(This is an exerpt from my journal written the day after the second incident described below.)
In moments like this, I understand the appeal of a small town. I can see where country songs get their inspiration and I can see where all the things people say about us come from. It's moments like these that I regret wanting to leave after high school, wanting to make it big, wanting to forget this place. Moments like these define a town, they define a community, and they define individuals.
Obama's Inauguration Day, January, 2009.
English class, 3rd period, the class watches patiently and slightly distracted as the inauguration carries about on the TV screen in the corner of the room.
Some students are conversing amongst themselves quietly; others are giving the screen their full attention. Still more are watching, while debating pros and cons of the new president and various other political and moral points.
The man on the screen that has been delivering the most recent speech announces that he would like to lead the crowd, and America, in prayer.
Conversation slides off the edge of a cliff,
complete attention turns to pure analyzation,
debate halts immediately.
The prayer begins.
The class, as a whole, pays their respects. Soon, one by one, the students finish their personal prayers and lift their heads to find the man still praying. One student notices that the man on the screen is from the north; his prayer is in another style.
Here, at home, in the south, people pray to their Lord as if he were their best friend and they needed someone to confide in.
In the north they pray with excellence and awe.
The prayer continues still. Finally the man says the beginnings of The Lord's Prayer.
Like a domino effect, the class begins to mimic his words. We are now reciting the prayer as one, like it is second nature.
The same student that noticed the styles now notices something else. Even though the class has it's problems, it's groups, it's drama, it is still one class.
There is a connection.
We are all in this together,
with our Lord to walk beside us,
to lead in front of us,
to carry us in his arms.
Friday Night, January 24th, Approximately 10:40pm, 2009.
Two girls, best friends, are driving around town. They pull into the gas station to buy a drink. They are standing at the front desk waiting for their change and a crash erupts outside.
They leave the building and place their drinks in the truck. They examine the scene, and cause, of the crash. An 18-wheeler truck had just pulled in and tried to turn. He was hauling tin and the straps had snapped.
There was a variation of metal shapes that littered the ground.
The girls begin to attempt to help the confused driver. Two more boys drive up in another truck. They get out and immediately begin to assist.
Eventually all the tin that has fallen is back on the bed and strapped back down. The group of people walk to the front of the trailer, the source of the problem.
There is an area where the tin has fallen forward to the cab of the truck. The boys first try to push it back on but it is too heavy. A car has pulled up and we believe our problems are solved. It is the sheriff and we are certain he will help.
He steps out of his car, looks, laughs, and leaves.
He had noticed that the driver of the truck was a black man. He was racist.
The group let the fumes subside and turned their attention back to the problem on hand. Soon they were back to trying to find a way to fix the problem.
Another 20 minutes has passed.
A green truck pulls up. The boy that gets out is the sheriff’s son. He grabs a pair of gloves as soon as he understands the situation and tries his best to help.
He has proved himself a better man than his father.
The two girls from the beginning stand back when they realize that they are no longer any assistance.
The group now consists of two girls, three boys, and the driver.
All the kids are joking with each other as they work; poking fun at each other, having a good time, and showing off for the girls. The night continues on and the girls' curfew is nearing.
They each have to be home by midnight, no exceptions.
Soon, the boys stop their attempts and try to come up with a new method.
One boy stays behind while the other two leave to find a forklift.
Before they pull out, the girls say their goodbyes and give them each a hug. They hug the third boy and tell him goodbye as well.
The girls leave in the truck they arrived in.
The girl in the passenger seat realizes
that this is what small town lives are about.
This is how people in small towns
get their respect. They have
manors and know how to help.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Links in The Chain (from my laptop)
Faith.
It can sure take you on a ride,
through a spin,
around the loop,
over a hill,
however you choose to say it.
It gets to us. Religion is a rough topic and can baffle even the most stable of minds. How it brings us to such realizations that we seem to understand for only a blink of an eye! Thoughts and revelations that become so clear that it seems you might combust with the sharpness of their clarity, but then, suddenly, it's gone.
Moments of clarity, or an epiphany, or a revelation, or a clear thought, whichever you prefer. How will we look at these moments once they have passed? Do we look back over our shoulders at them and scoff at our stupidity? Or do we turn to face them fully and smile with warm, open arms to embrace them once more?
I suppose that depends on the thought.
I have my moments, my thoughts, my clarity. More often than not, they are simply stupid ideas that I have a notion to build on, and occasionally act on. What a fool I seem at these moments. I always seem to regret the actions and theatrical performances I carry on with. I regret the actions, yes, but I often remember and cherish the lessons I learn from these stupid concepts.
