June.

Looking into a reflection that used to be clear –
Glazed over with the impurities of too many failed attempts
And nearly three months of a slow, deliberate dance
Three months of comfort and content
enough to scare me into believing
there really is a reason for all of this
tricked into feeling a certain way
by my racing heart as we
look at each other – it’s like you’re
looking right into me and we’re
always on the same page with this
As you gently call me baby in the
caressing way your full mouth
lets it out and you close your
eyes to the noise deep in my throat
that you’ve come to know.
So many times there was so much
more to say and once said, echoes
Times you couldn’t wait for me
the meaning spiraling, peeling to
reveal so many layers behind every
word, every look, every touch
But I didn’t – and still haven’t –
walk out on you –
And even as I tried, sitting across
from you in Bryant Park
I came back the very next day.
Am I fighting something that I
should be embracing?
Every day I ignore the horoscopes
that seem to know me better
than I do.
I see you and I feel you in
my heart, in my head, between
my legs, in my stomach…
you are everywhere to me,
sitting on a bench looking
at the water, fervent kisses
fueled by alcohol since you took
yourself out of my equation.
And I respect you, and I
feel so embarrassed for still being
here, but you are so
comfortable and though
I believe you didn’t let yourself
invest too much, you’re still
inclined to feel
We’ve never been too far apart
And this whirlwind feels like
years – there are some who don’t
know half of what I’ve told you
laying in your arms, in the
quiet darkness of a March night –
one of the best I’ve spent
So not fair and I know one of
us will get hurt… most likely
It will be you who hurts in the
short-term, but it will be me –
rest assured – who suffers this later
When I wake up one day still
remembering the scent of you
against my skin
And I will try so hard to figure out
Why I didn’t try harder
Why I didn’t believe you when
you told me how hopeful you
were for this to work out,
while I hid behind my fears and
insecurities – why I couldn’t
trust you – how I could give you
everything – and then hold back
before it could be official
And I’ll remember how I hid
behind these insecurities and
blamed it all on you.
Made it all your fault,
convinced myself I’d never be
good enough or I’d want too much
Never listening to you
And I’ll be the one who breaks
The lean line of your body will
haunt my dreams, your smile,
the memory of the way your
long fingers traced the
curve of my body as I lay on my side
in the warmth of each other
I’m so young and I seem so old
because I’m so safe – I can’t
bring myself to take a chance
since it offers no guarantees
But why do I need a guarantee
when I’ll have you.
When did everything become
not enough? Who is this girl
writing these words, needing
these things, everything’s changed
from the days of long ago and I
can’t decide who I liked better –
as I lay on my side once again,
though this time alone, waiting
for a call that may no longer come.

June 20xx

m1

Affliction

I spent all day asking myself why, asking M1, why? Why? Why? Why? Why? and Whhhhhhhhhhy? Why won’t he talk to me? I spent all week angry, so angry. I spent most of tonight trying to keep myself from writing him back. I finally did. What can I say? Staying angry is not my strong suit.

One thing I have learned is that you can absolutely 100% never guess what is gong to come out of someone’s mouth when you bring up a point of contention. You will NEVER really leave the conversation say, “yeah, that’s about what I expected to happen.” No, you can count on most people to blow. your. mind.

We are all afflicted, whether we are the ones to be tortured by someone else, or we are the ones to torture ourselves and others. In some shape or form, we are all struggling with what’s going on inside. It’s hardly a pretty sight.

In deep conversation, he revealed that our relationship is “too much, too soon”. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My initial reaction was to feel so sorry for him. I thought to myself, how is this guy every going to settle down with anyone? It was as if a ray of divine light shone down from the heavens revealing the “why”. I am involved with a guy who finds our every other day texts and emails invasive, and oppressive. He is truly afflicted by commitment, by intimacy of personal relationships.

This weeks anger quickly turned to a mix of sympathy for him and defeat for myself. I asked M1 tonight over drinks, what would make someone who is typically a happy, serene person engage with someone who tortures them on a regular basis? When I asked this question it was laden with resentment. It was a loaded question. Clearly the answer is nothing. Now I ask myself that again, and I can’t help but to see the humanity in this situation.

