Perfection is what we make of it
You were perfection in my head. Everything I thought was good and perfect contained in a human shell I fell hopelessly in love with. You were my messiah, my Christ-figure.
You knew none of this.
You dealt with my pains and frustrations as a friends as I determined that you were the woman destined to me from the beginning of the universe. From letter, to pictures, to mix tape. The world passed by in a blur as I awaited the day where I could ask you to be with me forever.
You beat me to the punch.
"Because I love you" Your four word answer to why I should not go on a date. the four words I was convinced I would never hear. My life felt complete.
We planned, we shared our lives, we new we were destiny. Until you could not wait for me. Your upheaval, you change, proclaiming the distance was to much. I had already accepted a job on the other side of the country to be by your side. Your impatience cost you me, and stupidly I kept you in my life. But lovers can never be friends.
I should have cut all ties from you. Instead I have your voice branded into my memory claiming "That should be my child" and "No one ever touched me the way you did" Does your husband know you called me the night before your wedding? Does he know that he is compared to an unrealistic me that you try to confuse with the lies you told him about that "other guy"
I hope you are happy.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Second Act
Loneliness and the ensuing turmoil
It should have been easy to say no. To recognize the growing look in your face. It was young love. It was a desire to know and be known. It was exactly what I had feared.
I played a new game.
I let you feel what I had felt. I was 19 and calloused.
To think that I could sing of love and beauty and treat you in a manner that conveyed neither is still unfathomable to me.
Instead of telling you how I felt, instead of doing any one of a thousand things to improve the situation, I let it ride.
It was then I learned how quickly love can turn to hate. The look in your eyes expecting me to make your whole, knowing I did more to destroy you than I ever could to fix you.
We still speak with the distance of once intimate strangers. I realize that any real part I could have played in you life was lost long ago. I try to make up for the damage by being what I never was to you in those years past. A friend
It should have been easy to say no. To recognize the growing look in your face. It was young love. It was a desire to know and be known. It was exactly what I had feared.
I played a new game.
I let you feel what I had felt. I was 19 and calloused.
To think that I could sing of love and beauty and treat you in a manner that conveyed neither is still unfathomable to me.
Instead of telling you how I felt, instead of doing any one of a thousand things to improve the situation, I let it ride.
It was then I learned how quickly love can turn to hate. The look in your eyes expecting me to make your whole, knowing I did more to destroy you than I ever could to fix you.
We still speak with the distance of once intimate strangers. I realize that any real part I could have played in you life was lost long ago. I try to make up for the damage by being what I never was to you in those years past. A friend
Monday, January 4, 2010
The First Act
I have made so many mistakes.
We all have regrets over things we should have said, should not have said. Things we should have done, and things we should not have done.
We all wish that we could have that movie script moments. Where the thoughts that are flowing through our mind, the emotion coursing through our veins is put into the perfect words. Were you are heard, understood and acknowledged.
This does not happen.
Instead we get muffed meanings, stunned silence and regrets.
The first time this happened, tears were streaming from my eyes. Neurons were firing a million tiny deaths and I felt as if the world had grown dark. I was 18 with my whole life a head of me yet I could not see past the pain. It reeked of misery and felt like an endless and boundless void.
I got over it... until I ran into her again.
This time I rehearsed the wrong speech, sounding arrogant and boastful. The emotion that was still so fresh and strong was quickly shoved under a mask of machismo.
It back fired.
12 years later I still wish I could take those words back. Scream I miss you, I want to be with you. let me love you. Instead my last memory of you face was a blank see you around.
We all have regrets over things we should have said, should not have said. Things we should have done, and things we should not have done.
We all wish that we could have that movie script moments. Where the thoughts that are flowing through our mind, the emotion coursing through our veins is put into the perfect words. Were you are heard, understood and acknowledged.
This does not happen.
Instead we get muffed meanings, stunned silence and regrets.
The first time this happened, tears were streaming from my eyes. Neurons were firing a million tiny deaths and I felt as if the world had grown dark. I was 18 with my whole life a head of me yet I could not see past the pain. It reeked of misery and felt like an endless and boundless void.
I got over it... until I ran into her again.
This time I rehearsed the wrong speech, sounding arrogant and boastful. The emotion that was still so fresh and strong was quickly shoved under a mask of machismo.
It back fired.
12 years later I still wish I could take those words back. Scream I miss you, I want to be with you. let me love you. Instead my last memory of you face was a blank see you around.
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