Tuesday, February 10, 2009

didn't get a last kiss or a last fuck. just a letter and silence for a month.
so now when I masturbate I think about him. I think about his beautiful dick and the noises he'd make as he got closer to orgasm. I think about how he'd grasp me and moan as his motions got jerkier. he'd come on my back or flip me over and come in my mouth or on my chest. they were such good noises. such good feelings. I miss them.
compared to the sex I've been having, he was ok. but I would much rather be having sex with him than with the person I am now. having sex when in love, when there is a connection, is always more fulfilling. I don't fall in love from sex anymore. I used to do that and it was a problem. sex without love fulfills a biological function. a need. but it doesn't fill me the way sex with him did.
I never got a goodbye kiss or one last fuck. just a letter with some excuses followed by a month of avoidance.
he broke all my patterns. I still want him back. and that's a new one, too. you know what else will be new? not getting him.
this still hurts. there is a deficit. I don't know how to collect.
can't connect.

11:06 p.m.

Monday, February 9, 2009

"what happened to your compassion?" and he only said, "you don't know, you don't know." He's the only person I know who repeats himself like he's in a movie. maybe there are other people who do, and that's how it made it into hollywood. or maybe hollywood just made itself into him.
I screamed, "you HURT me, deliberately." and he has no answers for me. I say things, he sidesteps. we've both made an art out of misdirection. If only we could both cut to the core of our bullshit and say what we know to be true. say what we really mean.
I think we could get there. it's hard to let down defenses. I have been trying, I have been trying to recognize when I am being petty and when I am not saying what I mean. I am trying so hard to see the world for what it is. it's hard to learn how to do that in a culture that thrives on disguise and deceit.
I miss him. he misses me. I have spent so much time convincing myself that things are better off with us separate that it came as a total shock to me yesterday when I broke down completely and told him that I want to be with him. I can't tell how my heart is beating. it could go either way; single or together. I know, at this point, that I could go either way and it would be fine. I am perched on a precipice, waiting for the wind to change so I can figure out which way it will blow me. over the ocean or back to the cliff side? walk away or just ... fly?
the next weeks will be telling. I hope he figures out how to stop lying. I hope he realizes how important follow-through is. I hope he sees how the people around him are hurting because of his inaction. I hope for a lot of things. I still have hope.
I would do anything for us. For us. and I can't explain why. except that once upon a time we were going to be together and now that we're not everything feels skewed. he has been the cause of so much of my growth. I want I want. I love him. love isn't enough, but I think it's a start.