He is not just not answering me because he wants to be spiteful, or to make me unhappy. It is not a power struggle. It is not for personal gain or enjoyment of any kind. Underneath it all, there is a man tortured by his own issues. I have no doubt that when he told me he wanted to get married, that he meant it. I bet he does. I also think he was telling me the truth when he said that most of his relationships don’t last more than three months. It breaks my heart to truly understand that he is most likely the reason they end. God, sometimes I wonder, how does it all work out for everyone? So. much. damage.

This leaves me in the worst of all places, feeling sorry for us both. Anger is not pleasant but it certainly helps to end a relationship, doesn’t it? I am dreading our next conversation. I have to do what’s right for me. I have to remember what I am looking for. I want to get married and have a family. It is not going to work with A and it is such a shame. I love having him around. He has such a wonderful personality and overall outlook. He is passionate and affectionate. But he could be anywhere from 1 year to 35 years away from giving me what I need. That is a whole lot of time being lonely and feeling insignificant.

God when did it become so easy to see the writing on the wall? I feel like as I get older the afflicted give up their issues like we are in a public therapy group. In the last year, people have made all kinds of confessions to me. No sooner is it out of their mouth- I am out the door. This revolving door method of dating leaves me dizzy and wanting for real commitment and real connections.

Some part of me fears that it will rub off on me like a disease. I figure the reason that I am doing so well is that I have had a good example set by my family, and my relationships (overall) were sound. They were based on love and respect. It is what I expect. But after the stress that came from dealing w A this week, I wonder, how long before it takes its toll? How long before someone characterizes me as damaged? I think once I break this off I am going to take a break, collect myself, and try to reconnect with the deep peace inside.

-m2

Heels and Healing

It had been about a day and a half since I had heard from my boyfriend (I use that term loosely) and I laid in bed thinking about all of the things that were missing. I was looking back at all of the wonderful men that I have had in my life and how giving and generous they had been to me.

In sophomore year of college, I met K. A friend of his thought we would be a perfect pair and he set us up. We talked on the phone for a few weeks before actually meeting up. I was so nervous when it finally came time. It was dusk, and the sun was just setting in to the horizon.  A pale pink light reflected off the white cement walkways.  All dressed up, I walked across our quad and saw him standing there with yellow roses, my favorite flowers.  I had mentioned it briefly in passing, and he remembered. I was so touched. As I walked up to him he handed them to me and told me, “You are beautiful” and grabbed my hand and kissed it. It was such a magical night. He was so romantic. He made me feel so special.

The relationship ended (ironically) because he was ready to get married and I wasn’t.  It’s funny how timing is everything. So after a few months we broke up because he felt like it wasn’t moving in the direction that he had hoped, or at least wasn’t getting there fast enough. I felt rushed and didn’t like the pressure. So it ended.

Since then K and I have lost touch, but thanks to the wonder that is social networking, we are still connected. I signed on to Facebook and there it was- his engagement announcement. His fiancé is beautiful. He looked so happy. Good for him- I am happy for him.

I was talking to my friend last night and she asked me, does that still happen? Are we just getting too old for that kind of whirlwind romance? Do people just not have the time to invest anymore? I told I thought it was still possible.

Despite my previous anger-ridden post, I still have hope. I have hope because people like K never change. He will always be a hopeless romantic and I am pretty sure that he will continue to surprise her with her favorite flowers, leave her love notes, and write her romantic emails. I am sure he is the same boyfriend to her that he was to me. In this case it’s a blessing that people don’t change.

It sucks when you realize you are incompatible with someone. It’s scary on so many levels. You picked that person, you invested, you think you are in the middle of something wonderful and then it can all change. It can just end. Without warning, it’s over. It was the wrong person. Isn’t it easy to question your judgment? But how would you know? You can’t know, until you give it a chance. You don’t know until you are in the middle of it. Once you know, it’s hard to ignore it and so it goes.

