Tag: emotion

Savior Complex.

If you have a reason to need me,

then you might never let me go.

If there’s some kind of guarantee,

then there might be something you owe.

If I could help you fix something,

it might help the love to grow.

If I’m necessary or useful,

maybe it won’t all be just for show.

–S.

It feels like.

Sometimes it feels like all the goodness in the world couldn’t eradicate the darkness inside of me.

Sometimes it feels like all the lenses in the world couldn’t help me see.

Sometimes it feels like all the meditation in the world wouldn’t let me be.

Sometimes it feels like there is no free.

–S.

Gift Exchange.

Life is a gift.

I know, I know, I know.

I can’t help it,

I’ve been feeling so low.

I feel ungrateful,

and like all of the progress has been so slow.

I’ve been staring out the car window,

willing myself to grow.

What if this is it?

What if there is nothing else for me to show?

–S.

Don’t let go of my hand.

Hang on.

Don’t let go.

I need a little time.

I’ve been going a little slow.

Don’t leave me by my lonesome.

It’s summer, but I’m feeling frozen.

I don’t know how to handle any of these emotions.

–S.

I’m Sorry, S.

An overdue apology to myself.

S,

If I was only able to tell you one very last thing, I would simply tell you that I am sorry and I know that you would understand why. I’ve been so very wrong. I’ve spent my entire life putting you last in hopes of making others happy, and where did it get me? It got me here. I was going to write several different letters to various people, several different truths, but I just want to write to you. I want to put you first because I always put you last. From the very bottom of my heart and from the deepest part of my soul, I am so fucking sorry. I can only hope that you can forgive me and that I can repair all of the damaged pieces. I hope you still trust me with your heart and I promise to never fail you again. For twenty-seven years, I overlooked you, I deemed you as less than, someone unlovable, I let you disappear and fade into the background. What can I say, except I’m sorry for every minute that I let you believe that?

I think of the bump on your nose, your blackheads, your hairy face, your stomach rolls, your stretch marks, your bumps, your lumps, your curves, your scars, your acne, the red marks on your face, your chubby hands, your big wide feet, the dark spots between your legs where you chafed because your thighs rub together, your saggy breasts, your flat ass, all of the things that I tore apart in the mirror to make you believe you were less than. All of these things come together to make a breathtaking human being. They come together to make you.

I think of the times you walked, talked, laughed, and sang. I think of how you healed a broken wrist, cuts, wounds, and bruises. I think of how you take care of me – how you bathe me, you feed me, you put me to sleep. I think of how you see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the world. I think of how you make sure I breathe. I think of how you make sure blood and oxygen travel throughout my entire body. How you fight disease and infection. How you fire all of my neurons. How you power all of my organs. How your entire life basically revolves around protecting me. How you continued to love me when I tried to convince you that you were unlovable.

I think of the broken hearts you lived through from friends and lovers alike. How you love to make others laugh, how you love to inspire them to be their best selves. How you love hard. How you love true and honest despite the love given to you. How you never folded when others did. How you provide friendship unparalleled in others. I think of your kindness. Your intelligence. Your strength. Your work ethic. How protective you are about what you love. How you bounced back from failure. How you never tried to be too prideful about your successes.

You blow me away.

You always show up for me. Always. Even when I don’t show up for you. You’re my greatest friend, my first real love, my soul mate and the love of my life. The one person in this whole world, this whole universe, who really does know all of my secrets and the happenings in my head and still has the ability to love me despite everything I’ve ever done and said.

I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but I love you. I’m in love with you all that you are.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I would say it for every second of your life that you couldn’t feel it if it would change something up this point, but there are no take backs in this life. All you can do is try again, hope for the best, and do better in the future.

So, I promise to love you every day moving forward. I will show up for you. I will not fail you. My love will not waver. My love is stronger than all of the forces in this life that choose to fight against it. Nothing will vanquish it, not even death. Because wherever we go after this life, I will love you there too. I will love you after this lifetime, and the next. And the next. And the next. I will love you.

–S.

I don’t understand any of it.

Another letter written to my dead grandmother from years ago.

Grandma,

Love is a strange thing. Love in connection with death is even stranger. It’s when you no longer inhabit the earth that the regret hits. All of the phone calls you should have made. The time you should’ve spent. The memories you should’ve made.

I have to believe that in some way this will reach you. That in some way, shape, or form – it still can.

Some days it scares me that the memory of your laugh and your voice is fading. It scares me that people immediately get caught up in the politics of it all. Where did the mourning go?

People prepare you for heartbreak. And sex. And to cook. To clean. To love. To remember to feed the dog. To take responsibility for your actions. To say sorry.

They don’t prepare you for death.

And maybe that’s why we all act so differently. For some, it’s the pain that comes with waking up every morning. For some, it’s their smile and how it will never be fully genuine again, never reach their eyes. For some, it’s burying any real emotion, six feet.

For others, it happens at random moments. The wind against their face. Blades of grass brushing against legs. The sun burning the skin. Rain hitting the window. Or it hits every few months. Or years. The darkness finds its way into your bedroom. It sleeps with you. It eats with you. It bathes with you. It breaths with you.

I won’t tell you what it is for me. Just know that life is what it always was. And then some days – I remember. And life becomes something entirely different.

I don’t understand many things. They crash into me and knock me over. And I don’t understand them.

Love is a strange thing.

Death is even stranger.

Mourning is the strangest of them all.

I’m still loving on you girl. I know that you’re still holding it down – wherever it is that you are.

–S.