Friday, June 18, 2010


They sat there in complete silence. Their worlds had always been too much to overcome, and neither knew what it was to get over that. They fought to keep everything as tranquil as they could, but not out of any reason of love, but out of comfort more than anything else. He had told her everything, at least everything he had to tell; there was no reason in his mind to keep anything from her, but still it felt like there were things she was holding back, things that she could never explain to him… He wasn’t going to push, he may push for a lot of things, but he knew well enough that this is one of those areas you just let go.

“I don’t know what to do with this… this information, I don’t know what to do with you.”
She says looking at her feet.
He turns to her, “I’m sorry, well I am but I’m not. I am sorry that you feel whatever amount of pain you do, but I’m not sorry it happened, not because I want it to happen again, but I am glad it happened. It was sweet, it was innocent… in that moment I felt wanted by someone, and I haven’t felt that in a long time. I haven’t heard you mention anything of the like, I haven’t seen you really feel anything but complacency with me, and though that’s a fair feeling, that’s all it is… fair.”
“So, what? Is this you saying you want it to be over, is this you being done?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well it doesn’t seem like you’re saying anything else. If you’re tired, and if you feel like you’re not getting the most basic requirements out of this relationship, than why wouldn’t it be over? Why wouldn’t you say that?”
“Look, I love you… I long for you… I tell you how much I want to be with you on a daily basis, and I understand, that, that’s something I do, not necessarily something that you d, so I can let the majority of that go… I guess I just want to be reminded every now and then, that you want to be here too, that you feel the same way I do.”
“It’s not that I don’t. I do love you, and I do feel very much the same, but I don’t know how to do that for you.”
“It’s as easy as a compliment… you know over the course of these last few years, I’ve probably received as many compliments as years we’ve been together.”
“I’m not that kind of person, you know that.”
“You’re not the kind of person to give a fucking compliment? What kind of person is unable to give a goddamn compliment? What kind of person doesn’t know how to respond and react to someone’s love and desire for them.”
“A selfish one?”
“Your words, not mine.”
“Yes, well…”
“Well what?”
“Well… I don’t know. I don’t know how much I do trust you, or how much that even matters. I don’t know how deep my feelings go, or if that’s even a pertinent question. I’ve heard things, I’ve seen things, all about you, and none of them flattering. I don’t know where you’ve been or who you’ve been with, but I have a fair idea, I have a good understanding, and if that’s what you want to be doing you can go fuck off.”

He stood there, stunned. It would appear as if he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but in reality he was insulted by the thought. He had just confessed to her, something simple, something sweet, something so seraphic, it would’ve just slipped through the cracks of memory to be forgotten and stored for a rainy day. How could she really feel like he was holding out? There was a point where he wasn’t completely honest with her; there was no denying this, but that time in their lives had gone by, long ago—their childish games had been short-lived in that first phase of their failing romance. The accusations left a bad taste in his mouth, and he didn’t know whether to accept this as a byproduct of what he’s done, or rather fight the words.

“You know you mentioned once that you feel like you can’t TALK to me… Well you can talk, but you want to be able to “talk” to me in the same way that I “talk” to you. I know this is a conversation we’ve had before, how with “you-know-who” I was given the great opportunity to sharpen those skills… Well I worked on them yes, but it’s because they were always there, and it’s nothing more than certainty in actions. Why is it that you can’t say the same things to me? There’s that lack of certainty, there’s that fear of being wrong and having it all go away… Well that fear’s in everyone, not just you; but you still have to have some certainty in what you’re doing. I’ve said many a things I’m not proud about, yes I could’ve put them in a more elegant fashion, I could’ve sugarcoated the words, and I have…but that never works, you never seem to get it.”

She looks away, not knowing how she would react if she continued to watch him.

“I can’t blame anyone for my actions but myself, and I don’t try to, if anything I may help to correlate how they came to be what they are but that’s not justification, just insight… I’m sorry if you’ve never understood that, but that’s what’s there, that’s what I’ve always tried to relate. You can question me, you can question my actions, you can question what we’ve been doing, but I’m not the same person. Those aren’t the things I feel like I need to question, and I’m sorry you don’t get that… Fuck I hate saying, “sorry,” we say that more often than anything else… We say that more than anything else… that truly is a sad sentiment.”