Consequence.
The aftermath of an action.
The events that follow in a direct relation to the outcome of said action.
Some seem to amount to a great deal more than others. Some appear to be slightly ironic. Some just come about as either happy or irrelevant.
I have tendency to attract ironic and regretful consequences of my idiotic actions. I carry myself into a whirl wind of irrational and emotional events. My logic seems to slip away, fall completely, or simply hide and therefore my emotions take control.
I suppose you could say I have strong emotions because when they take over I become almost barbaric with instinct. If I could only teach myself to hold back my emotions and think logically before I allow my motions to become erotic and uncontrollable!
Perhaps then my actions might not bring about such drastic actions.
In light of such events I feel myself shrink, fill with shame, become vulnerable. My head droops, my shoulders slump, my body curls in on itself, my tears fall freely, my hands tremble, and my breathing comes in gasps. I feel as though I should curl in on myself in shame and realization of my stupidity so that perhaps others might not look at me so.
Shame seems to eat at me and my head begins to ache with the ferocity of its hunger. Shame, vulnerability, and embarrassment are emotions that I dearly love to hate and avoid. Though I try desperately to avoid them, it seems as though it finds me more than others.
These emotions might be hated my such as myself, but I honestly believe that it is good for us as humans, and as Christians (as I am) to help us grow in who we are and to help us understand where we stand in this world. It helps us to comprehend just how small we are in this life and just how unimportant certain things may be.
Faith and Consequence
Two things that I found myself face to face with today.
Faith; being such a simple word, easy to spell and say, short in thength; seems to be the harder of the two to comprehend and explain. More difficult to wrap up and carry around strongly, as though it were heavy, the word itself having the weight.
Consequence; long, complicated, drawn out, and still unsure on exact spelling; becomes the easier lead to carry. Why? Because it is simple, definable, requires no belief, no reason, it's simply a thing, an outcome.
Faith and Consequence: Two concepts I felt the need to explain.
Two things I had to own up to today.
Two words that I needed tested.
Two parts of a larger whole that we call life.
I have faith in my Lord, Jesus Christ and the fact that he faced the consequence we deserved with open arms and saved us from the things we undoubtedly deserved by our actions.
Just two more links in the chain.
It can sure take you on a ride,
through a spin,
around the loop,
over a hill,
however you choose to say it.
It gets to us. Religion is a rough topic and can baffle even the most stable of minds. How it brings us to such realizations that we seem to understand for only a blink of an eye! Thoughts and revelations that become so clear that it seems you might combust with the sharpness of their clarity, but then, suddenly, it's gone.
Moments of clarity, or an epiphany, or a revelation, or a clear thought, whichever you prefer. How will we look at these moments once they have passed? Do we look back over our shoulders at them and scoff at our stupidity? Or do we turn to face them fully and smile with warm, open arms to embrace them once more?
I suppose that depends on the thought.
I have my moments, my thoughts, my clarity. More often than not, they are simply stupid ideas that I have a notion to build on, and occasionally act on. What a fool I seem at these moments. I always seem to regret the actions and theatrical performances I carry on with. I regret the actions, yes, but I often remember and cherish the lessons I learn from these stupid concepts.
Consequence.
The aftermath of an action.
The events that follow in a direct relation to the outcome of said action.
Some seem to amount to a great deal more than others. Some appear to be slightly ironic. Some just come about as either happy or irrelevant.
I have tendency to attract ironic and regretful consequences of my idiotic actions. I carry myself into a whirl wind of irrational and emotional events. My logic seems to slip away, fall completely, or simply hide and therefore my emotions take control.
I suppose you could say I have strong emotions because when they take over I become almost barbaric with instinct. If I could only teach myself to hold back my emotions and think logically before I allow my motions to become erotic and uncontrollable!
Perhaps then my actions might not bring about such drastic actions.
In light of such events I feel myself shrink, fill with shame, become vulnerable. My head droops, my shoulders slump, my body curls in on itself, my tears fall freely, my hands tremble, and my breathing comes in gasps. I feel as though I should curl in on myself in shame and realization of my stupidity so that perhaps others might not look at me so.
Shame seems to eat at me and my head begins to ache with the ferocity of its hunger. Shame, vulnerability, and embarrassment are emotions that I dearly love to hate and avoid. Though I try desperately to avoid them, it seems as though it finds me more than others.
