The Thing Is...

The thing is, if you asked me if I love you, I'd probably lie.  I'd grit my teeth and look away and force out a "no" and try to change the subject.

The thing is, even if I said yes it wouldn't matter.  There would still be too much swimming in the ocean in between us that we could never overcome.

The thing is, the way you hold my hand makes me dizzy with hope.  The way you put your hand in my hair and rest your head on my shoulder gives me goosebumps.

The thing is, I try to forget the way you say my name and I can't.  The way you hug me and the things you say stick in my head and replay on a loop that makes me miss you until I can't breathe.

The thing is, I know that it will never work.  But that doesn't stop me from wanting it and from wanting you and from hoping you might want me too even though I know you won't.

Icarus

Every one talks about the fall of Icarus as though he was always in the sky and then one day he flew too high and fell. 
But what I like to see is his escape. 
Yes he was reckless, no he didn't listen, but would you?
Imagine spending your life trapped in a maze and finally breaking free. 
Would you honesty say that your first thought would be caution?
Mine would be freedom.
I like the hope of Icarus, the fact that he reveled in the freedom and he flew to the sun and dove toward the sea. 
I imagine Icarus free, shouting with joy and flying higher than he should because he was stuck for so long and doing lazy loops in the sky.
I like the joy that freedom must have brought him before he fell. 
Maybe because I have spent my life in a maze and I am finally making my own wings. 
Maybe because after being trapped, the exhilaration of flight is intoxicating and I'm ready to fly. 
So you mourn Icarus in the fall but I salute him in the flight. 
One day, I'll have wings of my own and I'll be free and I pray you'll salute me in my escape, even if I fall.

Know

Take me to book stores and let me get lost in the words.  Let me fall back through time into different worlds and countries and places I long to call home. 
Hold my hand when I laugh and hold me tight when I cry and keep your hand on me somehow, someway all of the other days. 
Listen to my stories, because they're endless and they're crazy and they're a part of me, intrinsically. 
Tell me about your day and your life and your feelings because I want to know you better than I know myself. 
Watch movies we've seen a dozen times with me because I love the characters and the action and the story and all of it together makes me feel alive. 
Drive fast with the windows down and let me blare my old songs on your radio and sing at the top of my lungs and put my head on your shoulder while you show my your songs too. 
Dance with me in the kitchen at 2 am and in the afternoon and to the music in commercials and anytime we want just because we feel like it. 
Know that when I feel too much, which happens often, it'll spill over and tears will wet my cheeks but it's not your job to prevent that.  Let it happen and don't be afraid of it, just stay beside me as I dry them up. 
Know that late at night, the mood and the night sky are crushingly heavy and sometimes I might need you to tell me you love me even though I should know that already. 
Know that my heart will be all yours, all in, from the moment you reach out your hand and that it's been shattered a dozen times before. 
Know that when I tell you I love you, it's not out of habit or convenience, but because I mean it down to my toes and you are my world and I need to say the words out loud to make sure you know the truth

How to Let Go

How do you let go of the people who shaped you? 
How do you let go of the things that carved you into the person you are? 
How do you let go of things without closure? 
I like things to end with a nice little bow and a card.  More times than not, it ends in a fight and a finale that says something like "we're better off without each other" or "I don't want to be your friend."  And then sometimes, there is nothing.  There is unspun ribbon and and jagged edges that run on forever and tangle around my feet and trip me up.  Sometimes, I cannot find the definite end, rather I find a moment where the world started to fade to a different color and no reason why. 
How do I let go of that? 
How do I walk away from something if I don't even know what went wrong? 
How am I expected to fix myself and change my behavior and become a better person when I am drowning in a sea of people too scared to call me out on my mistakes? 
How am I supposed to apologize to them for what I've done and ask for their forgiveness? 
I'm not brave but I am not a silent sufferer either.  When someone hurts me, I turn over my arm and show them the wound and often times, it is too much.  Often times, I am bleeding out calling out their name in accusation and they are running away, calling accusations of their own unspecified hurt over their shoulders.  I try to be gentle and forgiving but sometimes, the cuts are too deep and too close together not to call out.  But it is too much for people.  I am too much. 
And sometimes, they leave without a word and what am I supposed to do then? 
When he invites me to something special and then leaves me alone and then slips back in silently?
When they play petty games and block me out and then slip in with a trivial conversation? 
How do I let go without pushing too hard? 
Or is it okay to shove the people who broke me away when they try to walk back in like nothing happened?

