"You were young, I was not old. But our story was not told."
"I ran away in floods of shame. I'll never tell how close I came, as I crossed the hollow road.
You went left and I went right, as the moon hung proud and bright
You would have loved it here tonight."
Amy is definitely using again. Her husband found syringes under their bed, though of course she tried to tell him that they were old. I'd been wanting to discuss my concerns with him since Christmastime, when I looked her in her eyes and my sneaking suspicions were confirmed. I finally had that conversation with him the other day. He said that he'd started noticing inconsistencies in her accounts of her days around the same time that I did, and multiple times caught her nodding on the couch, but she had an excuse for every doubt, and he had no cold, hard proof.
The more we talked, and the more I revealed, the more he tried to look on the bright side and give her the benefit of the doubt. Then I told him some very specific things she had lied to him about, and how she had asked me to lie as well and say she'd been out with me when she really hadn't been. His tone changed and he thanked me and said he was going to confront her that night. I didn't hear from him after that, but I did get en email from her the next day talking about how hurt and confused she is "that one of the few people i would trust with anything does not trust me enough to talk about her fears, about me! or at least doesn't think i will answer honestly. i have worked harder to reach this point than i would have ever thought myself capable of. for almost two years now. and it kills me inside to know you think it is a lie."
There's just way too much story here, even if the details forever remain nothing but the same. I flood myself with it until I'm flung overboard, way too heavy with way too much meaning I can't allow my body to care about. I have a safe heart and a happy home now, I have friends who love me and over the weekend we adventured to an unknown address to check out a street art festival. We surfaced in west Philly, right up the block from God's Basement, the afterparty locale where Amy and I used to dance before we died, and I scrawled memoirs on the walls that were nothing but messages to her.
It's just not worth it anymore. I'll think about everything that's happened and be disappointed for a few days, but I'm already walking away even further than I've ever vanished before, and I know I'll be much better off for having done so.
"We were so much younger then, but not in years, we were empty. My perception was so limited to myself I couldn't care about anybody else. I dedicate everything I have to what has gotten me here and the sacrifices I make are so small in comparison to what someone else might get. Liberation from a past fallen world. A new life. A discovery. I lost the war but I'm free." --midnightbright.livejournal.com
Click to viewYou went left and I went right, as the moon hung proud and bright
You would have loved it here tonight."
Amy is definitely using again. Her husband found syringes under their bed, though of course she tried to tell him that they were old. I'd been wanting to discuss my concerns with him since Christmastime, when I looked her in her eyes and my sneaking suspicions were confirmed. I finally had that conversation with him the other day. He said that he'd started noticing inconsistencies in her accounts of her days around the same time that I did, and multiple times caught her nodding on the couch, but she had an excuse for every doubt, and he had no cold, hard proof.
The more we talked, and the more I revealed, the more he tried to look on the bright side and give her the benefit of the doubt. Then I told him some very specific things she had lied to him about, and how she had asked me to lie as well and say she'd been out with me when she really hadn't been. His tone changed and he thanked me and said he was going to confront her that night. I didn't hear from him after that, but I did get en email from her the next day talking about how hurt and confused she is "that one of the few people i would trust with anything does not trust me enough to talk about her fears, about me! or at least doesn't think i will answer honestly. i have worked harder to reach this point than i would have ever thought myself capable of. for almost two years now. and it kills me inside to know you think it is a lie."
There's just way too much story here, even if the details forever remain nothing but the same. I flood myself with it until I'm flung overboard, way too heavy with way too much meaning I can't allow my body to care about. I have a safe heart and a happy home now, I have friends who love me and over the weekend we adventured to an unknown address to check out a street art festival. We surfaced in west Philly, right up the block from God's Basement, the afterparty locale where Amy and I used to dance before we died, and I scrawled memoirs on the walls that were nothing but messages to her.
It's just not worth it anymore. I'll think about everything that's happened and be disappointed for a few days, but I'm already walking away even further than I've ever vanished before, and I know I'll be much better off for having done so.
"We were so much younger then, but not in years, we were empty. My perception was so limited to myself I couldn't care about anybody else. I dedicate everything I have to what has gotten me here and the sacrifices I make are so small in comparison to what someone else might get. Liberation from a past fallen world. A new life. A discovery. I lost the war but I'm free." --midnightbright.livejournal.com