Friday, May 30, 2008


Sweet things leave sugar on your lips.
I wish you wouldn't say things like that,
Because it only makes me fall
More in love with you
And I don't know,
Can't be sure that you'll be there
To catch me,
To save me from the pavement.
"I'll take you to friendship,
To the point of forgiveness,
And then I'll let you go."
I never wrote about the mistake you made
So many months ago.
You wronged me by pushing me away
Caused me to feel more pain
Instead of explaining.
We've gotten to the point.
Your responsibilities need you.
But I need you just as much.
Never mind the fact
That I can't look into your eyes,
Look into your soul,
Without hurting,
Without mourning what was destroyed.
Your voice makes me happy,
And when your face lights up with joy,
I smile.
You haven't let go.
I'm still calling.
And we're both terrified of the future.
I want someone who cares:
You want to find someone worthy of courtesy:
This can't be me.
You say you've tried to hate me
Convince yourself that you never cared.
But I put the same spell on you.
You left a void in my heart
One now occupied by the cold,
Hard, snow-covered rock that weighs it down.
I talk to you every now and again
And the sun shines
Melting the bricks of ice that make up my boundaries.
I let you in once more.
I open the wounds again,
Rip off the bandages,
And coat them with salt.
But I forgive you...
And again...

The funny thing is that this still kind of applies, even though it happened over 2 years ago. C.R. cheated on me, after I had wasted 3 months writing him letters at boot camp, and after he had fed me full of crap, told me what I wanted to hear, as if I wouldn't find out about him sleeping with his ex-girlfriend. As I type this up today, my heart fills with bitterness, but not for what he did to me. Instead, for what he did to everyone else. When he stuck his head under that train, I don't think he realized how many people he would be hurting in the process. Family, friends, girlfriend... son. The boy he fathered will grow up without knowing his daddy, and the mother will be bitter because of his suicide. C.R's mother will never be able to look at trains again without imagining exactly what happened to make her boy do such a thing, and all of his friends will, like me, wonder why he did it, try to make sense of it, and sooner or later, give up on trying. Yeah, we could blame him. But what's the use? He can't hear or see us blaming him. He can't see or know what exactly he left behind. He can't see the remnants of his life.

You know what I hate? I hate that this has affected me so dramatically. Like I said, he cheated on me. We stayed friends for a year or two after, and I finally terminated our friendship about six months before because he had treated my boyfriend of the time like he was a better person. We stopped talking, and three weeks after the actual event, when I was going through my freshman year of college, and a bad breakup, someone who I hadn't talked to in the longest time tells me over the phone that C.R. committed suicide. I suppose it took awhile to really hit me. I told people around me like it was nothing, because it wasn't at the time. My friends and professors, and even my boss said I might want to see a shrink about it. It finally hit me, and I cried. I didn't understand why, I mean, I wasn't even talking to him. I could barely consider him a friend. And now, that I'm back home, it's hitting me harder than ever. I realized upon talking with his friends, that more people missed him than could be comprehended. And then someone told me how he did it. Train. Creative, that one. Train. And all she would tell me is that it involved decapitation. When she told me this, I thought about it for awhile, then I freaked. What was he thinking, sticking his head under the wheel of a train? How do you get that lonely without people noticing? I was all of a sudden angry with him, not just for committing suicide and hurting those around him, but for being selfish and doing it in such a way that someone else had to see his nasty, headless remains. The engineer had to have felt it. He might have even caused a train accident. The nerve.

I was watching The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants today (I know, early high school-ish) and I saw what Tibby and Bridget went through when Bridget's mom committed suicide, and when Bailey died. I realized through a blank look at a camera that that's how I feel inside. I've lost two people in two years, and I feel empty. I feel like I want to stay in bed all day and sleep, because that's what happens when you're empty.. you're also tired. And when Carmen walked into Tibby's room saying, "I am mad at my dad," I realized how hard it was to empathize with her when your own problems are so much greater, how hard it is to listen to your friends bitch about their own lives and their own problems when you're having a hard time dealing with yours. Everything else seems like small potatoes.