He looks at her, she’s fighting to keep the tears from coming out. He didn’t want it to be over, that wasn’t his intent, he just wanted to be honest with her, it just didn’t matter anymore. They were trying to breathe life back into something that was unceasingly only causing abiding pain. Someday she may be equipped to handle a relationship like this, but today wasn’t that day… neither were the hundreds before it. The silence that fell between them was enough of a response, neither was fighting, neither had the strength anymore, they had just been talking in circles since they met, likely the reason the situation never seemed to have gone pass any real point. He takes a breath, and seeing that she still has nothing to say…

“Oh dysfunction, how sweet you fucking taste sometimes. I suppose this has been a sick form of entertainment; it’s given me something to do, something to look forward to. This relationship has been a pet-project that has only yielded the same results, as learned people we should be wise enough to change the experiment…Change the variables, if you will… I will not be there for you…not anymore… I will not be on the other end of the phone, I will not be a response away, I can’t be. You can’t want me for just you, and expect me not to want a little of you in return. I’m tired of being humiliated, I’m tired of having to walk around with that familiar tail between my legs. I will not fear what’s next, when you’re not there. I will not run from what I’ve done, I accepted it and I’ve always been honest with you. I will not hide the feelings that run through me, nor deny the power they have over me. If silence is the only following act with us, I will endure it, and there may be that nominal amount of pain there to begin with, but sweetheart don’t think it isn’t something I can’t handle… don’t think that it’ll be torturous and painful you’ve been emotionally mute since day one."

Thursday, June 17, 2010


The years have passed, the slate’s been wiped, the sand has slipped slowly through the hour glass, and now sits peacefully in a mound of its own creation. We’ll never have that opportunity to go back; we’ll never have the opportunity to do anything aside from reflect. To find peace is to take solace in knowing actions are permanent and feelings are temporal.

I’ll be accountable for what I do, to hide is a sense of fear, is something I cannot respect. So I accept the consequences of my actions, I’ll be fine in the twilight not needing to fight off the demons that don’t exisist. Think of me what you will, I would relinquish that control, but it’s not mine to give up. Say what you want but that won’t unmask truth just do enough to blindly fill that void. I’m not here for you; I don’t have to answer to you, just myself and the almighty end. The little things I’ll hide, my emotions will show you the truth. Leave me, love me, lose me, it’s the system we know, it’s the game we play, but when it’s over what does the score even mean… Yeah I can appreciate the humor in this coming from me, but it isn’t much different from what I’ve always said, maybe just more eloquent in its guise.

Can I fight to keep sane, should I fight? Or should I embrace the calamity with open arms and find some calming grace in the chaos we all wrap ourselves in. Would I rather an existence where everything was unceasingly serene, or am I plagued to search out the dysfunction, for the sheer excitement it brings? Would I rather be bored and at peace; or would I rather deal with the blue ruin as it comes? I’m a child of great fortune. I’m a soldier in my own great war. I’m a victim to no one that I didn’t give power to first. I’ve forged an existence of perpetual bliss and consistent turmoil, and I bask in the greatness they make as the two entwine. Though I have escaped the forked tongue, I am still a victim to its daftness; I’m no longer in that state or denial or recovery. I’ve done what I’ve done, and I’ve acknowledged it, I’ve accepted it… but I haven’t learned to move on. Still I hope for more, but at least that hope doesn’t spring forth from places I’ve been, people I’ve known, people I’ve wronged, people who’ve wronged me—now it comes from the hereafter.

Control is nothing more than a thought we create in order to feel at ease with the uncertainty. We believe we have control, we believe we are guaranteed some right to dictate where we go and what we do, it’s only until we get there that we understand those serendipitous turns. I have no control over me, why would I begin to imagine I have control over you, or the situation at hand. Acceptance of peace or acknowledgement of defeat; we’re all in a lose, lose battle…we can learn from the outcome or we can keep fighting and never let any of the good reckon with the people we strive to be.