Addicted to People

There are lots of things to get addicted to in this world.
I leave most of them alone, but people...you can't leave people alone forever.

And you can get addicted to them.  I do.
They get under my skin and in my heart and in my head.
I see the color of their eyes and hear the sound of their voice and see the way they smile.

People are a tragic thing to be addicted to- a dangerous thing to crave.

Because even after I cut them out, I go through withdrawal and I want them no matter how much it might hurt me.

They used to wind me up and watch me spin out so -snip- they're gone like a loose string on a cardigan.
And then I crave the late nights, I miss the laughter, I want the bad decisions.

He put his hooks in me and didn't care how much it hurt or how much the blood pooled as I tore them out.
And then I crave his voice, I miss the feelings, I want him.

They left me, on my birthday alone at the top of the ferris wheel so I slipped away silently and no one noticed.
And then I crave the society, I miss the crowd, I want the past back.

He looks like all my past bad decisions with softer corners and dull edges and all of him screams danger.
And then I crave his attention, I miss the danger, I want the regret.

I crave people the way others crave cigarettes or whiskey or oblivion.

Even the people who hurt me come back to haunt my dreams and part of me, that broken sick part, wants them back no matter what the cost.

I'm so addicted to people that when I pull away from them, it makes my hands shake and it makes me cry and it makes me sick.
It tore my life open, that addiction, and it's not the same as drugs or alcohol, but it ruined me anyway.
I'm recovering, learning how to pull away, learning how to live without, learning how to choose healthy instead of danger.

But on mornings when the fog hangs low and my dreams are thicker than syrup and my head is full of wishes and wants, the need is hard to shake. 
So I settle for imagination and for pretending things turned out different and for stories on paper where I can satiate the cravings without really hurting myself.

Contradictions

I am all feeling and he is all thought. 

I am the pastel colors that bleed together and fade at the edges.  He is the dark, straight lines that show the picture.  Together, we could make something beautiful, and the thought is terrifying and I think I want it. 

I am all heart and he is all head and together, maybe we could finally have both. 

I am the emotions that slam down the gas pedal and he is the logic that presses the break and steers the car.  Together, we could go anywhere-be anything. 

You would be hard pressed to find two people who are more different than the two of us. 

I am exploding laughter and violent sobbing and more words than you could count spilling from my lips.  He is quiet thoughtfulness and steady plans and gentle joking.  And I am afraid to be too much for him.  But his heart is bigger than anyone I know, maybe even mine, and I think sometimes there might be room for me in there too. 

I am conspiracy theories and belief in wild things and he his fact and truth and together, we could be unstoppable. 

I am the branches of a tree, swaying in the wind and growing ever outward.  He is all roots and depth and strength.  Together, we could live forever. 

And as different as we are, the similarities scare me more.  The faith we share.  Love for family, adoration of friends.  The lack of spontaneous impulse and the finality in all of our decisions. 

I have spent my life chasing whims because permanence is a scary word and when I look at him, I see forever.  He is the jovial youth and the steady life and the white picket fence and the rocking chair on the porch.  He is love and constant reassurance and I need it all and it scares me half to death. 

I've spent my whole life running, floating on the wind like a wish and somehow I ran straight into him and he's everything I ever dreamed of and the truth of it, the reality of how good he is for me, makes my hands shake and my words come out twisted. 

He is all angles and facts and straight lines and I am vines and feelings and colors and I am shaking in my boots thinking I might have found forever.