These emotions might be hated my such as myself, but I honestly believe that it is good for us as humans, and as Christians (as I am) to help us grow in who we are and to help us understand where we stand in this world. It helps us to comprehend just how small we are in this life and just how unimportant certain things may be.
Faith and Consequence
Two things that I found myself face to face with today.
Faith; being such a simple word, easy to spell and say, short in thength; seems to be the harder of the two to comprehend and explain. More difficult to wrap up and carry around strongly, as though it were heavy, the word itself having the weight.
Consequence; long, complicated, drawn out, and still unsure on exact spelling; becomes the easier lead to carry. Why? Because it is simple, definable, requires no belief, no reason, it's simply a thing, an outcome.
Faith and Consequence: Two concepts I felt the need to explain.
Two things I had to own up to today.
Two words that I needed tested.
Two parts of a larger whole that we call life.
I have faith in my Lord, Jesus Christ and the fact that he faced the consequence we deserved with open arms and saved us from the things we undoubtedly deserved by our actions.
Just two more links in the chain.
Body Shame (from my laptop)
Did you ever wonder why I would behave the way I would when you got too close to me?
I know I always pushed for more, more love, more closeness, more knowing of each other. I wanted it.
I wanted you to know me better than anyone else in this world knew me. I wanted the feel of your hand close to me. I wanted the touch of your body on my skin like a flowing water. I wanted it all, I wanted you. I pushed you to it, I would ask for more, more, more.
Stop.
I would make you stop. Make myself stop. Shy away. I would pull my body into myself.
Why would I do this? Why would I ask, beg, push for so much more and then when I got close to what I wanted, pull away?
You always asked my that. We were never shy of asking questions. You, Me, You and I, we, us. Questions were never a problem. Answers though, that was a little more difficult. You asked why all the time. Constantly. Pleading with me, wanting me so much, as much as I wanted you. My answers never seemed true enough. Only now do I realize why, and it was because the weren't.
I would let you so close to me, so very very close. You were so lovely to me, your body, your scent, your strength, and the desire coming across your skin to where I could feel, at the lightest touch, how much you wanted me.
I desired you. I needed your touch. I wanted to feel you where no one had the privilege to go. I wanted you to have a part of me that no one else would have. I wanted that secret between us.
Embarrassment. Shyness. Shame.
I always told you that I had made a promise to not let anyone have that part of me, and I had, made the promise I mean. I fully intended to keep it as well. However, that promise did not entail certain things, and I still would not let you near those other things.
Once I did. I let you get to me. I was so caught up in the moment and I was determined to get passed my barriers. I let you go there. It was amazing. Though, still, something was wrong. I had to pull away. I couldn't stand your touch anymore.
It wasn't you, or your skin, or your look, or your smell. It was me, my shame, my embarrassment. I couldn't stand you to know that much of me because I was afraid of my flaws. I was afraid of my imperfection. I had wanted to be the perfect angel you dreamed of. I wasn't. My body, not what I wanted it to be, not what I wanted you to know me as.
I knew you had already been there, I knew you knew, I knew you were already aware. Still, I had to stop it, shy away before my shame enveloped me again.
I wanted you. I wanted you more than you could ever imagine. You were the most important thing to me in the world and I wanted to share so much of myself with you. However, some emotions can simply take control. I didn't want to let them have me before you did, but they did. I lost the battle.
Shame.
Embarrassment.
Shyness.
That is what held me. You know now.
I know I always pushed for more, more love, more closeness, more knowing of each other. I wanted it.
I wanted you to know me better than anyone else in this world knew me. I wanted the feel of your hand close to me. I wanted the touch of your body on my skin like a flowing water. I wanted it all, I wanted you. I pushed you to it, I would ask for more, more, more.
Stop.
I would make you stop. Make myself stop. Shy away. I would pull my body into myself.
Why would I do this? Why would I ask, beg, push for so much more and then when I got close to what I wanted, pull away?
You always asked my that. We were never shy of asking questions. You, Me, You and I, we, us. Questions were never a problem. Answers though, that was a little more difficult. You asked why all the time. Constantly. Pleading with me, wanting me so much, as much as I wanted you. My answers never seemed true enough. Only now do I realize why, and it was because the weren't.
I would let you so close to me, so very very close. You were so lovely to me, your body, your scent, your strength, and the desire coming across your skin to where I could feel, at the lightest touch, how much you wanted me.
I desired you. I needed your touch. I wanted to feel you where no one had the privilege to go. I wanted you to have a part of me that no one else would have. I wanted that secret between us.