I looked into her eyes as she confesses truth, looking for some sense of remorse and absolution from my presence. Our child was lost, our children would never be, though at once they may have, this is a fact that we’ll have to deal with in our own way. Do I honor them by bringing their mother down? Do I disgrace them for never being able to say hello, and only giving them a wistful goodbye? I live and they do not, but at most I can live for them, and in that they could have some life through me. I’ll never forget them, but I can never forgive her. I didn’t carry you, so I didn’t know that immediate loss, I didn’t know what it was like to be connected, but that isn’t to say I didn’t know you, that I didn’t look forward to you in my arms. I’ll carry you always, with a warm thought and a longing smile. I will make you proud. I will make myself into the man I was supposed to be, into the man I fight to be.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Survival of the Fittest

They had been traveling for two straight days now, tensions were rising, and reason wasn’t even something that could be registered. Two hours at best from their destination, they stopped, pulling over in some lost part of Missouri’s backwoods. She had been sitting in the passenger seat all day, waiting for him to get tired so she could take over. Walking out of the gas station he looks over into the car, she was smiling in that obviously guilty way; she had taken control of the driver seat, not to anger him, but seeing an opportunity she ceased it. He crawls into the car, his anger began to grow...he had one goal in mind, and that was it, she could drive after that, but until then he was set on doing this, why? Well… well there wasn’t any real rhyme or reason; it was just something that he needed to do.

She begins to pull out of the parking lot, and quickly they begin to argue.

“I was going to drive us until we got to the city!”
“I know but I’ve just been sitting in the passenger seat for the last 14 hours, and well, I’m fucking sick and tired of it…”
“Well I figured you could drive when we got there, we could get something to eat, and then you can keep driving for as long as you want.”
“It’s almost 10 at night, how late did you think we were going to keep driving?!?”
“Well you’re the one that put me on a goddamn schedule… If it’s 10 I’ll be surprised if anything’s open much longer.”

She pulls off the highway, not telling him that she realized how late it was, and that they probably should find somewhere to eat. She begins to drive aimlessly down a street, hoping that it’s going to take them to some noticeable center of commerce, otherwise she knows full well she couldn’t be accountable for her actions alone with him in the middle of nowhere. After a few minutes she begins to realize that she would be on this road for days without seeing anything worthwhile, so she begins to pull off onto a side road to turn around. His frustrations with her inability to navigate even the simplest things, begins to mount overwhelmingly.

“I can’t stand this… You never listen to me! You just fucking do, whatever makes you happy, and what? I’m suppose to sit here and take it as if what I think, how I feel, it doesn’t mean shit to you?”
“Well you know where the door is, you can leave anytime you want…”
“Are you kidding me? Did you really just threaten me?”
“No I just pointed out the obvious.”
“I can’t stand you right now, I need… Fuck I don’t know what I need, but I know I need at least one goddamn moment to collect my thoughts… get some air or something.”
“If you open that door… If you get out of this car… I will leave.”
“Do whatever the fuck you want, I just know if I stay in this car for another goddamn second, it won’t help either of us, just give me a fucking minute.”
“You get out, you can have all the time in the world, but if you think I won’t leave, that’s your own stupidity, not mine.”

He opens the door… In his mind simple fresh air is all he needs to collect his thoughts, to get back to good. Though they were both being irrational, neither could see the idiocy of their actions or what they were saying to one another. As he closes the door behind himself, she throws the car into reverse and pulls away. She left him there, abandoned on the side of the road, his wallet in the car, his bag in the car, two miles from the closest gas station, and all he had on him was a dying cell phone. Days had certainly been better.

Werewolf Heart

I’ve lost faith. The world I’ve known is slowly starting to crumble into an obscure caricature of what it once was. The days bleed into one another, a byproduct of the nights stealing away any chance to sleep, any chance to let the fear go in the form of some lingering nightmare. I’ve constructed a vehicle for my own demise…not of the physical, but rather of the person I’ve become; everything must be torn down in order to start again.

