My Tendencies Usually Get Stuck
"When you think happiness
I hope you think that little black dress
think of my head on your chest
and my old faded blue jeans"
I have all these photographs, I guess I keep them to remind myself. My memories are the most damaging.
some said that they never knew me. Some say they'll never know me. I say we never had the chance.
It shouldn't be this easy to acquiesce, but here I am, just simply giving in. I went back for the first time, the first time in such a long time, those windows, and how I used to be behind them.
We said that it wouldn't be as long as we thought.
The whole concept, it's not what you're getting or understanding, and I don't think that I'll ever be able to put it together in my vague and frustrating organization, but I do believe that you could walk away with something, something real and tangible, from what I've said.
I can withstand any meeting required, any confrontation, because I did, and I don't mean that I want to again, but I didn't see something that day that I had always thought you had.
I keep dreaming, as much as I hate the word, whimsically dreaming (dreamily dreaming?) and sometimes it turns into a bright nightmare.
Because I find most of my comfort in the dark.
Yes, black, smoky, dark.
Cliched, boring, and skeptical as I may be about it, I miss it.
I love listening to what you thought.
For a while, I could hear your tactics, I could see my own, and I could smell in the air what was to come next.
I don't want to anymore.
Caring is so overlooked. What an underestimated emotion. Because I see now that even after you were knocked down again and again, you still had the care to get up, to live, and care about living.
but I understand why the pictures you drew are taken down now.
There's only so much care a person can have.
And after that, I understand the exhaustion.
In a strange, unannounced way, it's a sad thing to see you and me fade off, off into the field, off into the park, off into the cigarette smoke, off into the theater, off into your room, off past mine, and down the road, and in those double doors, and in class where I met you.
Where it started.
I guess it's appropriate though, isn't it?
I hope you think that little black dress
think of my head on your chest
and my old faded blue jeans"
I have all these photographs, I guess I keep them to remind myself. My memories are the most damaging.
some said that they never knew me. Some say they'll never know me. I say we never had the chance.
It shouldn't be this easy to acquiesce, but here I am, just simply giving in. I went back for the first time, the first time in such a long time, those windows, and how I used to be behind them.
We said that it wouldn't be as long as we thought.
The whole concept, it's not what you're getting or understanding, and I don't think that I'll ever be able to put it together in my vague and frustrating organization, but I do believe that you could walk away with something, something real and tangible, from what I've said.
I can withstand any meeting required, any confrontation, because I did, and I don't mean that I want to again, but I didn't see something that day that I had always thought you had.
I keep dreaming, as much as I hate the word, whimsically dreaming (dreamily dreaming?) and sometimes it turns into a bright nightmare.
Because I find most of my comfort in the dark.
Yes, black, smoky, dark.
Cliched, boring, and skeptical as I may be about it, I miss it.
I love listening to what you thought.
For a while, I could hear your tactics, I could see my own, and I could smell in the air what was to come next.
I don't want to anymore.
Caring is so overlooked. What an underestimated emotion. Because I see now that even after you were knocked down again and again, you still had the care to get up, to live, and care about living.
but I understand why the pictures you drew are taken down now.
There's only so much care a person can have.
And after that, I understand the exhaustion.
In a strange, unannounced way, it's a sad thing to see you and me fade off, off into the field, off into the park, off into the cigarette smoke, off into the theater, off into your room, off past mine, and down the road, and in those double doors, and in class where I met you.
Where it started.
I guess it's appropriate though, isn't it?
posted by Sarah at 12:14 AM
1 Comments:
Sarah,
I am being counseled about something I didn't want to admit. I was a codependent with a wife that was emoitionally draining. Draining to the point of frustration, anger, emptiness. If I can offer this to you. You can not make someone happy. They have to do that themselves. Don't carry someone elses burden. it will drain you. When you step back, they will manipulate it out of you.
You are better than that, and you need to believe that.
God bless
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