Embarrassment. Shyness. Shame.
I always told you that I had made a promise to not let anyone have that part of me, and I had, made the promise I mean. I fully intended to keep it as well. However, that promise did not entail certain things, and I still would not let you near those other things.
Once I did. I let you get to me. I was so caught up in the moment and I was determined to get passed my barriers. I let you go there. It was amazing. Though, still, something was wrong. I had to pull away. I couldn't stand your touch anymore.
It wasn't you, or your skin, or your look, or your smell. It was me, my shame, my embarrassment. I couldn't stand you to know that much of me because I was afraid of my flaws. I was afraid of my imperfection. I had wanted to be the perfect angel you dreamed of. I wasn't. My body, not what I wanted it to be, not what I wanted you to know me as.
I knew you had already been there, I knew you knew, I knew you were already aware. Still, I had to stop it, shy away before my shame enveloped me again.
I wanted you. I wanted you more than you could ever imagine. You were the most important thing to me in the world and I wanted to share so much of myself with you. However, some emotions can simply take control. I didn't want to let them have me before you did, but they did. I lost the battle.
Shame.
Embarrassment.
Shyness.
That is what held me. You know now.
Relished
Sometimes I just want you to take my side.
I want to know that maybe, just maybe, you understand me that I am not always rational and correct, but I try my hardest. I want to be able to cry in front of you, let you see me vulnerable, let you listen to my irrational fears and angers without your judgment. I don't judge you, why can't you offer the same sentiments? I want you to be the one that I talk to when I have a problem or I don't feel well, but can you handle that? Can you not patronize me and make my situation worse? Can you retain from injuring my spirits more? I have never had anyone to talk to that doesn’t try to make me feel inferior and ignorant. I thought that perhaps you would be different. Instead, you take my reaction to the situation, and laugh at me. You mock my actions and scald my morals. I thought you loved me. But if you love me, wouldn't you care more about how you made me feel? I realize that I am most likely wrong, but I just want you to listen and sooth. I know already that my actions were irrational and unnecessary, I know already that I was wrong and that I created an unnecessary problem for myself. I am already fully aware of this, but it doesn't mean that I don't want to tell someone my side. It doesn't mean that I don't want the chance to be heard, the idea that someone might care enough to want to know how I felt about something. I thought that I might have found that person in you, but where has that gone? When will you understand that I am still only a girl, and though I act strong, I still have the same emotions as other girls. I still have the same needs, needs to feel protected, held, understood, loved. Though I suppose that I am not meant to feel that just yet. Maybe you aren’t the one that I thought you were supposed to be.
I want to know that maybe, just maybe, you understand me that I am not always rational and correct, but I try my hardest. I want to be able to cry in front of you, let you see me vulnerable, let you listen to my irrational fears and angers without your judgment. I don't judge you, why can't you offer the same sentiments? I want you to be the one that I talk to when I have a problem or I don't feel well, but can you handle that? Can you not patronize me and make my situation worse? Can you retain from injuring my spirits more? I have never had anyone to talk to that doesn’t try to make me feel inferior and ignorant. I thought that perhaps you would be different. Instead, you take my reaction to the situation, and laugh at me. You mock my actions and scald my morals. I thought you loved me. But if you love me, wouldn't you care more about how you made me feel? I realize that I am most likely wrong, but I just want you to listen and sooth. I know already that my actions were irrational and unnecessary, I know already that I was wrong and that I created an unnecessary problem for myself. I am already fully aware of this, but it doesn't mean that I don't want to tell someone my side. It doesn't mean that I don't want the chance to be heard, the idea that someone might care enough to want to know how I felt about something. I thought that I might have found that person in you, but where has that gone? When will you understand that I am still only a girl, and though I act strong, I still have the same emotions as other girls. I still have the same needs, needs to feel protected, held, understood, loved. Though I suppose that I am not meant to feel that just yet. Maybe you aren’t the one that I thought you were supposed to be.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Cornered Lashes
Isn't it strange how memories seem to sneak up on the corners of your eyes at the oddest of times? How they appear to be random, though in the back of our minds we know that something has triggered them. How we wonder what that trigger could have been. At times it is blaringly obvious, but at other times we remain guessing and curious to the point of mental strain.
Moving through my book I spot an old slip of paper, wrinkled and folded, though still timeless. A memory, read again, brought anew.