At a glance it may seem that the backs have been turned, but their hands never seemed to be outstretched to begin with—I think the better explanation may be found in my willingness to accept the situation and instead of brushing away the stinging pain of disappointment and realization, I find the best response is uninterrupted abandonment. The heart would long for salvation, but there is nothing to save, it has all been a forged situation made for its comfort, made for its convenience, as it’s no longer comfortable and convenient, there’s no reason to toss out a lifesaver, but rather let what’s been floundering just drown in into its own darkened abyss.

We are all imperfect, the flaws we hold, though they come together in a divine sense of chaotic bliss, they are the aspects of ourselves which will inevitably tie us permanently, or forever drive those nails into the proverbial coffin. For a time we can fool ourselves and believe this to be a concept that can be fought, that can be denied its grasp over us, but it is much stronger, it is more assured in its actions—it’s unbiased and unwavering, and in that it is beautiful, and terrifying to no extent.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Greatest

Boarding the flight I could only think of the fear that had been slowly creeping into my spirit…what was I doing, is this for the best, or is this just to hold off the flooding waters if only for awhile. No longer can I let my life be controlled by my inability to find what I want; no longer can I be a victim to a world that only pushes for destruction and humiliation. The time came for me to move on, and though it has been one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to made, I’ve made it, and hopefully it’ll put me back on that track I got off of so long ago.

I know I’m not the best person, but that doesn’t make me the worst. I’m trying to learn the proper actions and steps needed to survive just like everyone else, and damn him if he thinks that it’s only a selfish act—I know I would understand if the situation was reversed…at least I hope I would. I’ve been torn down, and humiliated, I’ve been made into something I never wanted to be, and though I never had the strength I always desired, this is a way for me to reclaim what I’ve lost, I shall stand strong, I shall not waver, I shall hold steady like pillars made of stone, and as the wind threatens to blow me down, I will meet it straight on and let it pass through me to the great beyond. Once I dreamt about becoming the great model of my spirit, and though that was taken from me, I gave it up freely. It’s a hard fact to accept, and it’s even harder to say, but now that I know where to rebuild from, and it's a starting point, something which is more than most have.

I know I’ll leave and everything will change, but it’s not that it hasn’t already, so what is it that I’m really leaving behind? Nothing more than the pain and constant alienating circumstances that have done enough to bruise my soul. I may disappear, then again I may never come back, but if there is time for my return, I will be someone different, someone stronger, I will be the greater representation of all that I could be.

Wet and Rustling

They had met in the fall some years back. He had begun to fall deeper into pits of his own despair; once he had been kind, caring, funny, cordial… now only pain, anger and remorse, were left. She was just beginning her journey trying to figure out who she was, who she wanted to become—both of their lives had led them to this same point, to this mutual junction.

She would watch him as he slept, it seemed to be the only time she saw any sense of serenity within him, anything that didn’t appear to be some sense of internal torment. Despite not being given an opening to a happier state of existence, she knew there was something more to him, it only needed to be pulled out.

Though he didn’t intend to have such a forlorn disposition on a constant basis, he was so far into his despair he could no longer recognize the difference, his pessimism had claimed a dominant role over him, and he was no longer in control, subservient to the wants and desires of everything which plagued him he couldn’t even see a light anymore. As the days would go by he would grow a little more hopeful, seeing the beauty gleaming from her eyes, hearing the joy in her laughter, there would be a rebirth of hope, if only little by little—hopefully by the point it began to morph into something more permanent it wouldn’t be too late for them.

She could see that there was something deeper in him, that there was much more there than just a broken spirit, and it’s for these reasons she decided to bite her cheek and hopefully stick around long enough to catch a glimpse at his true potential. Unfortunately it’s hard to take risk with a pessimist…

Years would go by, and things did inevitably change. The irony of the situation would be found in their complete role reversals. She had done an amazing job bringing light back to his spirit, but she no longer could feel such hope as she once did. It was now he trying to fight to hold on, it was now him trying to prove everyone wrong. They were damned from the start; he was a fool to think that it would change in the end.

50 MPH

They were in foreign territory. Their lives seemed to never correspond with one another, and for once it felt like everything was falling into place, it felt like this may actually work and things may turn out for the better. In the car they sat, traveling to wish a close friend happy birthday in an area that seemed like barren wasteland, there was nothing out there, miles and miles of fields. The lights from the city were a far off luminescence that grew dimmer with each mile marker.