06:38 a.m.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

his mom talking about my art, about the drawings she finds that I left there. and of course I think of him and how we would go to visit his parents. and she talks about her husband and the paper work he's been doing regarding the death of their younger son and I feel myself choke up. because without anyone to talk to about it (and I don't talk to anyone about aj, no one but his family, somehow I just can't) I am able to ignore it a little. it gets blotted out by the daily routine. except last night he visited me in a dream and he seemed happy and wanted rob and I to move on. move on? let go? what does he even mean?
every day is a struggle to move on, to let go. let go of my anger, let go of despair, realize that "this too shall pass." every feeling is ephemeral. so that person yelled shit at me from their car while I'm huffing up an icy hill on my bike: I think "they must be having a bad day to feel the need to take it out on me." but first I think "fuck you." try to change the reflex. try to let go. try to move on.
it gets easier with practice.
but sometimes the absurdity of the situation hits me. aj is dead. robbie broke up with me. how am I supposed to do anything but cry? I love that family so much, and I get so angry at aj for dying. and I get so angry at robbie for leaving me. but mostly I am sad and I want someone to hold me.
I want to call robbie and talk to him about aj. I want to see him and hold his hands and listen to his stories. I want to recapture oregon. everything felt different there. every day was a discovery.
there are no answers. at the core of things, I am so sad. it is still and quiet and sad. I have fun, and I laugh, and I let the bad times roll off me. and I am single but my heart is still with him. I call my best friend instead of calling him, but it isn't the same. how could it be.
how can anything be how it used to be? it can't. it never will be.
we have all changed so drastically.
will it ever settle down? will things ever feel like life again? right now it's all recovery. when does the healing end and the living start again? I don't know. this has never happened to me before.
I think back and I am ashamed about how I treated him. he was so sweet and kind and wonderful and I was a moody, distrustful wreck. I'm amazed that he stayed with me for as long as he did. he saw something there that I didn't. when he stopped seeing that, he left. that's my interpretation. maybe he got tired of waiting.
so many coulda-shoulda-wouldas. "move on, let it go," says a smiling aj, his hands on our shoulders. we are in a cave and it is dark and moist. he speaks through me. I am him. he is me. he is in my chest and he talks to rob. he talks to other people. but he isn't me, he is in front of me. or he is above me. but he thinks it's important to help me. he didn't even know me. we coulda shoulda woulda connected at some point.
if he hadn't died.
but every thing would be different then. welcome to the world. stuff happens. things change. this just happened to be bigger than usual, right? this one happened to be a brother. everyone that dies could have been a brother or a sister or a mother or a father. everyone was someone to someone else. those connections scare me. it feels too big, and I am crushed beneath it.
I feel old, and small, and tired. I want to burrow beneath myself and find some hollow place to wait out the winter. and when I emerge I want things to be green and I want our love to flower again and I want him to see me and me to see him and us to slowly get to know each other and fall in love again.
but instead I will go to school, and learn, and work, and learn, and spend time with friends, and learn, and spend time alone, and learn. I will think of him often, and make a painting about his brother, and I will keep writing. I will continue to create. without creation, I am nothing. without expression, I am nothing.
I love you, robbie.

08:04 p.m.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

I said, aj died and since then everything has felt more real. after the numbness wore away. when the numbness does wear away.
I said, whenever I see anything with two brothers in it, it makes me think of him. any curious little boy, any sweet mischievous little boy makes me think of him. I can so clearly picture him as a little boy. I want to say this isn't fair but what is fair? what if this is fair? who determines that?
I said, I said, I just wanted to check in. it isn't important. but maybe everything we say to each other is important, is deadly important. maybe entire worlds hinge on what we say to each other. maybe lifetimes depend on our actions. we can see it. we can only see our past stream out behind us; our future unfurl like a single ribbon. you can't walk a path without setting a foot on it.
I think about walking with him at night, that specific night. his parents had gone to sleep, his brother was dead, we were walking through riverside and he was telling me his memories. I remember fucking against a tree and then the picnic table. I was wearing the raccoon hat and we were mostly naked in the autumn night. we warmed each other. we found a way.
I have been crying again lately. I guess this is the second or third or fourth wave. I can't fuck this pain away. I can't hide it with new friends. my dreams don't destroy it. no flirtations will cure it. I am contemplating celibacy. don't you understand? all other relationships feel fake. everything feels like I'm just trying to replace him. and I can't. he is irreplaceable.
I will never find anyone else like him. I will never love like that. I will never dream like that. I will never have the kind of secret hope that I had with him.
I said I'm different now. I am. I see things differently. life doesn't fit together the way it used to, though. I'm missing a piece. I can know I'm not alone, I don't go through this alone, but I still feel alone even with that knowledge. because it didn't have to be this way.
he said, he said his brother wasn't supposed to die. that is as true as my feeling that he wasn't supposed to leave me. these are equal truths. but how true are they? they are inextricably connected. and everything has changed.
and everything keeps changing.
I let it happen to me. I feel the flow and sometimes I am immobile in it and I get that pain in my wrist and sometimes I just float on with it and those are the good days.
I need to burn the letter he gave me the day he said, "this isn't working." its presence hurts me. I can't read it again and I don't think I need to.
what do I do today? carry on. what will I do tomorrow? carry on. what will I do in a year? carry on. what can I do? carry on.
"til the night's all gone. come carry on right where we belong."
"there ain't no dream like the one that's real."

