I debated whether or not, I would write about this. Mostly, because I have a policy of keeping this blog frothy and fun, but part of me knows that when I write this I might have people try and force me to talk about something, I just don't want to talk about. And I don’t want to hear about how you were right and I was wrong or how awful he is or blah blah blah. So do me a favor, leave it alone. And let the post be.
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When it all falls horribly apart, I learned that you can in fact cry for 18 hours straight without running out of tears. And that sometimes, people just can't stick, even though they want to. I learned that you can stay in a room for hours and eye the door and the tick of a clock like enemy troops moving ever closer to you. I realized you can spend an enormous amount of time memorizing stupid things, like the order of cd's on the wall and count the blinds hoping that you can bring your mind back to it, like remembering the small details makes anything or everything easier. And that doing the right thing can be the hardest thing. When it all falls horribly apart, I learned that you can blame everyone and you can blame yourself, but that doesn't change the reality. Things are falling horribly apart. And there is not a damn thing you can do to stop it.
I hate this.
More than I ever thought possible I hate this.
I fell for the wrong boy or maybe the right boy and the wrong time. Which I guess ultimately, makes him the wrong boy.
The boy and I, we tried to make it work. I guess that is the clincher huh, when you have to try to make something work, it won't work for long. I know he wanted to be the man I wanted, or the man I needed, or the man he thought I deserved even though all I was asking for was him. But in the end, as he sat there in the dark waning light of day filtering through 21 blinds, all that was left was him telling me that he can't. He just can't. And not because of me or something I did, or that he didn't want to. He just can't. Because there is this hole in him that can't be fixed and now he feels like the only thing to do is be alone for a while and see what is out there. Learn about himself. Find himself. Because he isn't whole. I bet you didn't know; someone can fall hard for half a man, just like I bet you didn't know you can cry for 18 hours and still not run out of tears.
When it all falls horribly apart, I learned that pity or even kindness even in the hands of friends, feels a lot like a loaded gun. Heavy. Unbearably loud. Deadly.
So I sat there, I cried there, we cried there. Tangled up. Watching the door, listening to clocks, in a vacuum of time, in light sleep, alternately pretending everything is okay and figuring out how to adjust forever to slivers of time. Whispers seem to pop like bubbles. "I love you" "I know" "I'm so sorry" "I know" "I hate you" "I know" "this isn't over" "okay" "I love you" "I know"
When it all falls horribly apart.
You start to wonder what was real and what was your clouded perception of reality. And you start to count backwards, looking for the last perfect day. The day when you didn’t know this was coming.
Until suddenly you find yourself staring at a door, you know you have to open, standing next to the boy you never wanted to lose, breathing and convincing yourself, to leave. Hand on the doorknob, hot like there is a fire on the other side, leave. Leave. Go on Go. Tears seem to still be so easy. You really can cry for 18 hours straight, so you give yourself one horrible, wonderful moment, to just breathe. A million things said, a million things you won’t get to say. Three (ask me to stay), two (tell me to go), one (please be okay) Leave. Push him away and run, run down out of the house, down the street, run.
When it all falls horribly apart.