He had always had more of an adventurous side, she was much more reserved, but at the very least open to him getting his fun in, she was never one to hold him back, then again she was never one to push either…there was an unusual atmosphere between them. It had taken a long time for them to grow comfortable with one another, they were no longer in that period, where they were constantly trying to impress each other, they could finally let themselves be open and free to whatever it is that was coming next.

He looked back to see one of his best friends in the seat behind him, quietly staring out to the stars that were slowly starting to become more and more visible as the sky became darker; he looked over at her, she was staring off into the distance. It was as if all three were in there own special worlds, unfortunately he couldn’t find comfort in his thoughts, a problem that seemed to always plague him.

Going over 50 mph, on a dark abandoned road he set the cruise control. Slowly he began to open his door, and climbed out of the car. They hardly even noticed him, there wasn’t any difference as far as they were concerned. A few seconds go by, and the friend in the back turns to the front and says, “I think the turn’s coming up here in a bit…” slowly he notices that there isn’t a driver in the front seat anymore. “Uhm, where the fuck did he go… AND WHO THE HELL IS DRIVING?!?” The two remaining passages now fully broken out of their thoughts and trances, they look out the window and see their friend… their lover riding the car from the outside, as if he was parasailing through the nights winds. He pokes his head into the window and smiles. This is who he was, and though they should be scared of the myriad of possibilities that could end with their premature demised, they still held on to some sense of comfort, he was always in control, no matter how extreme the situation was. He would always keep them safe, no matter how foolish he appeared to be acting.


His days consisted of pushing all the memories out of his head. It was a difficult feat, but it needed to be done—he had grown too tired of basking in the good times, it only perpetuated the pain that would never be relived, at the very least not with her. There had been an inconsistency in their relationship, the only thing that really remained a standard; their communication skills were shit at best, and neither felt as if they were ever heard.

All he wanted was for her to return an ounce of the same affection he couldn’t go a day without showing her…all she seemed to want was for him to be ok with the situation they lived and operated in. She understood that there were things that were wrong, that there were things that needed to be worked on, just as he did, but it didn’t matter anymore, the effort that was put in was more than she ever wanted to put in, and it didn’t seem like he ever wanted to change at all.

There was never a question of how they felt for one another, there was love, there was care, but there was no passion—it’s not as if it died out, it never seem to be there to begin with. He was worn down, and too tired of fighting to hold on, it seemed as if she didn’t know how to fight even if she had wanted to. This was the perfect mixture to watch the whole thing go up in smoke, one would leave wondering if that was the best thing for themselves…for each other. The other would leave knowing that everything that could be invested had been, and then some. There could only be solace placed in the fact that at the very least neither would be naive enough to put themselves through that hell again. If ever there was a time to change, if ever there was a time to grow it was quickly approaching, and it was now up to them to find it for themselves.

Talk Show Host

He laid there in her bed, nightmares danced across his open eyelids in the darkened room—she asleep, as much as she could be. Who was he to her? Though he was always timid to be cavalier with his emotions, with letting her know how he felt, it didn’t seem to be a problem to her. Love was a word that signified anything more than like, and she had liked many a guy before him.

He would listen to how she would describe her past “loves,” and always he would wonder, how was he described when they weren’t together? What would she say about him to her old friends, to her random ex’s? Could she even convey a fraction of what he would when describing her? Or was he exactly like the rest, would he be stored away in a “special place” within her heart, with the rest of them?

His notion of love was unwavering and eternal; everything else was infatuation on a perpetual cycle. He knew he loved her, and that relied on what she would tell him, how much she supposedly loved him in return, but how could she never show it if it really was love?

They had settled into a routine of monotony routed in tired monogamy. He wanted only her, and no one else, but she didn’t seem to want him… this isn’t to imply that she wanted someone else, on the contrary, it didn’t seem like she wanted anyone at all, at least not specifically; instead she seemed to search out the comfort of another so as not to be alone. This was a cruel and unfair joke to him; to hide yourself away from solitude and search for comfort in the arms of another was a cop-out, and though he could understand the fear, it wasn’t anything he could see himself giving into so easily.