10:58 a.m.

Saturday, January 31, 2009

some days, the only thing I can do is keep going.
some days, I find myself spontaneously sobbing, wondering why he isn't there to hold me. I still find myself making plans for us, thinking, "oh, he and I should go out with that person sometime. That'd be really nice." only there isn't an "us" anymore. I am finally thinking the way he used to. I understand so much more now. the irony does not escape me.
and that change has been both by accident and by design. things I wanted to do anyway but which were prompted by the pain. and my roommate says that heart break from a death and heart break from the loss of a relationship are two very different things. I agree.
there's feeling left behind, then there's being left behind. there's feeling inadequate, then there's being inadequate. there's the insecurity that comes from rejection. I have been rejected. I have been left behind. I have been found lacking. so ironic, so ironic, that I can be the things now that he wanted then. but it's too late. I know, because I've seen this before from the other side.
death is death is death and so permanent. breaking up is not. it's a choice to leave someone and a choice to stay apart. it's seeing that person you ache for continue live while you feel dead without them. every time you look at them, you feel the death of what was and what could have been.
and everything, everything drudges up his image. my old pattern was him. my strength was him.
yes I can stand on my own two feet but things were so much more fulfilling when there were four. yes I can live by myself but I could be so much happier with him. yes I can have my own dreams but I loved the ones we shared. and I have to let it go let it go let it go. my wrist aches and that's how I know I'm not doing that.
so I cry in the laundry room, sitting on the concrete floor. leaning again the washer, I cry. I cry quietly. don't want to attract attention. I've learned how to cry so it's just for me and no one else. no one to hear and comfort me. no one to impress. no one around to try to capture their attention. no one to "enable" me. I am on my own, I am not alone, but I feel like I am sometimes.
I miss him. I miss changing with him. sometimes it feels like my heart is in stasis. I still feel so connected to him. I wonder if he feels it too?
when (if) our hearts mend, who will we be? what will look beautiful, what will satisfy? will anyone ever feel as comfortable as he did, emotionally, spiritually, physically, mentally? will anyone else joke like he did and laugh like he did and touch my hair like he did? can anyone really take his place?
I don't know, I don't think so, I'm not sure. I need him. I do. I'm a little ashamed to admit it. some days are easier than others. the times when I'm happy, I miss him the most because I wish he was there to share it with me. I think, "he would have loved this" and I wish I could share it with him.

11:23 p.m.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

sometimes the pain is too deep. then another cut comes along and makes me feel it and all I can do is weep, weep, weep until I pass out or relax. I feel the pain, I feel their pain, I feel the loss and can't stop. I can't stop feeling it. I wait for it to become too much again so I can be numb and fall asleep. but I won't sleep. I'll toss and turn like I've been doing. and I'll dream of him again, like I've been doing. I'll dream of my river otter.
and it hurts hurts hurts that he is not beside me. when the pain comes, when his pain and his mom's pain hits me, the loss is a physical hole in my chest. it is aching and gaping and I scream into my pillow and wonder why he isn't beside me. why isn't he here so that we can cry together?
it is loss piled on top of loss on top of loss on top of loss. I feel numb again. everything in my life feels suddenly meaningless because I will never understand what goes on inside of him. when he gives me these small glances I cry at the honesty and the beauty. I cry at simplicity. I cry because he hurts and I don't want him to. everything feels wrong again. all my stupid actions feel worthless. and I miss him.
I think of happier times when we would ride bikes together and laugh at everything. wrestling in the snow, on the grass, in bed, off bed, in the kitchen. making out leaning up against a window sill or shower wall or standing in a parking lot and not caring who saw. his smile, I miss his smile more than anything. I keep trying to draw it but I never get it right. I get dimpled chin, mole over left eyebrow, rounded cheeks, messy hair, and the smile is almost there. The shape is there but it's still not right. that smile kills me. his laughter. his happiness.
I feel like I was forced out of a life. I was pushed off the boat and made it to shore and now I have to make a life for myself in a foreign land. "this isn't what I signed up for! this wasn't part of my plans!" yeah, well, what is?
I want to hold him and hold him and hold him and hold him and take all his pain away. I can't. he won't let me do the one and the second.. well .. if I could do that don't you think I would have back in october?

