It isn't so much the feeling of looking down at your hand and seeing your blood mixed with the blood of someone you just met. And it isn't quite this desire to rip open your own face in hopes of some dramatic releasing of crows. And I don't even think it is the possibility of someone making a crown out of newspaper and putting it on your head and letting you lead a parade of one down an empty street.
No.
It is about being comfortable. Being selfish.
I am not treading water anymore.
I am actively pulling myself down
-or-
I am actually going to shore
-but-
I am not standing still.
These things always start one place and end another. They are shit with directions. They are shit with sympathy. They are shit.
The hills are burning. It might be an omen, for the right or wrong decision. I don't really know. The thing is, about this, about all of this, was that when it first started to fall apart, last October, I thought my heart was broken then. I thought I had healed it, that things were getting better. But now that I look back on the last ten months I know that wasn't true. It broke big that day, in the bathroom, but it didn't heal. I just sort of added stuff into the crack, and it fell out. It broke a little more everyday. I did it to myself, which is the part that I don't like to admit. I thought I would be able to fix it, I couldn't. I thought I could look past it, I wouldn't. I thought I could forget it, I can't. To borrow from a friend of mine, to take something from him about something much more important and tragic than this, and try to attach it to something less, "in like a lion, out like a lamb gone astray". I was excited to plan a wedding, I was excited to wear a suit, I was excited to dance to my favorite songs, with my mom and dad and all my friends. I was excited for beer koozies and burritos, bachelor parties, cans on the back of a car, a honeymoon, all of it. And I miss it all right now. A lot.
I know it is right, that I am not getting married today. It isn't her fault. It isn't my fault. It is how the cards were dealt and how they were played. It would have been an epic party, the hills burning, it snowing ash on the bride and groom. It sounds too good to be true. And it is.
I've been running this in my head for months. It isn't a final draft, but I need to get them out of my head, for me.
I remember the first time I saw your smile. I remember the first time I heard your whit. I remember the first time we sat on the couch and shared all those surface level things that make us more of who we are then we care to admit. I remember the first time we got drunk together. I remember the first time we fought. I remember the first time we made up. I remember saying goodbye to you at the airport, and it being one of the saddest days of my life. I remember opening the door to you the day I got back, and how happy I was. I remember waking up in my tent, in my old room, with you, and it feeling perfect. I remember asking you to marry me on the beach that night, and puking afterward. I remember all the downs, and all the ups, all the hot days and the cold ones. I never wanted to spend them with anyone else, and I am glad that starting today, I never have to spend them with anyone else. I love you.
I wanted this to be the song we danced to. I'm sorry no one will ever see it.
I spent the evening making the apartment a home. I cleaned, vacuumed, and cooked dinner. For a while it worked.
A recently friendly face had decided to head back to Florida. I made the 5 minute walk to the bar to say so long. I keep collecting going away parties, hoping the ones for others outweigh my own. They might all be the same, drinks and smokes and bad music. Coworkers doing their best impression of friends, saying the things you are supposed to say so in a couple days it won't hurt to realize you forgot they left. I share a couple of shots, never with the person of honor, and exchange a couple of stories about the nights before I came around and what they used to do. The bar closes it's doors and everyone piles into their cars. I walked back, this time its a little colder and I walk a little faster. I cross the street when I'm not supposed to and I see my reflection in the windows of the diner as I walk past. I realize I'm slouching, and I have been for years. I straighten up and things are better when I get home.
The hours I've been spending alone are adding up like someone else losses on the market. Me? I'm just trying to make it out alive.
someone is waiting for me to come home. someone is waiting for me to leave. someone is waiting for me to write another song. someone is waiting for me to never write again. someone is waiting for me to calm down. someone is waiting for me to not stop. someone is hoping this isn't the same as all the other times before. someone is thinking they know better.