These nightmares were more surreal and menacing than anything else he had ever encountered. How was he to respond? What was he to do show her that there was something better than searching for simple comfort? There would never be enough he could show her, mainly because he didn’t seem to be the one slated to open her eyes, only to keep her attention for the passing moment.


The pain was overpowering, every moment of every day was a chore to get through, each breath brought with it a stinging pain of realization—she was gone, and likely never to return. His life was falling to shambles, and there was little he could do to find comfort and quiet his thoughts. Little by little he slipped deeper and deeper into a proverbial lake of fire, the only acknowledgement of his existence came from this undeniable pain, aside from this he was dead to the world, he was dead to himself, and he was dead to her. Slowly the light was beginning to leave from his eyes, the joy and excitement that kept him apart from all the rest was slipping further and further from its host; his only ability to cling on to some sense of reality was to find whatever outlet that was strong enough to let him feel—feel anything, if even for just the moment.

In these moments of synthetic heartbeats he was able to see some small sense of hope and salvation, soon enough the time would pass, and he too could crawl out from the rock he now found himself under. Until then each day was a new war, the only sign of victory could be found in repeating the process upon the next sunrise, until then it was anyone’s guess whether or not he was going to make it. He knew she was going through similar heartbreak, but it made no difference to him, his pain was much more poignant than hers ever could be… at least this is how he rationalized it. It was something different to him—he wanted to fight through the wall which stopped them, he didn’t want to give up, he understood the grandeur of their relationship, and though she said she did as well, her actions would never suggest as such.

Little by little he did enough to subdue the anguish that seemed to plague his existence. Comforted by the times he made it through before, he knew that the pain was only temporary, but each time, his walls closed in, and his ground gave beneath him, all he had to look forward to was falling deeper and deeper into his own remorse.

White Blank Page

There was nothing that he could do to rectify the situation, all was lost, and there was no sense in trying to salvage what little hope may be left. She was too weak to confront him, she always had been, and he was too cold to let his heart and anger warm over. There was never a time with her that he had ever thought to be anywhere else, but to his amazement the same wasn’t true for her. She had grown tired over the same battles, the same arguments, the same outcome, but what was there for her to really complain about? He loved her with all his heart, he made sure that she knew this, that she knew how beautiful he thought she was, how kind, and sweet, but never could she give him the same reassurance. After three years he may have received a single compliment in each of them.

The pain had become something standard to him, in his solitude he found an odd sense of stability in being ignored and denied the love he sought for. He had fostered an environment of self-depreciation, which was merely perpetuated by her refusal to change. Her selfishness would sink her, and though he may have warned her against this, there was nothing she would ever do to change this simple fact.

It’s a simple remedy, at least to show that there has been some effort put forth, at least to show that there was some care taken to acknowledge the other’s wishes, but whether it was too difficult to keep up, or she really didn’t care too much, any effort was as temporary as the fleeting wind. It was nothing for him to lay next to her and give her everything, to tell her everything, he wanted her heart and affection, all she wanted was his attention.

I Never Wanted You

Take out the cork, a bottle of wine, it’ll go straight to the mind.

There’s an interesting point at the end of a relationship in which you’re forced to reevaluate where you actually fall… are you stuck in that symbolic purgatory? Torn between pining for the love lost, or rather do you begin to realize the ridiculousness of the situation and the true feelings begin to pour out?

I was head over heels for her, I would’ve done anything for you, and though I know this isn’t a sentiment that will ever be overlooked, how often was it taken into consideration? I feel as if it was something that was known there would’ve been a slew of action to preserve and fix that which was wrong… then again I am the hapless idealist, and though this is a shift from where you first found me, the point is that throughout this ordeal I was there for everything, no matter what separated us, albeit it time or distance, I was there regardless. I’ve called for your attention, I’ve called for your affection, but consistently I’ve been denied, with little rationalization to support your inaction.