Yesterday, I compared my scenario to a pair of high heels. Sometimes you go in to a store and find the most beautiful pair of high heels. You fall in love, but when you actually go to put them on your feet, you can’t walk. You have to leave them in the store. They are still a really nice pair of heels, but they are just not a fit for you. As A and I part ways I realize he is a great guy, on some level, but he and I are not compatible to be in a relationship together. If K is the pair you take home and enjoy for a lifetime,  A is the really nice pair of heels that you leave at the store.

-m2

The Bitter End

Forget it! Do you hear me?

Do I say that too much? Probably. But what’s the alternative – staying? I don’t think so. I feel like screaming it from the top of my lungs until my vocal cords can’t hold anymore sound. “It’s over.” Bitter and scathing. I hope you feel my distain.  Forget my name.

Fuck.  It happened again.

Seriously, could I be more frustrated? It’s probably not possible. Do I seem like I would take it? Probably. I am kind, and gentle. I speak in soft tones. I love to make you smile. But?

At any cost? You probably thought so. But I can tell you it’s unlikely. You motherfucker- you take advantage. Close your eyelids, and open them again- I am gone and I am not sorry. I am only sorry for you, because you have no idea what means. No idea.

I love you like I love my comfortable bed- too bad you are human, too bad you have emotions.  It’s too bad on so many accounts. Too fucking bad?  You are- too fucking bad.

I hope you miss it-mourn it.  I hope it devastates you. I hope your grieve and in you sadness you beg for my forgiveness, and I won’t remember you name. I hope you feel the emptiness that you have given me, the loss that you have caused. The selfishness. The sadness that is what you call love- I hope it scars you.

Emblazoned and burned in to your flesh – I hope it eats at your hope the way it diminished mine.  Loose your hope, Loose your mind. Loose yourself – you fucking asshole – you deserve to join your own kind.

-m2

 

 

Happy Birthday, Baby.

Every year I do this. As soon as the calendar flips to September, and the smell of fall is thick in the air, school starts again and the last hazy days of summer are behind us, I start talking about my birthday. Fall is birthday season, November is birthday month. I love up my birthday like a little attention whore who can’t get enough of saying the words: I’m almost x years old!

I don’t even mind the getting older part. I actually really like getting older. For awhile it had to do with my career… I look (luckily) several years younger than I am, and as someone who excelled in my job at an early age, being able to say I was 26, 27, 28 – despite looking 19 – was ideal. Now it has more to do just with the looking younger part. My favorite question after “what’s your name?” is “how old do you think I am?” The way I play it, you’d think my birthday was the best day of the year.

But it’s not. As much as I love the build up, talking about it until I’m blue in the face and my throat is hoarse, I absolutely hate my birthday. I hate it. Of all the birthdays I’ve had, not one has come and gone without some disappointment. Maybe my expectations are too high. Maybe I’m just not clear. Maybe I make too big a deal about it that there is no way at all it could ever live up.

This year, I want to just sleep through my birthday. I think a major problem is that my friends don’t buy a word of that because of the time I invest talking it up. But I’m serious. This year, I want my birthday to be just another day. If I don’t expect anything, I can’t be let down… right?

So don’t send me flowers. They die. Don’t give me gifts. I don’t need anything. Say happy birthday, smile, be nice to me, alleviate my stress for 24 short hours. Let me glide through the day pretending I haven’t made this out to the end all, be all. It’s just another day after all, and I am just another girl. Albeit with candles on her cake and sequins in her hair.

m1

Kissing with Your Eyes Closed

I hate new relationships, I do. As someone who as always been a part of the long-term relationship dating circle, I have trouble with the beginnings.  A lot of the times it was hard to even remember the beginnings, and quite frankly- I am glad. Those first few months are supposed to be magical but they really aren’t. They are a test run in madness.

Each partner is testing the grounds to see what they can get, and most importantly what they can get away with.  Should you find yourself emotionally attached; you are fucked. I said it. You might as well kiss your sanity good bye because as soon as the other person gets a whiff of your scent, gets a hint of your vulnerability- they exploit it.

