Tag: emotional

Nothing & Everything.

Even if we lived in the ghetto, it would be all good. You’re my suit of armor, I’d survive in the hood.

Even if flowers were nonexistent in our yard, you’re my dozen roses and a greeting card.

Even if our car sat on two flats, you’re my range rover – leather, and all black.

Even if we used candles most of the time to supply our light, you’re my chandelier keeping the ceiling bright.

Even if our paychecks went to zero right after bills, you’re my two story house, paid off, somewhere in the hills.

Even if police sirens could be heard every night, you’re my comfortable silence every day including tonight.

Even if our walls were bare with no color, you’re my original Michelangelo with hues brighter than the summer.

Even if our cupboards were bare, you’re my stocked pantry – ain’t no room in there.

Even if vacations were never a possibility, you’re my white sandy beach providing serenity.

Thank you for everything that you do, because even if I had nothing, I’d still have everything, and that’s you.

–S.

Undeniable.

You already love yourself. You just forgot that you do.

You’re the only person who shows up for you daily.

You put yourself to sleep. You bathe yourself. You face the cold world daily. You rise in the morning despite your exhaustion. You feed yourself. You hydrate yourself. You pick yourself up off the ground when you’re crying. You wipe your own tears. You walk through the pain. But now, fall IN love with yourself.

We can’t change any of what happened.

It’s all done.

We can only change today.

But that’s okay – it’s all part of our story.

I know you’re tired, but I need you to hold on just a little while longer. We’re almost there. Stretch out your hands. I can almost feel it with my fingertips.

Happiness. Here. Now.

It’s right there over the horizon.

We’ve traveled so long to get here. We’re almost there. We’re on our way.

I wanted to introduce you to someone, or rather reintroduce you to someone you met a long time ago,

You.

I know you tried to deny YOU, but you are UNDENIABLE.

–S.

Heavy Heart.

Excerpt from a letter that now almost seems like it was written in a past life.

I’ll miss your stories. I’ll miss fighting with you.

I’ll miss your deep voice. I’ll miss knowing you.

I’ll miss hearing your smile through the phone. I’ll miss you calling me on your lunch break.

I’ll miss falling asleep to your text messages. I’ll miss waking up to your text messages.

I will miss everything so fucking much.

God, it’s really over.

My heart is so heavy.

It is so so tired.

–S.

You are the Sun.

You are the sun creeping up and over the city early every morning.

You are staying up too late during summer break.

You are laughter when I didn’t know it was possible.

You are the warmth deep in my belly reminding me how lucky we are and have been.

When I was younger – I didn’t understand how important it was to be around you – to be present for all of your big moments in life.

Thank you for all of the lessons I have received in return for those I have taught you.

You are the breeze during every spring, the heat in every summer, the wind in the fall, and the cold air coming out of our lungs every winter.

You are everywhere.

You brought life into our family.

A promise saying that each day no matter how hard or long ends in at least a laugh or two.

I didn’t really know what it was like to REALLY love a person until I met you.

–S.

Nothing Mattered.

I want you to know that the nights we spent with outfits too short for our own good, dried up alcohol on our bodies from random strangers stumbling around the bar, sweaty hair, and cigarette smelling clothes are nights that I will never forget.

On those nights – we owned the town.

Two girls holding hands walking barefoot with their heels in their hands starting up at the skyscrapers of the city.

The whole city was lit up with neon signs, the moon, and the stars.

Nothing mattered on those nights.

Not whose heart was broken.

Not what college paper was waiting to be written.

Not what family or friend drama was developing.

Not that there was a work shift coming in the morning.

–S.

Beginning Again.

An excerpt from a letter that I wrote years ago to my then best-friend who went into the Air Force.

I asked your mom for your address a week ago, and then nothing. Because a part of me doesn’t know what to say to you. I don’t want to say anything. Another part of me wants to tell you everything that has happened since I turned twenty-three. I want to be your friend.

For a really long time now, probably ever since you left, I’ve been angry with you. I think we’ve done a shit job of keeping our friendship alive. I know that I’ve been a shitty friend, holding on by a thread.

I’m a hard person to love. You’re a hard person to love too.

But I also know that you’re currently doing one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your life.

I know that you’re scared. I know that you are lonely. I know that you are determined, and that you have that mean mug on. That someone forces you to be a morning person every single day. I know that you miss downloading music. I know that you want to watch One Tree Hill. I know these things. I know that you would never admit them. I know that for even five minutes, it probably feels good to hear from an old friend.

I told my cousin that I didn’t feel very close to you, and that I didn’t know the words to say. She said to just talk. About life. To be a friend – because we all need a friend. We all just want to talk and know that someone cares. Even us, those people who have spent a lifetime shutting everyone out. Because no one measures up, right? Wrong.

It turns out that we are not supposed to measure up to anything. We are just supposed to be human.

–S.

Life after You.

2014.

For a while there, I didn’t listen to any music that had the piano in it.

And that’s my favorite kind of music.

I would imagine your long fingers hitting the keys and all of the people that were there to witness your song.

All of the girls probably swooning over your musical abilities.

I hated them, you know. I hated you.

But as I am writing this – a piano is serenading me.

And you no longer have that hold.

See,

you don’t get to take music.

You don’t get to take real love away from me.

You don’t get pianos and the sounds they make.

You don’t get any hate.

Even though it never feels like it, I know that there is life after heartbreak.

Music still plays.

And the sound of letting go is the most beautiful note I’ve ever heard.

–S.