I never wanted you to know how great we could be—I wanted to keep this secret to myself, and hopefully let you in on it, as we went further along, whatever it is we were always doing. I’ll never regret what we’ve done, nor will I ever forget it, however I do find myself at a point wallowing in remorse for how weak it always ends. Never has there been enough respect for me, nor for us to handle our affairs face to face, instead we’ve relied on indirect communication to accomplish our round about trials. Had I ever brought this mess to your door I would have the decency enough to do in person; I suppose it’s just one more thing that has always separated us.

Light Houses

They never technically had spent a night together… sure they had passed out on a couch next to each other, but never had she laid to rest next to him. He didn’t know how to feel, the only person he really ever slept with had taken so much from him, he was hesitant to put himself out there again—she didn’t necessarily have the same conundrum, but there was something different in him that she saw, there was an instant peace, an instant comfort she was able to find in his arms. Was it simply infatuation? Lust? Or could it really be the beginnings of love actualized? They didn’t have much to talk about, what was there to talk about anyway? Against everyone’s advice she was there anyway, and much to his surprise she didn’t listen to anyone else.
The snow fell steadily through the night—she had drifted to sleep hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the same. Sitting up, with her wrapped around him he didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t an unattractive guy, but she was still out of his league…his thoughts wandered, thinking about what she may see in him, how he felt about her, how any of this made sense. She would rollover from time to time, just slightly, showing her face, there was always the cutest smile on it. That smile did enough to rest his mind to give him some small kernel of hope that this wasn’t some divine joke.

He didn’t want to be cavalier in his emotions, but he knew that what he was feeling for her was something so much more than infatuation. It was pure, it was innocent, it was curious in its nature, and though he knew that physically there was something bringing them together, the emotions that would keep them there were destined to be so much stronger… this thought sent a chill through his body—not knowing how to interpret this reaction, he just drifted off to sleep.

Feel the Tide

It had been months of constant battling, of internal war. His life had been teetering on that edge, having two choices; his intent had been on the lesser, whether desired or just unavoidable, that’s inevitably where he was heading. She had seen something different, something kind, and good.

He sat at the edge of the bed, the morning’s light coming through the blinds; she asleep, with the faint hint of a smile strewn across her face. Everything before the last night, seemed like a distant memory, another life, it was so foreign, but at the same time it was something that was very much a possible reality. Was he still in his induced haze, or was there something actually different happening deep within. Whatever it was, her being there was something that was undeniably tied to the new change in spirit.

He looked over to the door, paint drying on the wall next to it from the night before—the message that will always be a reminder… though on the wall, it’s only a reflection to that which is now permanently engrained within. “The kind you is without the light.” This is who he had become, this is who she knew him to be now, and though it pained him, it was completely true. He didn’t want to be that person, not for her, and especially not for himself.

He looked back her. The sun starting to dance across her eyelids, sparkling through her glorious curls, the smile still there; he knew that this was something more than some delusional thoughts of hope, there were genuine possibilities. He realized that holding on to that which he knows, that which is real he could trust in being alright, and that the tide was turning.

Anna Lee

It was to be his time of recovery, his time to move on and move passed it all, to grow strong, to wise up and realize the faults present in his current state of thought—but how could he fault himself for his actions? It’s hard to break bad habits with a sentimental heart, and she amongst all of his vices was the strongest and most dangerous aspect of his life. So many times before she had only wanted to say goodbye and let go, but he gave her such a fight, and so many reasons to stay, none of which were really her reasons, he was just convincing enough.

In her eyes he could see through to her heart, and in that heart he could see salvation for her, he could see the vast potential that stemmed further beyond her comprehension, a fact that she had blinded herself too, through years of relentless self-torment. Better than most he had known that sometimes people just need a hand, they just need a kind caring heart to pull them through to the other side, and for her, he was more than willing to be that person, but unfortunately she neither wanted nor could she recognize the state she was in. Content on the path that she was on, she wasn’t going to change for anyone let alone him. A fact he would do well to acknowledge and accept.

He would spend his days trying to fight off the urge to call her, to apologize for… well for anything, and everything, as long as it brought her back to him. Remembering the pain she caused not only to him, but to herself he was able to convince himself otherwise every time, avoiding what would inevitably be yet another mistake… at least for the moment.