Exploitation, it’s subtle and sweet, masked in the form of love or dedication. It perverts and exposes itself, pushing the exploited to the edge. It makes them draw a line- a strong, finite line. Up against the decision of staying or going, you ask yourself “Could I live without this person?”

Of course you can.  In a few months time any notion that you can possibly have of loving someone is limited. Now, the characteristic of being limited doesn’t necessarily have to be bad. If you choose to take your limited time together and make it worthwhile, make it memorable, make meaningful, then there are nothing but possibilities.

I think the greatest flaw that anyone can make in the beginning, or ever at any point in your relationship is to become lazy. Even if you feel inclined to check out, put your feet up and let your partner doing the legwork, you shouldn’t. It’s only a matter of time before this disruption of balance will cannibalize your relationship. If you are feeling lazy, you might as well just end it, because relationships don’t just work out.  They are not self-sustaining machines.

It’s hard to know when to let a new relationship die.  You never know if the current state of your relationship is an indication of the future, or if it is temporary and fixable. These relationships remind me of a six year old car. You know it’s breaking. It could break down at any point. You could take it to the shop and try to keep it going, but you never know how much energy you should invest in to keeping it running. You never really know what’s going to happen in either the relationship or with the car.  If you invest and it doesn’t work out –it’s a waste. If you don’t invest you’ll never know if it was an opportunity wasted.

It’s a fucking crapshoot if you ask me.

-m2

Les mots sont éphémères

He catches me staring at him, and he will look over, smile, and say “hi” in this cute and uncomfortable voice.  His tone is saying, “hey crazy, what are you looking at?” I don’t mind. Maybe I am- a little bit crazy. I am looking at him because I want to say something but I can’t find words that will do my feelings justice. I want to be able to express to him how happy I am, how he makes me feel, how right everything seems. But the words never come, so –I stare.

I woke up yesterday, and opened my eyes and for the first time, he was looking at me. He didn’t break eye contact, and there was a long pause until he spoke.  He said, “hi”. It’s the same word, but I could tell the meaning was different. This “hi” was far better. He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead.

I began my first French class last night and we started with the basic introductions.  One of the things about the French language that I thought was particularly interesting is that you have to ask the person that you are speaking with if you can talk to them in an informal tone.  So up until this question comes up you are following protocol, as my teacher likes to call it. Your first encounter is scripted.  I thought that it was strange for people that I have always seen as so passionate to entertain the notion of formalities.

I have always thought of speech as something that should be unbridled, unrestrained and for the most part I say what I am thinking and feeling. But a funny thing happens when you begin to date people, you find yourself saying the same things to people that you thought that you would only say to one person in your life. You find that your feelings repeat, situations repeat, until it feels like words don’t really hold much weight anymore. So, in a sense, I can understand this notion of formal speech. Why not use it? What are we really saying anyway?

He finally looked away and said, “I have my interview on Tuesday.” I knew exactly the one he was talking about. It was the interview that could possibly tempt him in to moving across country, with or without me. So I said, “How about I even up the ante? How about I promise you a few things that are attractive so you have more of a reason to stay?” He looked back and said, “You don’t have to promise me anything, I already know you would do anything for me.”

And so, now I see in the absence of words there is the purity of desire. What you do is motivated by how you feel, and words are inconsequential.  My ex always said, “I don’t need to say it. You should just know.” I never really understood what he meant. At the time, I did need to hear it, but now being in love the way I am, I understand. It’s not what you say to someone, it’s what you’ll do for them.

-m2

My kavannah.

“What is your intention? For what purpose are you living your life?”

Last night, these questions were posed to me. Speechless, my mind raced as tears sprung to my eyes. Drawing a blank as white and expansive as miles of snow covered fields, all I could think was: I have no intention. I have no purpose.

