08.Nov.2002
boys + raven = no
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I think it's strange you never knew
I woke up this morning at 6:15 and watched a cerulean dawn break to cyan against my curtain sheers. From the second level of this house it is simple to envelope yourself in the illusion distance is weakening.
Giz called at one in the morning, stoned out of his mind, wrapping his drug-addled brain around his romantic situation. Trying desperately to avoid the Great Burn in which he suffered months and months ago, I heard him endeavor to not draw direct parallels to his current girlfriend. But she comes with the same baggage, to which he beholds the ability to beautifully overlook.
"When I hold her," he began, "there is nothing more I want in this world, that this now, is all there is."
I said, "I really have no idea what that feels like."
In my past, the creeping realization while encapsulated in the flesh of current boyfriends that This Is Not Enough always overcame me. This is not the person I want to be with, this is not the person who calms the noise in my head, this is not the person who supports my manic insanity, this is not the person who simplifies me.
I asked, "Where is she now?"
"She's outside talking to David," he muttered.
"Oooooh ... " I said.
"Yeah, I know."
The indescribable pull of the ex-boyfriends, of which we feel obligated to placate due to some constant void, is stifling. When I was still living with Joe, I always thought I owed him something because he took me in and gave me shelter, food, clothes. When I finally made the decision to leave him, there was so much rage in the both of us that it cancelled out all my emotions. To pacify him, I blatantly lied and said, "I will come back." So much to the point that I almost began to believe it.
I didn't issue the same to Jay, I just bluntly reiterated my wishes for solitude, beating it into his skull, but he evidently always knew what was best for me, talking me out of my decision until I suffered a full-on panic attack and called the cops on him, unbeknownst to the rest of the world.
One night, Dustin called while Jay was collecting the remainder of his belongings from my house, and we were having another one of the "talks" that never, no matter how trying, seemed to fucking end. Jay kept trying to make his presence apparent while I was speaking to Dustin, and Dustin began questioning the presence next to me. I hesitated. When Dustin discovered it was Jay, he murmured, "I am very disappointed in you."
Out of sheer frustration, I bellowed, "What, you can do better for me?" You the Stellar Male who makes a direct effort to blow me off and fill the end of my telephone with excuses, and when I imposingly call you on your actions, you recoil into denial and spout more excuses from your malleable lips?
On the fourth of July, I remember a passionate moment in my bedroom in which Dustin's fingers unscrambled the inside of me, where a cyan dusk broke to cerulean against my curtain sheers, and in the distance fire-works illuminated an incandescently quiet evening.
"Kiss me," he demanded, while the effervescent launch and explosion of color raped a naive stillness. Directly following this event, he was tense, nervous, and I couldn't break him from the discomfort for I was the discomfort. Despite myself, months later, I watched him sleep.
There was no simplification involved.
At night, my ceiling fan motor assaults an already brain-assaulted silence. I won't answer my telephone when the others call for me. Some have more privileges. Giz managed to break the fold last night. We are blood, and suffer some type of codependence on one another even though miles separate us.
"When I hold her," he begins, "there is nothing more I want in this world, that this now, is all there is."
"Despite your fears?" I questioned.
"Yes," he said perfectly.
I have no idea what that feels like.
--
time & machine