when it came to his friends.

And I tried for so long to write something for him, but I could never get it right. Because it’s all so complex and I could never put it all into words. Maybe if I was given more words, I could explain what it is I feel for him. But for now, I’ll say I care.

important

Eloquent, but not with you.

I could never tell you how

much you meant to me or

how much I love to see you.

With you, I’m distracted by

your eloquence and the way

you carry yourself like you

matter. And you do, and it

distracts me. I’ve never met

someone who matters like

you do. And I think it scares

me how little you know how

important you are. And you

are so

very

important.

You spoke and I listened

You spoke

and I listened.

I talked, too

but you only heard

what you wanted.

You heard me when

I was disinterested

and when I was upset,

but you didn’t hear

the love I had for you

and all the admiration

I once felt

for you.

And it’s still there

but you never wanted that,

did you?

The night I realized everything was going to be okay

I remember the night that I realized I was going to be okay. There’s been a few nights like that, but this one was special. I was driving. It was at some point during the lowest part of my adult life. I remember I was driving; I was nineteen, and I didn’t know where to go, but I needed to be distracted. I remember I was about a half hour from home and I came across a beach I used to go to with my ex who lived in that town. Not the ex that had broken up with me a few weeks prior. An ex from what felt like a lifetime ago.

I remember a song was playing. I was in my old car. It was a convertible, but I had the hood up. I usually did and it made sense that I did because it was February on Cape Cod. It was cold. I had the heat blasting and I felt warm.

I remember the song that was playing. I remember the lyrics resonating with me. I remember sitting at the beach after sunset, and I nearly cried. I didn’t know what the world was going to throw at me, I didn’t know all the mistakes that were to come in the following year that could’ve been avoided if I just didn’t date my ex that came next.

I didn’t know what would happen and if I would be happy again soon, but I knew I would be someday. I remember snow started to fall. I didn’t even know it was supposed to snow. And I remember I made a playlist of all song that reminded me of my ex who broke my heart more than anyone ever had, and I remember thinking I’d never be the same. And it’s true. I’m not who I was then, I’m better.

And I knew at the time that I was in a bad place, I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew I was. But I also knew I’d come out of it as I had time and again. I didn’t know when, but I knew I would.