My friend Derrick says love is the only war worth dying for. But every time I say, “please come back”, I feel like I”m trying to find a dirty needle in a haystack, and God knows I can’t go out like that. I suppose we wear our traumas the way the guillotine wears gravity. Our lovers’ necks are so soft. I lost my head so many times. I got sober just hoping my eyes would dry. Still, I drink so much in my sleep, I can’t sleepwalk a straight line to the guest room or collapse, hang so heavy inside her lungs.
She speaks and her voice trips across her heartbeat, each word limps into the air. We are gone, she says. And I am no mortician; I have no idea how to put make-up on the dead. I have no idea how to unerase, so I just puddle at the door, my face looking like a deck of falling cards, like everything’s been playing me. We tried so hard. But when I said “give me a ring”, she thought I meant a call. Now I haven’t had her number for two years. We’ve been saying how many times are we going to keep cutting these red flags into valentines. You know, all those wars we fought have turned our shine into rust, we can’t even touch each other’s hearts without a tetanus shot.
We can’t begin to remember how we forgot there is no shelter in the womb. The heart forms long before the ribcage. My mother swore she could feel me kicking weeks before my feet formed. That’s how hard my heart beat — and it still does. They say the womb is where we learn love is knowing the cord that feeds you could at any moment wrap around your neck. I hold my breath for the entire 56 seconds it takes her to walk to the window to stare at the road to tell me she has nothing left to tell me, we are done, carrying our level heads in our tornado chests.
For the first time, I know she is right. As the dawn, after our first date, we were so young, and I hadn’t written an honest love poem yet. I hadn’t met anyone I could fall so hard for ‘til the night we kissed on our skateboards, she teased me for going so slow. I said I never want to catch up with the letting go. I want the plead in my throat to forever anger my spine and the seams of your slippers, love, even when the dove crashed through the window, even when our friends said, you can call it love, but you know Einstein called himself a pacifist when he built the bomb.
When they ask why we stayed together for so long I say, I don’t know. I just know that we cried at the exact same time in every movie. I know we blushed everyday for the first two years. I know I always stole the covers and she never woke me up.
I know the exact look on her face, the first night she used my toothbrush. The next day, I brushed my teeth like thirtysome times, ‘cause I didn’t want to let her go. You have to understand when it hurt to love her, it hurt the way the light hurts your eyes in the middle of the night, but I had to see, even through the ruin, if what we were burying were seeds. There were so many plants in our house, you could rake the leaves even through that winter when I was trying to make angels in the snow of her cold shoulder. She was still leaving love notes in my suitcase; I’d always find them.
The day before I left, I remembered a story her mother told me. She said, Andrea, when Heather was a little girl, she couldn’t fall asleep without tying a string to her finger all night long, she’d give that string the tiniest tug to make sure I was still there. And I’d tug back. That was love. That was love. As easy as that. Sometimes. Sometimes.
Anonymous asked: What do you do when you know in your heart you should let go of certain people in your life but youre too weak to actually do it?
When you know it in your heart, you do let go. Knowing it or suspecting it in your head’s just not enough. I don’t even think it has to do with anyone being either a weak or a tough person — it has to do with emotional awareness. You never fucking let go unless you know it in your soul for real that you must let go. And if you “can’t” do it, It doesn’t mean that you’re not loving yourself enough — it means that your belief in the act of love itself, undoes your disbelief. It means that it’s probably already bigger than yourself. It means that you have no option, actually, it’s like you have no choice but to defend your own truth regarding your own way of loving. Without caring whether it will get across. You might let go in terms of respecting the fact that this person probably just doesn’t want to be an active part of your life anymore (and of course you’re going to be fucking respecting that in case you love them) but, on your part, I don’t think there’s anything you can do. It’s a soul thing — you can’t run away from that. You can’t diminish it, or try to maintain your self-respect, or invent all sorts of distractions just so you can keep yourself alive. That wouldn’t suffice because it doesn’t quite resonate with your heart and so it most definitely feels false and disgusting. And so what do you actually do? Believe me, I wish I knew. I don’t. However, I think you must, must, stay true to your heart. You must. I believe that true letting go requires first to be honest with yourself. You’ve got to be honest with where your heart is. Let them think whatever they want to think. Let them make it appear like something which ceased to matter long ago. If they’ve come to think so then it’s their perfect right to be thinking so and there’s just no use in trying to explain your ways to them. There’s no use in trying to make them understand your way of loving because if they love you, they’ll know. They might have let go first — that’s something else. At any rate, trust your vulnerability. Being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. Sensitvity is not cowardice if it’s idiosyncratic. It’s just human nature. If you can’t help but feeling vulnerable at the moment and letting it show then let it pour out. After all, it’s a part of you and it probably makes you who you are. But it’s not weakness, it’s just called not having a choice […]. I have no fucking clue and I don’t even know why I’m still writing and rambling like this; only thing I know is that true letting go happens (if it ever happens) automatically at some point. When you know for sure. When you feel like it’s just done in your heart.
When people suggest that I date around “just for fun,” I stare at them in bewilderment.
I have “fun” when I feel deeply connected. And when I feel deeply connected, things immediately cease to feel light to me.
I can’t even relax enough to get off until I feel confident that there’s something genuine between me and the person I’m hooking up with. So what’s the point of trying to hook up with randoes?
You know what I get off on? Feeling safe and loved and seen and appreciated. I get off on intimacy.
And how am I supposed to act casual once we’ve achieved/experienced that intimacy?
If you try to grind with me on the dance floor, I’ll probably push you away, look you in the eye, and ask you questions about where you grew up, what your relationship with your family is like, and what your passions are (this actually happened recently).
I either feel something intense for you, or I feel nothing. I’m either extremely attracted to you, or I’m not attracted to you at all. There’s no in-between.
I a) REALLY dig you and therefore, probably want to date you, or b) don’t even want to kiss you.
When I hit it off with people — friends and lovers alike — I generally hit it off with them right away. There’s a sense of immediate recognition. (i.e. The night I met a girl named Suzy who ultimately became one of my very best friends, I went right over to her and said, “You seem familiar. I feel like you and I should know each other.” We went to my car and talked from 9PM to 2AM, and the rest is history…)
I have a hunch that when I meet my future husband, we’ll probably fall in love overnight. When I know, I know, and I can’t fake the funk in either direction: Can’t pretend I want you if I don’t. Can’t pretend I don’t give a fuck when I do.
Just the way it is. VHAT CAN YOU DO? *shrugs*
You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.
Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.”