Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Starting over, or just starting in?

I’m starting off on a new piece of paper so I can wipe clean the memories of yesterday, so I can forget the girl I was, and become the girl that I am, or maybe have always been. I’m never true in these pages, that aren’t even pages, just simply dots and dashes combined to create a much faster, but less true version of my thoughts. Where we end up is somewhere between reality and sadness, but somehow still a step above where we really are. It’s like the words are bleeding so fast that I’m losing my head before the contents have been spilled. It doesn’t even hurt sometimes. It doesn’t sting, or swell, require any stitches, but it sure as hell kills you inside. It kills those places that weren’t so black, dyes them the wrong shade because of misguided intentions and fast-paced decisions. This world is broken, and I have only words bleeding forth much faster than they ever should, the words spewing forth from my mouth tangling and snagging on the shards of a relationship that I’m, for the first time unsure of. How does life take you down such roads? Or is it I that am leading myself to tears?
I also wonder when such talent becomes a bad thing. I’m praised for my mind daily, never on the inside but showered with almost bitter compliments from all those around me. You’re so smart, you’re so reliable, you’re so… different from the rest of us. But am I? I’m the same stupid little girl that wanted happy endings, the same girl that waited 18 years for a man worthy enough to sweep her off her feet. But he’s dropping me, and I wonder if I won’t get carried off beneath the wheels of the carriage that by now should have already turned back into the pumpkin. My dreams are crushing me, or will.
It took me years to steer myself in one direction, and now that I’m a year and half down the path towards something I might really want, it’s killing everything that I thought I would have forever. My goal, to cure the world of it’s misguided intentions of saving itself through means that would never get them to the place they dreamed of. I want to end suicidal behavior, drinking binges, and victims allowing their own abuses. I want to end misguided lives, to cure people of their stupidities almost, but I can’t even see my own. I can’t get past my own, because the ability that enables me to read others, is the same one that keeps me blind from seeing it in myself. I hurt myself every single day. I kill myself inside each day a little more by never being honest, never speaking up, never acknowledging what is happening to me, around me, because of me. It’s always circles, it always was, and I’ll circle back to tell you that it’ll never change.
I am broken, and I do all that is in my power to keep myself that way. I lost a father so drastically that I’ll never recover. It was slow, heartbreaking, and destroyed every chance I had to have a normal relationship in the future. I will always hold on too tight, react too soon, and close up inside every thought that may damage it until I can hold it in no more. That release in the end is wonderful, it’s all out there, and real, like the girl I used to be, but at the same time it’s too much, too soon, too unchecked. I let my brain shutdown for 30 seconds and let it all out, and that’s just it. It’s not me, and it’s definitely not the girl that he fell in love with.
I am a disappointment through and through. I don’t know how to keep a relationship going to save my life, and I may never know. I probably won’t, because the minute that this one ends, as much as I dread the thought that it’s even possible, it will all be over for me. I will prove myself right. Because love doesn’t break the boundaries that so many people believe it does. Love cracks at despair, loss, and change. We can’t control love any easier than we can capture it. It’s alluring, and speaks false promises of a future we’ll never see. It hurts people, and leaves them empty. Maybe in the end we will see that love is what doomed us from the beginning. Love is the real enemy. Love is the war.
But I’ll keep fighting. We’ll all keep fighting. Until there comes a day when the promises stop being whispered, when the twinkles in the eye stop grabbing our attention, when the wits and brains of the boys cease stopping time to show us it may be worth the five seconds to call out his name. The battle will rage on, engulfing generations old and new. It will never end, because love promises to be never-ending. Always and Forever, a contradiction of time and place, of reality. But still my favorite lie.
May he never walk away, or give up on me. I’m still healing, as I see with my knowing eyes that he is too. We’re trying to heal, but the answer lies in letting the other heal it. You must face what makes those tears build, not what sets them finally free.
I don’t really believe in love anymore. When I was little I thought it would cure the world, but after growing out of my na├»ve self, I see that it is the virus. We let it spread until we can’t handle it anymore. Love can’t be all you are, and I think that’s the biggest problem I’m having. I need for love to be everything in my life, and I need for it to never go away. But that’s a silly childish dream that I need to overcome. I need to grow up, if only in that small sense.
So here’s to loving, in moderation. Here’s to living for me, instead of through him. Here’s to life not being so fucked up. And finally here’s to me, because maybe I deserve it.
Tip back the cup of misery, and take a swallow to set you free,
Jenny