a bad day for eyeliner
there is a hole in my chest about the size of a brick.
it weighs about the same.
these poor shoulders
this poor heart.
over the last few hours i keep going in and out of feeling so connected with myself and completely blank. void. the sun just came peeking out. i can see it on my arm but i can't feel it. and now i'm crying again. it feels better when i cry. though i have caught myself smiling at least twice. what is it to say that you love someone after everything is different? to mean it. to want them around. to touch them. to crawl into that nook inbetween their shoulder and chin. it feels bigger than angry. which is my usual means for letting go. hating something feels huge. huge is strong. strong enough to say i don't need you anymore. that you didn't hurt me. but i am hurt. and i don't hate him. for some reason yesterday i found it within myself to say the exact thing that i've always avoided saying. sure, i had my legs tucked up against my body like a 4-year-old, and nervously licked my lips until they were raw, but that was only because saying it out loud meant that i couldn't shrug it off anymore as being a passing thing. as a whim. voicing it meant that we would both know it was true. that it was out there. and it wasn't going to leave any room for the familiar escape of denial.
this feels bigger. like something i can wrap myself around. and once that brick melts away i think i might even be glad that he's become this new thing to me. this brave thing inside of me.
it weighs about the same.
these poor shoulders
this poor heart.
over the last few hours i keep going in and out of feeling so connected with myself and completely blank. void. the sun just came peeking out. i can see it on my arm but i can't feel it. and now i'm crying again. it feels better when i cry. though i have caught myself smiling at least twice. what is it to say that you love someone after everything is different? to mean it. to want them around. to touch them. to crawl into that nook inbetween their shoulder and chin. it feels bigger than angry. which is my usual means for letting go. hating something feels huge. huge is strong. strong enough to say i don't need you anymore. that you didn't hurt me. but i am hurt. and i don't hate him. for some reason yesterday i found it within myself to say the exact thing that i've always avoided saying. sure, i had my legs tucked up against my body like a 4-year-old, and nervously licked my lips until they were raw, but that was only because saying it out loud meant that i couldn't shrug it off anymore as being a passing thing. as a whim. voicing it meant that we would both know it was true. that it was out there. and it wasn't going to leave any room for the familiar escape of denial.
this feels bigger. like something i can wrap myself around. and once that brick melts away i think i might even be glad that he's become this new thing to me. this brave thing inside of me.