10:18 p.m.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

just the weekend update
folded my dreams into paper phoenixes. smudged sage and watched them burn. watched us burn. fanned the flames as I mumbled to myself. forgiveness, anger, hurt, acceptance. jeanne said, "I'm worried you've gone through the stages of grief too quickly." me? I've just found a way to deal. I say, "I still cry and I get angry but I have found a way to let it go." and to an extent, yes. I have.
feel the energy flow out through my right palm, feel the letting go. repeat, "I cannot control anyone but myself" and all the tension eases. but then but then .. a message asking if we can get together this weekend and I felt like I'd been struck a physical blow. rapid heart, lightness, dizzy.
not what I'd expected from him or me. what else does he need to say?
I love him and I will love him in the future. I want him and I will want him in the future. but he has made his choice and I have in return made mine. people change, baby. people figure out how to go on.
now is the time. why wait for anything?
now is not the time. wait a little longer.

12:25 a.m.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

clarity!
I remembered how I'd been doing it.
I cannot control him or anyone else. I only have control over me, my actions, my reactions. I have no power over him. He makes his own choices, as I make mine. We both must do what we feel is best for ourselves. I must trust that he is doing what he believes is best, as I must trust that I am doing what I believe is best.
I can either hang on and stagnate or accept things and let it go.
I breathe in, and the air is clear. I breathe out, and feel the negativity leave.
One slip in two weeks seems like a good track record to me.
Hello, positivity.

10:19 a.m.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

something doesn't feel right today.
is it not enough sleep? not enough to eat? stress about my new schedule? stress about new classes?
I don't know, I hadn't really been feeling very stressed at all until today. I haven't really been worrying about anything. then last night I started crying as I folded all those cranes and the feeling just hasn't gone away.
today I finished the transformation. all the paper cranes are now paper phoenixes, sitting in a box and waiting to burn.
I mean be reborn.
tomorrow it will be a week since I saw him, be a week since he said he'd call me. I wonder if he really will call me. I wonder what he'll say. and that's it. as the days get closer to the week mark, I get sadder and lonelier.
today I cried a minimum of three times while talking to my ukranian friend. first it was because he was talking about children. then it was because he was talking about family and how in ukraine people really need each other. in the US, people don't. and third he was talking about love. every thing he said made me think about robbie. family. the family we won't have now. the way robbie seemed to think it was a bad thing to need each other. he wasn't willing to sacrifice every thing to love. the US is fucked up. yeah, so is ukraine, but when people get together there apparently they stay together. they work it out. fuck.
and here I am, bathed in bitter. kept thinking today "what the hell do he and kristen have in common?" like kristen's the thing keeping him away from me. she isn't. she's just a symptom of the larger problem. you know, the problem of robbie not dealing.
and me? where is my clarity? I can't help but feel that things will drift back over to the zen side after I burn these phoenix letters. symbolism has become important to me. it always has been, but I'd repressed it. visualization has always helped me to feel better. I want to chant, I want to sit still and open up myself to the universal energy I so strongly believe in. but really I just want to hold him again and be held and figure out some way to help him be strong. I want to help him figure out how to help himself. I want to be there for him. I want to be his partner.
I want. I want. I want. I must destroy want. I must open my eyes. I must be aware. I must not fall down.
Sleep sounds good right now.
I hope he is doing alright. I hope he remembers to call.

09:25 p.m.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

fragments
took our dreams and turned them into paper cranes.

you took my love and left it. I picked it up and turned our dreams into paper cranes.

