The words do not come when I write.
Away from the notebook, the computer, the humble pencil,
the ideas flourish.
You’re the one I want to be with. The one who dances at gas stations at one in the morning. The one who stands in driveways with me, a little too drunk, and only lets me take one drag off his cigarette because they’re not good for me. The one who gives me food when I pick him up. The one who sits on swings on the bluffs and tells me how his life really is. The one that tells me how he feels even though it’s fucking hard. The one who sits on my kitchen floor playing guitar. The one who talks to dogs and gets embarrassed when he remembers I'm listening. The one that reads books with me. The one that calls me to talk about what I ate for dinner. The one that sits with me in diner booths and takes pictures of me blushing. The one who loves my best friends as much as I do, even though he also understands their flaws. The one that tells me he’s proud of me for doing what I’m doing because it’s fucking hard. The one that tells me about his heroes and helps me learn why they’re important. The one who tells me about his dreams like they’re on the horizon and he expects me to be there. The one who texts me every day even when I’ve moved to a different city. The one who tells me his secrets, even though I know talking about how he feels is his biggest challenge. The one who listens to me when I'm confused and sad and makes me laugh instead. The one who will keep doing little, beautiful things so this list will never end…
We are different. The ground of normal that we carefully constructed in our lives is different. I am not sure if this is a bad thing or not. I find how I see us is different. I have to stand taller and alone at times that I didn't. I think sometimes we grow to rely on other people so much that we forget the tune of our own internal music. I finally can hear the notes of me outside of us without sadness. I know this occurred out of circumstance but it is our new reality. I hope and pray that I don't forget the dance of us in finding the song of me.
Now that I can see the world around me lose its shape I really do regret taking that powder into me. It was a wonderful journey that we all were to sett off for but I did not expect the stability of my world to disappear so unexpectedly. I just woke up without her the next day, and ever since it only takes me to space out and lose the focus of my eyesight to see the world flow and the object in front of me merge in the background. It is in a way petrifying but there is also certain magic to it. Magic of human mind. Something great and inexplicable. Now, I indulge in coffee. It keeps me awake and I do not end up spacing out and seeing the world flow around me in uncontrolled trance. I just do not want be scared. I wish I had not taken that white powder into me.
I am tired. It is just simply exhausting to pretend to be okay when I am anything buy okay. I am tired of holding my sorrows and pain so tight that they spill out at the worst moments. Allowing others to see what I prefer to remain hidden. I am tired of giving so much of me to others that do not understand the difficulty it entails to do so. I just wish I could tear apart the veil the lie I have created so meticulously and let you see what is the reality of my life. How the simplest of tasks are difficult and how I struggle to keep my carefully constructed world together. Some days I am tired of me.