Tag: raw

Dreaming.

I dreamed that we could always be that close.

That I would always be the one that your heart desired, that it loved.

That we played together, that we laughed.

That when one of us was down, the other was always around to bring them up.

I dreamed of giving my virginity to you.

of you being the one for me, forever.

Just one. The first and the last.

I dreamed of you as the perfect husband and devoted father.

Affectionate.

I dreamed that our chemistry never faded.

That it always burned as brightly as it ever did.

I dreamed your laugh forever.

I dreamed your smile.

I dreamed your love.

I dreamed your touch.

I dreamed your weight on top of me.

–S.

I will miss my friend.

I was disappointed to find out that nothing had changed.

That within me there still lived this thing, something that always wanted to please you.

I hate that and that is the truth.

I can’t be your friend. I actually don’t want to be.

I would be –  in an ideal universe where my head could un-think what it thought about you and erase all of the memories.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my heart could un-feel what it felt for you.

I would be – in an ideal universe where my soul didn’t feel like it was supposed to be connected to yours forever.

That is what I will miss the most – my friend.

For most, well all situations, I usually say that I wouldn’t change anything about the way the events played out because of the experience and the lessons that I learned along with it.

But, I would undo this one.

I want you to know that I would undo it all to ensure that we could always be friends.

As with most things, my mind added fresh paint over the pictures of us, the memories of us, the fantasies of us, the daydreams of us.

My daydreams and fantasies creating the perfect encounters.

However, they never actually existed.

At least not in the way that I painted them to be.

In another life, maybe.

In this life, never.

–S.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Storyteller.

All I really know is that we were on the phone and he told me that he wanted to tell me a story.

I was happy because I knew in that moment that he could have chosen to be on the phone with anyone, but he chose me.

And there I am listening to a story about a man with only one thumb.

But he is laughing and I am not.

He says, ‘I guess you just had to be there.’

It’s not that. I am not laughing because a big part of me is sad. I’m sad because I am thinking and preparing for a moment a million moments from now – when he doesn’t tell me these stories.

–S.

Black Boots.

2014.

I’m driving home.

It’s 2:32 in the morning.

It’s chilly in Texas now.

More late at night than during any other time of the day.

I wonder what the weather is like where you are. I turn the radio on, and I hear Justin Timberlake taking back the night.

I wonder what you’re listening to nowadays. Are you playing your piano?

I turn the radio off. I don’t want to take back this night. It’s beautiful. I want to burn it into my memory forever. It’s truly been special and I haven’t done anything special in quite some time. When I am wearing my faux leather black boots, I feel like I can do anything. I wore them tonight. If we still spoke, you’d know about them. I would have sent you a picture. I was dressed in all black with touches of gold jewelry. I felt sexy and mysterious all wrapped into one with a ribbon on it.

I laughed a lot tonight. Real laughter. I meant all of it.

And there was this moment when I was driving home, and the air was blowing aggressively against my face, that I missed you.

I really really missed you.

I wondered if you were at work maybe thinking of me too.

I wanted you to wrap your words around me and bring me warmth the rest of the car ride home.

I wanted you to lay me down on my pillow and sing me to sleep.

Your deep low timbre.

I would do anything to hear your smile – even over the telephone.

I don’t even need to see it, it would be enough.

Just to know that it was my smile. For me. Because of me.

If it’s cold where you are, I wish you warmth.

I wish you the sun.

–S.

I remember those faux leather black boots. I wore them into another love story. They were my favorite boots to dance in downtown. Eventually – one of them started coming apart and I would use black tape to keep it together. I was wearing them in dimly lit bars and clubs, but also didn’t give a fuck if anyone noticed the tape.

I loved those black boots. I LIVED in those black boots.

RIP Faux Leather Black Boots.