A.K. once told me he was sick of the emotional roller coaster. Well, just for you, A.K, I'm not confiding my problems. I saw someone to try and help me with it, as per your advice. I won't be telling you my problems anymore. I won't call you in the middle of the night next semester and ask you to come talk to me. Instead, I'll huddle in my bed, crying. You know what my mom said when I told her that I went to go get help? She told me that nothing that I've been through compares with what she's been through, that we've been through way worse together. She started thinking that maybe she didn't raise me right. She thinks I'm weak, thinks she didn't teach me to handle death. But how do you prepare someone for two deaths to people you were close to in one year? When she started telling me that we had been through harder times, do you know what I did? I yelled at her, A.K. I yelled at her, and told her that I hadn't been through worse, and if I had, I was too young, and mom had made it okay, and that this was the worst year of my life, the year where all the hard stuff had happened. The only good part of this year was you. You, my friends.

Monday, May 19, 2008

An Everlasting Moment

I'm headed to the theatre for the third time today.
Could have gone back to L. for a quick nap.
Okay, so maybe I'm not headed to work.
Maybe, maybe I'm hooked on you.
Can't get enough.
Walking past E., hoping to even glimpse you.
I turn, again, hoping to see you,
Needing to see you.
You're sneaking up on me.
Rascally devil, you.
You pout, your game spoiled, blaming it on me for looking too soon.
And then you wrap an arm around me,
Stopping with me at the theatre.
My home.
You, I would like to think, understand why I chose it as my major.
And I love you for it.
But I can't tell you that.
You would freak.
So instead, I'll say,
"Thank you, darlin', for supporting me."
Eh, I've got half-an-hour;
Let's go to K.
And we're off,
In his room for twenty minutes,
A period that passes all too quickly.
He's wrapping his arms around me,
Resting his head on my sleepy head,
Never letting me go,
Never letting me out of his (attached) grasp.
And then time stands still.
He's kissing me with those perfect lips of his,
The perfect touch,
The perfect strength.
And I have only one wish:
That I could remain frozen
In this moment,
He's so handsome,
But he can't see his own worth.
He can't see that I am so attracted to,
Attached to,
In love with,
And even though I tell him, he can't see why.
Through the crazy faces, the obnoxious behavior,
The feigned masochism and the misogyny,
I see a sensitive man,
Modeled from a Greek god.
Those blue-grey eyes, boyish smile,
And that facial hair I've grown to love
Hide the soul that I yearn for,
The soul I want to learn more about,
The soul whose secrets I want to discover.
My mystery man.
And all too soon, the alarm goes off,
And I'm getting up,
Slipping on my shoes,
And trekking back to the theatre.

I wrote this in March. The relationship referred to here is over now, but the poem still deserved to be published. Not because I miss him, but because it's my work, my words, my poetry.

Thursday, May 15, 2008


Welcome to MSN Messenger
Online Contacts
Stop take some time to think...
Sinister Cynicism

This is who I want to talk to. Double click. "Hey". "Meebo message: Sinister Cynicism is offline". This happens EVERY TIME, and yet he says he isn't avoiding me. He's full of shit. We broke up because I wished he loved me. Is that so wrong? He couldn't give me what I wanted, and he couldn't deal with that. Is that really so hard to deal with? I write an email, asking him how he's doing. No response. I write another, telling him about how I'm doing, that I got Firefly for my birthday. Still, no response. And then, a final email, telling him how I'm doing, and telling him I'm done with our one-sided friendship. And, you guessed it, no response! He had told me, in an email, that he wanted to be friends, that he wanted "to keep things from going awkward and silent, if he could". Guess that's no longer the case. Maybe I just freaked out about his flirting a little too much. Couldn't handle seeing his arm around another girl, so I left. And he calls that freaking out. I didn't even yell... I didn't even say anything... I said goodbye to everyone, and I left. It's my party, I can cry/leave if I want to. Even my friends are telling me I should give up on friendship with him. Fine. You win P.V... I give up. I give up, I give up. B.P. told me she thought I had a chance of getting him back. Not so much when he doesn't co-operate with our plans. But it doesn't matter anymore. As an ex, I'm not supposed to care, so I don't. And then I do. And then I don't. And then I do, but I claim I don't. So I delete the crappy camera-phone pictures of him from my cell phone, I delete his phone number, knowing I can get it back from facebook if I need it, I delete him from my MSN and AIM accounts. I try to stop caring. He probably has me blocked anyway. Oh well. This is me not caring, or rather, me trying not to care...