The problem with being a writer is sometimes you run across people who aren’t. When you depend on words, quotes, lyrics, some form of communication to get you from worse to better, it’s extremely hard to navigate a relationship with somebody who doesn’t live that way. And I know that individuality makes the world a brighter place, and we have to let everybody live their own life the way that works for them — even when we might not understand. I get all of that (fa sho). So what I don’t get is why every time I encounter this problem I freak out. I am so hell bent (thank you mother) on helping everybody up when they’re down, I forget that some people just need to sit where they are for a while. They don’t want to know that things will get better. Or, maybe, they know things will they just aren’t better yet & they’ve come to accept that. They don’t really care that we would give all of our time & extra effort to stitch them back together because they’re dependent & can therefore thread & stitch up their own seams.
The issue is, when I can’t help you, your problem becomes my problem. And that is a problem.
When I can’t get the words from my head & my heart into your frame of mind, I basically self destruct. Engage: human combustion. I drive myself crazy writing these novel-like messages then erase them knowing after “Send” they’re bound to fall on deaf ears. And I’m not mad at you for it. That would just be foolish. I’m a brat, but I’m not that much of an A-hole. I understand what you need. (I mean, you’ve spelled it out pretty effectively) I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to give that to you. It’s hard for me to give things I can’t actually give. Space. Time. Silence. I have to consciously remind myself that you don’t function like I do. I have to come to this personal space and say all of the things I wish I could say to you so that I can feel better.
If you were ready. If you would just listen, there are so many things I would say to you. I would tell you that you deserve good things, and that I desperately want to be one of them. I would tell you that you’re crazy to listen to that song because it’s too much of a dark cloud for the sunny person you are. I would tell you that I don’t believe you when you say you don’t enjoy talking to me because I’ve seen your face. I would tell you that it’s a serious struggle not to pick up my phone and ask you about your day. every damn day. That in the extremely short time I’ve known you, you’ve become important to me. I would tell you that I think you’re handsome. And that I think it’s sexy that you’re smart. I would ask you what you think about before you fall asleep at night, and at what moments are you most happy. I would ask you what your favorite memory is, and who you tell all of your secrets to. I would ask you to take me downtown. & I would thank you for making me believe in something again. Fate, coincidence, lust, passion. I don’t know what it is exactly, but because of you I believe in something. I would tell you that you make me nervous & I would pace around my house or twirl my hair in knots talking to you because something about you makes it impossible for me to sit still. I would probably be telling you these things for the 2nd or 3rd time because I’m not very good at keeping my thoughts in my head despite my best efforts. I would constantly remind you of the way we departed because it made me feel giddy. I’m giddy now just writing about it. I would tell you how incredible I think it is that you manage to pull yourself out of bed every morning after everything you’ve been through (and I would ask you what those things are). I would tell you that I’m convinced I won’t see you this summer, and that bums me out. I would tell you about every lyric that spells out my feelings for you more eloquently than all of this nonsense does. I would tell you all of the little things I remember about you that most people probably haven’t noticed; the statements you make, the way you walk. I would ask you if you wanted to watch my favorite movie with me because it’s girly, and if you say yes that means you do like me. I would tell you that I have had writers block for a while, and just busted out over 1,000 words because of you. And how grateful I am for that. There are so many things I would say to you. If you were closer. If you were ready. I would probably startle you; but I might actually surprise you. if you could just listen.
But you don’t want to listen. You don’t want to hear all of these things because they’re real. And they’re raw. And they’re heavy. And right now you’ve got a big enough load you’re shouldering. And I don’t blame you for that. Re-reading this I’m a little hesitant to even put it out into the universe because if you happen to find yourself bored out of your mind, you might find your way here & then the cats really out of the bag. Nobody else knows who “you” is, but you do. And I love that. I love that we’re nothing, but it feels this way.
& I know you don’t want any apologies because you told me so yourself. And maybe that was a smart thing to say because I don’t really have any sort of fault in the way you’re feeling. But maybe that’s when you know you care about somebody; when you’re sorry they’re upset, or off, or unsure, or struggling in some way – even when you had nothing to do with it. & especially when you can’t do anything to help.
So if you are there, I hope you know I mean all of these things. In the most non-awkward, non-clingy way posible. And that I am sorry. For the timing, for the situation, for the words. I’m really sorry.
and that’ll have to be enough for now.