The longer I stay in the place, the more and more I think I’m not doing what’s right for me…
——-
“Watched a graffiti documentary last night… It just brought up all these feelings about so many things in my life and boy[relatively speaking], and… just wanting to do something big in my life.. You know? And just how graffiti for people is therapy, it’s a passion, it’s a lifestyle. and I feel like I’ve lost that and that scares the shit out of me…”
I wonder what I’m doing here, what keeps me here, even though I know the answer: My job. And how crazy, or irresponsible it would be to just up an leave, and I know the answer to that too: Very. Something is pulling me though and it’s stronger every day. And I feel a breaking point off on the horizon. There’s a gut feeling when something is right, when something is wrong, and when something is worth going after.
It’s almost been two weeks since you’ve went away. Sometimes I find it hard to feel much of anything about it all, it’s easier to miss you less because of the way and circumstances in which you took your vow of silence, however temporary or not it may be. Resentment patches the spaces between the despondent nostalgia and I can’t help but wonder where the fuck your head is at.
I always scan the railroad crossing for some sign of life. The rain pelted my windsheld as the warning bells sounded on the tracks. I thought about calling, and the I thought about how I probably shouldn’t have the other night. I thought about a lot of things that let me right back to where I was. Ambivalence overwhelms the breaking dawn and that pulse is wearing thin. It’s a beautiful escape plan, I’ve seen it before and again. I’m not worried, but as the minutes pass by I feel my patience wanning ever so lovely.
It’s a beautiful day for a funeral / To bury all these thoughts of hers six feet below / A flower on the coffin that cased her heart / A hymn for the ending that barely had a start
Playing in the ashes of the past / Mourning over things that didn’t last / Tracing memories with fingertips / Fearfully white knuckled grip
When you let go and give in to the fall / Searching in vein to make sense of it all / and if this is what it’s like to be alone / I’ll forgo the battle of making my way home
It’s comfortable in this dead air / Comfortable with the familiarity here / In this silence I can finally hear my thoughts / Drinking it in like it’s all we’ve got
Sometimes, before you [used to] skype me, I’d run and go put some make-up on to make sure I look pretty when you see me. Just like I used to in the airport right after I’d land, before I met you at baggage claim. It was mostly carousel 8, sometimes 9. Sometimes.
I thought it in my head, and the words almost came out my mouth, but you weren’t around to hear them, you weren’t supposed to anyway. They’d shake the earth beneath your feet & send you running for cover from the sudden movement of the parts inside your chest. Only if you can quiet your head. That’s where it starts and ends.
Sleepless nights, a repeat performance, a gentle tug at your heart strings like a moth to a flame.
It’s patience, a slow cadence. It’s anyone’s guess, just nonsense.
Your ears must have been burning that night, or the silence had finally gotten to you too. Slowly creeping out of dreams again, into the waking world. Such keen perception, and opportune timing. And all for what? Guess work and puzzle pieces flung into the tempest, void of reason. Anything seems to go here and all is fair in love and fear. Acting on pragmatic impulses within our chests. Fleeting, constant, constantly fleeting… where does one draw the line to cross it.
Your silence is louder than anything I’ve ever heard before. I find myself looking for answers in the space between your breaths. Sometimes, when dawn breaks I want to retreat under the covers to the depths of my unconscious. You seem keen to linger there longer than anywhere else, even the safest of places. It’s hard to watch you go without an ending, slinking off into the shadows to wait, and I can’t tell anymore if it’s your fault or mine..
Why did you ever come back around
When all you did was let me down
I’ll take the blame for believing in you.
Transmit static laced with words, fallen by the wayside of a high speed chase through crossed wires and no one on the other end of the line.
Remember that night when you called me from DC, and you were being sick all over yourself because you’d drank too much, and you wanted me to stay on the phone with you ’cause it made you feel better? I did. Making sure you were still breathing because I couldn’t get your stupid ass to understand that if you were going to fall asleep, you certainly shouldn’t do it sleeping on your back when you’ve already been sicking up all night. In between the heaving and moments of semi-consciousness you alternated between four phrases. “You’re so pretty”, “What the fuck was I thinking?”, “Thank you for staying here with me” & “This was a bad idea.”
I stayed on the phone 30 minutes after you passed out drunk on the bathroom floor, listening to each inhale and exhale, hoping for the next one. I’ve almost never felt so helpless before.
Sometimes I get anxious when I see a wall. Looking for traces of a name, either mine or one I don’t recognise. Bracing myself. Never that good with words, better when they were on the wall. Little things and the smell of spray paint.
It’s good to keep things quiet, for these exact reasons.
It’s almost as if I’m being reprimanded for something I didn’t do, but I might actually have done, I just don’t remember. I can’t tell if it’s the anxiety or hangover that’s making me tremble slightly.
The thought of catapulting gummy bears from out the car window onto your front lawn crossed my mind, but that’d be a waste of valuable time and gas money so I left them elsewhere and avoided the whole subject entirely.
The terminal is just that, a destination where things terminate. A place at which I was both reluctant and eager to arrive.
“I need to get to sleep soon,” he said. As much as she was reluctant, this was her cue to go and she did. Zipping up boots and gathering belongings he watched her. Just like he had been all night, though less surreptitious than he probably thought. She could see him out of the corner of her eye while watching tv that he kept turning his gaze back to her, searching her face for something. Perhaps a glance back, but she withheld. This girl, posted up on his bed, within reach.
He had layed down next to her for a brief moment. Their bodies gently pressed against one another as if unsure of the delicacy of it all. His hand would fall across his body and rest lightly upon her arm, he would move it elsewhere and then back again. Neither wanting to be the first to move closer or farther. Her head would rest on his shoulder ever so slighty as the calming sound of his erratic breathing pacified her thoughts.
They made their way back outside to the driveway and paused near the car. Hug, one arm, then both. Long as if to hold on to the moment forever. She pulled back and they locked eyes, it was at this point where they momentarily leaned in slightly as if awaiting a goodnight kiss that never came. As she smiled and reluctantly pulled away with the first step his hand made it’s way down her arm and trailed off her hand and fingertips and he watched her go.
She took three steps and then turned around. “Hey wait!” She said. “Yeah?” he responded, turning around. She froze, just staring back at him, wanting to run up in a romantic display of affection and warm her lips with his in the cold night.
“Oh… nevermind.” She said, turned back around and drove away…
Tonight I lied on the floor, in the dark and listened to Radiohead. It was perfect. All the saddest songs in the world played so beautifully that you go numb all the way to the bones.
I learnt that there is not regret in catch and release. I should have known better. And there is no one to blame but myself. Collect the bits and carry on, but nothing hurts more than scar tissue.
1:04:42 AM Sunday, November 28, 2010
1:04:42 AM me: do you have any regrets?
1:05:35 AM s: Totally. But what kind are you talking about specifically?
1:05:50 AM me: anything
1:05:53 AM me: bigger ones
1:06:01 AM s: I’m at the coolest / weirdest dive bar I’ve ever been to
1:06:07 AM m: i’m having a wretched night, and need to make sure someone else on this planet has felt as stupid as i do now. lol
1:06:49 AM s: I have a couple that haunt me decades later. But overall I’ve had a pretty easy sheltered life so it’s nothin too bad
1:07:06 AM me: Funny how those things work…