08:24 a.m.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

lies
wrote a song for you but I couldn't sing it. stuck in my throat and my lungs devoured it. played my horn and it turned on me, just cut me, just took that slide and chooooaked.
fell off a house today, except that I didn't. stayed in my room, and the kitchen, and baked. found your music and listened and it was like a new you. a new me. I found you and I listened.
there's a letter on the way for you, it's going not-so-swiftly and I'm so worried you won't like it. sometimes I forget you ever touched me. but you did, I feel the thumb print on my chest. I feel your thin fingers on my waist. the cold hands that pulled me 'round like a blanket as you leaned into me and sighed. I liked the feel of your neck on my face. I liked to breathe you in.
times I watched your profile to see what I could learn. delicate nose, full lips, sad eyes. you said, "moustaches are bullshit" and every time you needed to express anything you said, "shit." I laughed. I couldn't help it.
you manically making origami, you watching my hands so carefully as I said, "no, this way. you did it wrong. here, let me show you." fold. unfold. fold. unfold. your shadow puppets. beautiful lightning. long and thin and jagged. like you, like your face, like your fingers. I folded. I unfolded. you struck. disaster.
dancing dollar, chasing, finger puppets with real fingers, a backdrop of nothing, and dreams that are haunting me now. why lizards? why love? why anything? why run? there's no winning. there is just a chase. there is just me, and you, and the miles in between. there is me, and no one, and all that that means. empty promises. empty threats. empty chest. full schedule. lift me up and let me see. didn't you notice that I'm short? lend me your shoulders and I won't let you fall. lend me your shoulder and I'll survive.
if you touch me again I might just lose myself. I might have to hear your voice more frequently. I might have to get a new heart. if I feel your foot brush mine again, I'm not sure if I can keep from taking you and telling you how I feel. I wrote you thirty pages and what did it say? "I'm confused, I'm sad, I'm hopeful, I'm lonely, why can't you be someone else, why can't I be someone else, why do I have to miss you, why do I have to miss anyone?"
I dreamt of a farm, and running, and the good and the bad.
I dreamt of a house, and laundry, and someone being lost.
I dream of your eyes, and your hands, and seeing you smile. I want your laugh. I want your voice. I want to decode all your meaning. I want to not want.
and all these defenses that rise up between us
all these intentions that we try to ignore
all these expectations we keep putting behind us
hinging on a telephone call
one week, he said, one week, and every day there is something new I want to say
and the fires I lit, the papers I burned
the flames that I fanned, the clouds that I named
the tree that I climbed, the tears wiped away,
the hospital
the medication
the car
the beach
there are so many things I wanted to describe
now the snow and the heat and this tumultuous rumbling
it comes and it hurts but eventually soothes me.
I put out my arms, wrists upward, and don't feel the slicing. my palms open up and love pours out of me.
I laugh because how can something invisible ever feel so good? I smile and breathe and wonder how certain people are doing.

06:32 p.m.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

a two-fer
felt his beard to find the jaw line. hard and rigid, right angle, finger tips searching and probing. touched the adam's apple, couldn't stop myself. beautiful ribs, protruding spine. his shoulder blades like wings, fluttering against his thin shirt. I was lost. I was gone. cautious. so cautious.
step back, one two. step back, three four. step back and trip and fall and break it all apart. open the dreams and sniff them like I could find that scent, elusive. like I could figure out what makes my head go tick tick, my heart go thump thump. I can't. but it's hands.
it's slender fingers, restless. it's those motions they make and the way they part the air. it's eyes that move so intently, seeing beyond what anyone else does. it's a mind that is somewhere else, planning out a future that is never to be. it's a future. it's the future.
step closer, one two. be caught and feel the warmth or coldness of those veins against my skin. feel the blood running, or lurching, or crawling away. feel it. feel. it.
hold hope on your tongue. feel it melt down the sides, pool in the corners of your mouth and escape. I didn't believe in it for so long. taste it, sweet and burning. claw the throat. let it out.
and the
dreams run
and the
exhale
and the
last breath
and the
goodbye.
goodbye goodbye goodbye. he said goodbye.
I meant
"see you later."

05:18 p.m.