I thought of all the answers people could have for these queries. If I stole any of them, it would be dishonest. I acknowledged that. I am not sure I am here to raise children, be selfless and devote my life to taking care of someone else. My goal is not to save the world, to make it better for the next generation. I can’t even say confidently that my journey is all for me, because I’m certainly not living just for number one. What other intentions are there? My panic was evident on my shitty poker face.

As I admitted through silent tears that I may not have a purpose, he rephrased: “Well, why are you here?”

Whew, this one was a bit easier. This one I’ve considered before. I’m here to be okay. I’m here for him to tell me I’ll be okay.

He pushes further, as usual. “But what does it mean to want to be okay?” Blank. “It means you want to be a good person. Your kavannah is to be a good person.” Really? And better yet, my what?

Kavannah means to act and to live with intentionality and consciousness. Kavannah reminds you that you are part of the whole cosmic tapestry of being, your actions matter… aka cause and effect… aka karma. Fuck. Convergence really scares me. Why does everything have to come together, come full circle?

Honestly? Call it intention, call it purpose, call it kavannah. I just want to be okay. I just want it all to be okay.

m1

Code Red.

I guess if karma is real, I am currently staring down the possibility of my own. I have convinced myself that if God does exist, He is a loving God, not a vengeful and punishing God. But then again, I have convinced myself of many things and been wrong before. This time, anything can happen. This time, it’s anyone’s guess.

Almost two years wasted being judged, questioned, forced to defend my every word, action, thought. Misinterpreted at every turn, watching my back for no reason other than to prove myself over and over and over again. I am not doing it again. I am not letting that happen again. I was afraid of the parallels, relieved when they didn’t emerge, troubled now by one simple statement that persists between what I thought and what may actually be.

When you expose yourself to someone else, you are allowing yourself to become vulnerable. Knowing the risks involved, I move forward and hope for the best. Basically this translates to: I trust you. I hope you feel that and trust me as well. I hope that you trust me at all.

And now I’m here. In a position I didn’t want to be in, on so many levels, with so many meanings deeper than anyone can imagine at the moment. My words hold more, you can’t always take them literally, you sometimes have to look below face value. Every question is loaded, every word is broken. It’s a code red and I’m just waiting to be vindicated.

“Some say that I will and some say I won’t
Victory is an elusive whore
She is as easily mine as she is yours…”

m1

The motion keeps my heart running.

There’s a melancholy surrounding me this morning. I can’t put my finger on it, I can’t describe it, but it’s there in my stomach. Even the music playing on my computer is like a soundtrack to my mood… soft, sad, contemplative.

Right now, my head is swimming with thoughts of too many yous. Why do I look at everything at once? When so many unrelated people, places, things converge, it becomes difficult to compartmentalize and the weight of it all can crush.

Why is he on my mind so much right now? He keeps coming up… people are talking about him without me bringing him up. I don’t mind necessarily, I wrap myself in the warm memories his name conjures but I can’t help but wonder why now. Is he trying to tell me something? It’s been almost 18 months and I still pick up the phone to call him. If there’s something I need to know, let me dream him, let me hear his voice, his warning, his love.

Replaying our most recent conversation in my head, I wonder if I came on too strong. Did it appear that I was applying pressure to an already combustible situation? That was not my intention at all. Sometimes I just get ahead of myself, sometimes when I believe in something – someone – when I believe in a situation, a feeling, the passion comes out and similar to a tidal wave, knocks me off my feet. Sometimes it’s so powerful it washes over those around me too. But I promise I won’t let you drown. I won’t let you down.

I’ve said it before: I’m constantly searching for something to believe in. Something bigger than me, bigger than I can even comprehend. Yet that’s not enough anymore. I want to be something to believe in for someone else. I want you to believe in me. In whatever capacity it is you need right now, in whatever shape or form that takes, I want to be something you can believe in.

And my heart keeps beating to the melancholy tune. Though this place is somehow comforting at the moment; a hesitant smile begins to play on my lips as I think about seeing your face and what it means, what it inspires, what it helps me to remember.

“Before I walk on fire
You gotta look me in the face.
I wanna be your witness
I want you to believe in me.”

m1