(no subject)
I'm waiting for blood to flow to my fingers
I'll be alright when my hands get warm
Ignoring the phone
I'd rather say nothing
I'd rather you'd never heard my voice
You're calling too late
Too late to be gracious
You do not warrant long goodbyes.
"What am I to you?"
These five infamous words are what traveled through wires & atmosphere & buzzed beside me, waking me just before midnight a few days ago. They made me chuckle & roll my eyes in halfheartedness. Because I did not ask to be the girl that answers these questions, that wracks her brain in the middle of the night to put at ease the mind of a man without courage enough to asks me in the light of the sun, a man too cowardly to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. A boy.
What kind of fucking question is this anyway? What is ANYONE to ANYONE else? When will we let go of this itching compulsion to label the people in our lives, fitting them into categories-- "Will Hurt Me," "Will Not," "Will Love Me," "Cannot Love", "Love,"--amidst the hope that this organization will make the fucked up process that goes on inside any less exhausting or gruesome or complicated? When will we learn that the forcing and shoving to make things fit will not get us any closer to the truth? The mess carries on regardless of what we call it. It blows, really really blows, but that is the truth, and I sure as hell won't pretend that lettering the outside of boxes with permanent marker will make it any less messy. It's cheap. So no, sir. I will not give you the satisfaction of naming myself to you. Not here, not now. I am more than that. I am an almost 21-year-old woman who spends too much time driving and not enough time living. I am funny and sensitive and I can cook a few things better than you can. I am often embarrassing, always cursing, and rarely ashamed. People love me, and I love people. Many of them have walked out of my life and I am so far passed missing them that I hardly remember the sound of their voices. I am afraid of a few irrational things but brave where it counts. I grew up a little poorer than some, in a house filled with more love than I could have hoped for. I believe in the beauty of this world and the people inside of it and it's okay if you laugh at me, but it's what keeps me alive. I drink too much wine and smoke too many cigarettes and sometimes forget to brush my teeth in the morning. I need silence and space to absorb the world and put my feelings somewhere safe. I need to laugh, I need to make you laugh but I also need to cry, and I need to make you cry. I need coffee in the morning and to hear my mother's voice every day. I am a woman who will love her best friend more than she loves you. I am a woman who is increasingly skeptical and cynical about relationships. I am a girl with silly deep-down dreams, who believes only in her own love of things, and thinks that maybe it is enough to change you--to fix you--but knows that it won't. I may never learn this lesson. I am a woman who sometimes still sneaks into my mother's bed to sleep while she snores because my fear of losing her takes my breath away. I believe in gardens, democracy, and the healing power of chocolate. I am awesome. I can love, I can give, and still I was not enough for you.
That is who I am. What you do with all these truths is for you to decide. But I will not build your life for you. I will not pave an easier path. I deserve more. I deserve contemplation, and restlessness, and hours of tossing and turning in bed, and tears and blood and sweat., and blisters on your hands from climbing whatever mountains stood between the two of us. And if these are things you cannot give, then I feel sorry for you. Because that is what love is--moving mountains. You can take your five words, and you can shove them up your ass. Because I am worth more.
Through the water
Through the rain
To the soul of everything
Throw my heart out on the stones
And I'm almost gone
I'll be alright when my hands get warm
Ignoring the phone
I'd rather say nothing
I'd rather you'd never heard my voice
You're calling too late
Too late to be gracious
You do not warrant long goodbyes.
"What am I to you?"
These five infamous words are what traveled through wires & atmosphere & buzzed beside me, waking me just before midnight a few days ago. They made me chuckle & roll my eyes in halfheartedness. Because I did not ask to be the girl that answers these questions, that wracks her brain in the middle of the night to put at ease the mind of a man without courage enough to asks me in the light of the sun, a man too cowardly to look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. A boy.
What kind of fucking question is this anyway? What is ANYONE to ANYONE else? When will we let go of this itching compulsion to label the people in our lives, fitting them into categories-- "Will Hurt Me," "Will Not," "Will Love Me," "Cannot Love", "Love,"--amidst the hope that this organization will make the fucked up process that goes on inside any less exhausting or gruesome or complicated? When will we learn that the forcing and shoving to make things fit will not get us any closer to the truth? The mess carries on regardless of what we call it. It blows, really really blows, but that is the truth, and I sure as hell won't pretend that lettering the outside of boxes with permanent marker will make it any less messy. It's cheap. So no, sir. I will not give you the satisfaction of naming myself to you. Not here, not now. I am more than that. I am an almost 21-year-old woman who spends too much time driving and not enough time living. I am funny and sensitive and I can cook a few things better than you can. I am often embarrassing, always cursing, and rarely ashamed. People love me, and I love people. Many of them have walked out of my life and I am so far passed missing them that I hardly remember the sound of their voices. I am afraid of a few irrational things but brave where it counts. I grew up a little poorer than some, in a house filled with more love than I could have hoped for. I believe in the beauty of this world and the people inside of it and it's okay if you laugh at me, but it's what keeps me alive. I drink too much wine and smoke too many cigarettes and sometimes forget to brush my teeth in the morning. I need silence and space to absorb the world and put my feelings somewhere safe. I need to laugh, I need to make you laugh but I also need to cry, and I need to make you cry. I need coffee in the morning and to hear my mother's voice every day. I am a woman who will love her best friend more than she loves you. I am a woman who is increasingly skeptical and cynical about relationships. I am a girl with silly deep-down dreams, who believes only in her own love of things, and thinks that maybe it is enough to change you--to fix you--but knows that it won't. I may never learn this lesson. I am a woman who sometimes still sneaks into my mother's bed to sleep while she snores because my fear of losing her takes my breath away. I believe in gardens, democracy, and the healing power of chocolate. I am awesome. I can love, I can give, and still I was not enough for you.
That is who I am. What you do with all these truths is for you to decide. But I will not build your life for you. I will not pave an easier path. I deserve more. I deserve contemplation, and restlessness, and hours of tossing and turning in bed, and tears and blood and sweat., and blisters on your hands from climbing whatever mountains stood between the two of us. And if these are things you cannot give, then I feel sorry for you. Because that is what love is--moving mountains. You can take your five words, and you can shove them up your ass. Because I am worth more.
Through the water
Through the rain
To the soul of everything
Throw my heart out on the stones
And I'm almost gone