Thursday, January 14, 2010

I never said I was a writer (the censored version)

The overwhelming feelings that have no where to go but the back of your neck and only for a second do they explode out your eyes, but only for a second because that is all you seem able to muster these days. Watching the colored fountain lights from seven stories up as they change from purple to blue to orange to rainbow and back again. Your head is running lists of the things you want to do versus the things you need to do. The feelings you tell yourself you don't have versus the ones you try not to have, as if they are different. Pausing for a moment to wonder how many color combinations the fountain has and what time they turn off the lights. Its now 11:49pm so maybe in 11 minutes, maybe not. And you don't know where it comes from when it gets this bad and you don't know what to do with it. Does it store up, do you feel it coming on slowly and just ignore it? You have no clue, it just hits you all of a sudden and you act surprised every time. Thinking about all the decisions that get made for you, maybe you let them, maybe the idea of letting things happen how they will just makes you a coward for not stepping up. For a while it is easy to just go along with it all, it makes the most sense. Then there are the nights with the missing and all the things you shouldn't say but you know you will because you can't just stand by and watch it go unnoticed and forgotten. Purple and Teal, Green and Pink, you wonder if the people driving past at 12:02am even notice how beautiful this is, how lucky they are to be here. All the tiny things that make it all worth it for you, that make your heart hurt. The things only for you, and for him to notice you noticing. And all that noticing that seems worth all the missing and the holding back. But really what is really worth anything? The colors, the fonts, the seconds of songs that make your heart pound out of your chest. The memories that make your eyes water. The touch on your face, the looks into your eyes and you know you could die right there and know that feeling evoked, that moment right there-was it. The most pure, real feeling you have ever felt. The only time you really, truly believed. Then like it was never, its gone. An awkward phone call, a broken glass, a trip miles away, too much thinking and the overwhelming feeling that some days life is just too much for you to take. And you want so badly to be strong enough, to believe this is how it should be, but sometimes wanting something is not enough to succeed at the things we want. The lists run through your mind of all the things you want to do and the feeling that you are not smart enough, motivated enough, outgoing enough-enough, to do any of it. The putting yourself down is not going to help and the validity in it, who knows, but tonight, alone, seven stories up, fountain lights boasting the beauty that you wish you could touch, you wish. You wish that you "could dream" but all you are is scared that you are not enough for the things people expect of you, you are never going to be enough to change his mind, and one day it is just going to get too hard. And tonight a phone call makes the lists stop, but you know you need to learn to do that on your own. You need to rebuild the foundations on stable ground this time, for all the right reasons, and the real feelings. But first you need to figure out how to deconstruct to rebuild. You need to stop thinking his eyes are telling the truth and start listening to his words.


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