An elderly couple had just stepped through the barrier of the front doors of the store. A man approaches the counter. A man with the look of a certain degree of scruffiness; somewhat a rough-around-the-edges type. His face was clean-shaven...yeasterday. His hair, under his hat, shot out over his ears and across his neck; just long enough to tickle the ends against the collar of his shirt. His ears were peirced, twice each, and both were gauged to what might have been a size 4 and sported some wooden toggle-like knobs. He had a charming disposition, something in the way he watched theings around him, like through a large window. As if he could see everything, but he wasn't really there, he was just on the edge of the scene. He watches the elderly couple leave and a sigh escapes him. A mutter, "amazing." A quiet pause, soft, like butterfly wings.
"Excuse me, but what is 'amazing'?"
His eyes shine softly as he raises his face to mine, he smiles at me with a kind smile, his reply was honest.
"It's amazing when two people who have been together so long can still wake up every morning and smile at each other."
I smile as I give him his change.
"You have a nice day." He says.
"You, too." says I.
I still have this small sheet of paper. It sits beside me now as I copied it onto here. It's mere simplicity makes me smile. I love that the moment in which it happened was such a simple and innocent piece of time.
-Daniel by Bat For Lashes-
Daniel when I first saw you
I knew that you had
A flame in your heart
And under under our blue skies
Marble movie skies
I found a home in your eyes
We’ll never be apart
And when the fires came
The smell of cinders and rain
Perfumed almost everything
We laughed and laughed and laughed
And in the golden blue
Cryin’ took me to the darkest place
And you have set fire to my heart
When I run in the dark, Daniel
To a place that’s worst ?
Under a sheet of rain in my heart
Daniel
I dream of home
But in a goodbye bed
With my arms around your neck
Into our love the tears crept
Just catch in the eye of the storm
And as my heart ran round
My dreams pulled me from the ground
Forever to search for the flame
For home again
For home again
When I run in the dark, Daniel
To a place that’s worst, Daniel
Under a sheet of rain in my heart, Daniel
I dream of home
When I run in the dark, Daniel
To a place that’s worst, Daniel
Under a sheet of rain in my heart, Daniel
I dream of home
Moving through my book I spot an old slip of paper, wrinkled and folded, though still timeless. A memory, read again, brought anew.
An elderly couple had just stepped through the barrier of the front doors of the store. A man approaches the counter. A man with the look of a certain degree of scruffiness; somewhat a rough-around-the-edges type. His face was clean-shaven...yeasterday. His hair, under his hat, shot out over his ears and across his neck; just long enough to tickle the ends against the collar of his shirt. His ears were peirced, twice each, and both were gauged to what might have been a size 4 and sported some wooden toggle-like knobs. He had a charming disposition, something in the way he watched theings around him, like through a large window. As if he could see everything, but he wasn't really there, he was just on the edge of the scene. He watches the elderly couple leave and a sigh escapes him. A mutter, "amazing." A quiet pause, soft, like butterfly wings.
"Excuse me, but what is 'amazing'?"
His eyes shine softly as he raises his face to mine, he smiles at me with a kind smile, his reply was honest.
"It's amazing when two people who have been together so long can still wake up every morning and smile at each other."
I smile as I give him his change.
"You have a nice day." He says.
"You, too." says I.
I still have this small sheet of paper. It sits beside me now as I copied it onto here. It's mere simplicity makes me smile. I love that the moment in which it happened was such a simple and innocent piece of time.
-Daniel by Bat For Lashes-
Daniel when I first saw you
I knew that you had
A flame in your heart
And under under our blue skies
Marble movie skies
I found a home in your eyes
We’ll never be apart
And when the fires came
The smell of cinders and rain
Perfumed almost everything
We laughed and laughed and laughed
And in the golden blue
Cryin’ took me to the darkest place
And you have set fire to my heart
When I run in the dark, Daniel
To a place that’s worst ?
Under a sheet of rain in my heart
Daniel
I dream of home
But in a goodbye bed
With my arms around your neck
Into our love the tears crept
Just catch in the eye of the storm
And as my heart ran round
My dreams pulled me from the ground
Forever to search for the flame
For home again
For home again
When I run in the dark, Daniel
To a place that’s worst, Daniel
Under a sheet of rain in my heart, Daniel
I dream of home
When I run in the dark, Daniel
To a place that’s worst, Daniel
Under a sheet of rain in my heart, Daniel
I dream of home
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Sorrows Barely Wanted
I'm so sorry.
I think I hurt you more than I could comprehend at the time.
