first steps
and so i dress up for my misery as if it's a hot date. tonight will be ridiculous. acknowledging it is the first step. living it is a whole new game to preoccupy myself. we'll see, how pathetically bored i've become. what the future looks like one day at a time. i feel like i have goat eyes, i can't take myself seriously much less these absurd ambitions. dear drama, i quit you.
UPDATE:
(warning: i'm having one of those emotions, all the kids have been talking about. i hear it's all the rage in europe)
i would say it went splendidly, if i didn't have to swallow so quickly the confrontation of my disenchanting acknowledgment. if i didn't have to speak so timidly and honestly to someone so sweet their skin is thin. how are these conversations had 2045 miles apart? when i'd rather be enveloping him in my arms and soul speaking not shyly or rudely just easily with truth. not with shame, or regret, or explanation. it is what it is, so naked in front of you.
and they say in a voice that already feels withdrawn, "that's what i was scared of, and yet i feel just the same."
but i've been down that road before, people that spin fantastical ideas of being able to cope with harsh realities, it unravels so unpleasantly in the most viscous fashion. sweet sweet boy, too young to accept the history, but not so young he could go without asking or knowing or assuming.
i don't know how not to intimidate people. i certainly don't know how to love them without spoiling it with a sickness. but sometimes i find myself sad, nice boys weren't meant to like girls like me. and i find myself wondering what did he really expect? more importantly what did i expect.
at the cliffside of great expectations, who's willing to take the risk of trust? who's willing to pursue something so imperfect? who's willing radical honesty so young and naive, so old and battered? who's willing to fall?
i'm not holding my breath.
and yet it was such a warm and refreshing moment to be surprised at the sanctuary one sweet and genuine boy could offer in a landslide of self-discovery.
we can rebuild ourselves from the rubble of our broken histories, one brick at a time. we can and have stood against sticks and stones and words thrown and hearts broken, but we no longer fall. we carry the scars and the memories in the layers of ourselves, in the bits of pieces that remake our walls and boundaries, we have character. we have strength and stories, we are landmarks to be celebrated. and sweet boys are just tourists in our humble walls.
but damn if i wasn't a lazy landmark that wanted him to stay a while and adore me.
UPDATE:
(warning: i'm having one of those emotions, all the kids have been talking about. i hear it's all the rage in europe)
i would say it went splendidly, if i didn't have to swallow so quickly the confrontation of my disenchanting acknowledgment. if i didn't have to speak so timidly and honestly to someone so sweet their skin is thin. how are these conversations had 2045 miles apart? when i'd rather be enveloping him in my arms and soul speaking not shyly or rudely just easily with truth. not with shame, or regret, or explanation. it is what it is, so naked in front of you.
and they say in a voice that already feels withdrawn, "that's what i was scared of, and yet i feel just the same."
but i've been down that road before, people that spin fantastical ideas of being able to cope with harsh realities, it unravels so unpleasantly in the most viscous fashion. sweet sweet boy, too young to accept the history, but not so young he could go without asking or knowing or assuming.
i don't know how not to intimidate people. i certainly don't know how to love them without spoiling it with a sickness. but sometimes i find myself sad, nice boys weren't meant to like girls like me. and i find myself wondering what did he really expect? more importantly what did i expect.
at the cliffside of great expectations, who's willing to take the risk of trust? who's willing to pursue something so imperfect? who's willing radical honesty so young and naive, so old and battered? who's willing to fall?
i'm not holding my breath.
and yet it was such a warm and refreshing moment to be surprised at the sanctuary one sweet and genuine boy could offer in a landslide of self-discovery.
we can rebuild ourselves from the rubble of our broken histories, one brick at a time. we can and have stood against sticks and stones and words thrown and hearts broken, but we no longer fall. we carry the scars and the memories in the layers of ourselves, in the bits of pieces that remake our walls and boundaries, we have character. we have strength and stories, we are landmarks to be celebrated. and sweet boys are just tourists in our humble walls.
but damn if i wasn't a lazy landmark that wanted him to stay a while and adore me.