Friday, October 4, 2013

To silhouettes...

"I love you stupid" was always the implication. I just assumed you omitted the comma for a reason.

I do not know why more addresses do not start with apologies. In moments of greatest strength, they have greatest force. In moments of most weakness, they are perhaps most needed; and in moments that define ordinary continuity, they speak of comprehension.
So yes, I apologize for those tears. All those times I could see them; and all those times when no one could.
I apologize for not listening to your eyes. The smiles began in your eyes. As did the questions. The mirth; and the despair.
And I apologize for those times when I asked you to understand without asking you if you really wanted to.

I do not know why more addresses do not middle with wishes. There is so much that is intended and can be led to fruition if it is just asked for. The problem is, it's never asked for.
So yes, I wish I had more time. It seems all of it was spent glorifying the past and evading the future.
I wish I had better words for worse times.
And I wish I'd heard more of your laughter, for there are times when I fear I will not be able to remember it.

I do not know why more addresses do not end with hope. For even after context is past and recollections are aether, hope persists. And thus, long after context is past and recollections are aether, they are no longer so.
So yes, I hope that you find answers before you find questions. And that you find questions before you find doubt.
I hope you will forget all that you can; and that you will remember all that you must.
And most of all, I hope you ask me again to tell you that story of the first time we met. You do so love it when I do that.

I have asked you to believe in a lot of things for my sake. I intend to ask for another. I want you to believe, more that anything, that you ought never doubt your capacity to affect change. I know that because you've changed me.
There's a kind of strength that comes with being able to let go completely; there's a kind of weakness that comes with holding on. I miss you the way I do, and I do not know why strength appeals to others.
But that matters little, since I know you must leave. But yes, perhaps one day, in the light of a flickering fireplace, you will find a way to come out of memories held in delicate suspension and make it so that the caress of your hands will not be as air on my being anymore.

Goodnight, sweet princess.
You take care of yourself.

13 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. How much more emotional trauma is one person supposed to go through? :)

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  2. Pls pls write more often

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  3. Why are you letting this happen if it means so much to you? I am sure she feels this way too.

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    1. In no particular order:
      1. Entropy.
      2. Reality doesn't always bend to your will. I know this because Firefly.
      3. I've made mistakes along the way. Without really going into the specifics, maybe I just believe there's such a thing as penance.
      4. Pragmatism is much better for peptic ulcers than florid (fulminant?) prose is.

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    2. Please write something soon...

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  4. Here's hoping that all is fine in the process of reality being hurled at us, one way or the other. Cheers! :)

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    1. I get the feeling reality is being done incorrectly if all that it hurls is not dodged completely. I was at your blog earlier. I remain a fan.

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  5. I stumbled upon this while scrolling down twitter last night.
    It feels real. So relatable.
    There often is no reason, I hope either it works or you do get the strength.
    :)

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    1. Or there's chocolate. Copious amounts of chocolate. And denial... but admittedly, that has a distinctly bitter aftertaste.

      Next try, voodoo dolls.

      I'm glad you liked it. :)

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  6. And I have had to prove that I am not a robot in order to post a comment here. Also, I glanced at the date and its 9/11. Not that its relevant. Anyhoo I really hope its you and if it is you I really do wish to talk to you. Not that wishes come true .
    J

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  7. Having very recently (Saturday, in fact) come out of the miasma that is the feeling of ending a relationship, I can tell you it feels liberating. Not liberating because he was abusive, crazy, hurtful, not caring, or any of the other things people tend to associate with the word. Liberating in the sense of realization, that I am whole, with holes that only I can fill in. I will in the future welcome, adore and love a different person in my life, but for now, and for as long as I live, I will turn inside and welcome, love and adore myself. One year of love, and two years of pain, the end result: a new found strength and understanding of people, and more importantly, myself.

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  8. Please write more often

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