I pushed you away. I didn't trust you. I didn't believe you. I chose, I had to choose, but I still don't know if I chose right. I loved you, loved you with my everything. I wanted only you for the rest of my life. I still have nightmares. They are happy dreams; all bright, shining, smiling, laughing; but I wake up scared, alone, afraid, lost. My dreams hold you in my arms, hold our children against me, walk through our home, live in our hopes. I shattered those hopes for both of us. I killed our children. I murdered our lives together. I'm some new kind of monster, a monster that blindly devours wishes and dreams, love and happiness, hopes and prayers.
I'm so very sorry for what I did to you, to me, to us.
I am always second guessing myself, always being reminded of you, always wanting something back, always comparing them to you.
It's not that I don't have anyone else that wants me, it's just that all the ones that want me, only want me. They don't love me, they don't even really like me at all. I can't keep substituting want and desire for love. It only seems to open old wounds, make them sting and burn again.
You are so far the only person that knows everything. You can read me, even things I never told you, you knew. You know my bad habbits and my fears. You know my best spots and my worst. You know my every move and muscle. You know more of my body than either I or my mother or even my doctor knows. You know when I behave what way and you know when to ask me what's wrong.
I don't cry for people often. I didn't even cry a whole lot when my great grandparents died. You probably have the largest tear jar from me. My father makes me cry a lot as well, but not often for him, more for the people he talks about. You have tears of joy, of sorrow, of fear, of angst, of betrayl, of regret. You own the most laughs and smiles as well. Smiles of true happiness, bashfullness, embarassment, memories, understanding, wanting, desire, content, love. Laughs of tickles, funny moments, remarkable recoveries, phrases, movies, touches, unexpected courage. You own more of me than anyone I know, and it's things that I can never get back, no matter how often I push you away or how often I try to deny you now.
I am so sorry for doing this to you. You have to be taking it better than I though, you seem to have a nice life going for you. I believe you aredoing well at trying to move on. If only I could let you go, if only I didn't feel the need to talk to you first, to tell you first, to have you know everything about me. You don't even care when I tell you, I don't know why I hang on so hard, so desperately. You don't want me. You just want me to go away, to leave so you can move on. You want me to leave you alone so I can stop hurting you.
I am a cruel person. I don't want to be cruel.
I think I hurt you more than I could comprehend at the time.
I pushed you away. I didn't trust you. I didn't believe you. I chose, I had to choose, but I still don't know if I chose right. I loved you, loved you with my everything. I wanted only you for the rest of my life. I still have nightmares. They are happy dreams; all bright, shining, smiling, laughing; but I wake up scared, alone, afraid, lost. My dreams hold you in my arms, hold our children against me, walk through our home, live in our hopes. I shattered those hopes for both of us. I killed our children. I murdered our lives together. I'm some new kind of monster, a monster that blindly devours wishes and dreams, love and happiness, hopes and prayers.
I'm so very sorry for what I did to you, to me, to us.
I am always second guessing myself, always being reminded of you, always wanting something back, always comparing them to you.
It's not that I don't have anyone else that wants me, it's just that all the ones that want me, only want me. They don't love me, they don't even really like me at all. I can't keep substituting want and desire for love. It only seems to open old wounds, make them sting and burn again.
You are so far the only person that knows everything. You can read me, even things I never told you, you knew. You know my bad habbits and my fears. You know my best spots and my worst. You know my every move and muscle. You know more of my body than either I or my mother or even my doctor knows. You know when I behave what way and you know when to ask me what's wrong.
I don't cry for people often. I didn't even cry a whole lot when my great grandparents died. You probably have the largest tear jar from me. My father makes me cry a lot as well, but not often for him, more for the people he talks about. You have tears of joy, of sorrow, of fear, of angst, of betrayl, of regret. You own the most laughs and smiles as well. Smiles of true happiness, bashfullness, embarassment, memories, understanding, wanting, desire, content, love. Laughs of tickles, funny moments, remarkable recoveries, phrases, movies, touches, unexpected courage. You own more of me than anyone I know, and it's things that I can never get back, no matter how often I push you away or how often I try to deny you now.
I am so sorry for doing this to you. You have to be taking it better than I though, you seem to have a nice life going for you. I believe you aredoing well at trying to move on. If only I could let you go, if only I didn't feel the need to talk to you first, to tell you first, to have you know everything about me. You don't even care when I tell you, I don't know why I hang on so hard, so desperately. You don't want me. You just want me to go away, to leave so you can move on. You want me to leave you alone so I can stop hurting you.
I am a cruel person. I don't want to be cruel.
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