A Retelling of Events That Never Happened.
The Beginning Was Much Different than the Way it is Now.
When I started going to Dreamworld, you took care of me. You held me, you kissed me. You fucked me while I cried because I thought if you did I could absorb some of your power, I could feel your words and all their meaning inside me, I could take you inside me to my bones and carry you with me always.
For awhile, maybe a week or two, you cut me open. You wrote words on my skin in a razorblade. You imprinted yourself on me. Your eyes shined like marbles but there were no tears.
You loved me then. But not as a lover, as a part of yourself in another human body that you needed to care for. I guess we’ve always been twins.
You kissed my cuts, held me. You slept beside me on the couch. It was as real to me as my best friend’s voice on the phone. It wasn’t fantasy. It was my own twisted reality.
I still carry the imprint of that time inside me. And, yes, sometimes I wish I could go back.
_____________________________*
I am angry with you right now. I was angry at you for Keltie but I forgave quickly. Now I’m not sure what it will take for me to forgive you. I still love you, of course. Very much.
I blame you. You abandoned me (and him, too). The life I built in my head for us is destroyed. You fucked it all up. Without even a kiss in apology.
You left in the dead of night with a suitcase. You wouldn’t let him tell me and I found out like everyone else. Of course, in the real reality and not my twisted one, I am just like everyone else.
I was at work. I couldn’t stop crying. Three hours later I was going to move to Texas. Thanks for the consideration. We’re two halves of a broken wishbone and you got the wish.
_____________________________*
“Fuck you. I blame you.”
July 6th, 2009. Exactly two months shy of the two year anniversary of Andie leaving me. You destroyed me that day. I picked up the pieces with some help.
_____________________________*
I couldn’t write for nearly two months. The words wouldn’t come. I blame you. And while it wasn’t planned, in retrospect, it was quite fitting that I destroyed and hurt you in that story.
No regrets.
_____________________________*
Currently, you’re stalking me. A month ago you lived in the house across the street. After that I drove you to Conneticut for rehab. So many twisted realities. They’re all mine. It just depends on if I’m angry or worn-down from fighting.
“You wear me out.”
_____________________________*
am⋅i⋅ca⋅ble
[am-i-kuh-buh ]
–adjective
characterized by or showing goodwill; friendly; peaceable: an amicable settlement.
_____________________________*
I want to live a life from a new perspective.
_____________________________*
“Change.” “Defiance.” You’re trying way too hard, babe. If this is truly what you want, why do you feel the need to prove your worth? You’re about as defiant as a twelve-year-old ‘punk’ with her combat boots and Twilight book bag.
It’s almost amusing.
Grow up, you silly boy. Don’t try so hard. You’ll trip all over the words on the sidewalk.
Love you.
For awhile, maybe a week or two, you cut me open. You wrote words on my skin in a razorblade. You imprinted yourself on me. Your eyes shined like marbles but there were no tears.
You loved me then. But not as a lover, as a part of yourself in another human body that you needed to care for. I guess we’ve always been twins.
You kissed my cuts, held me. You slept beside me on the couch. It was as real to me as my best friend’s voice on the phone. It wasn’t fantasy. It was my own twisted reality.
I still carry the imprint of that time inside me. And, yes, sometimes I wish I could go back.
_____________________________*
I am angry with you right now. I was angry at you for Keltie but I forgave quickly. Now I’m not sure what it will take for me to forgive you. I still love you, of course. Very much.
I blame you. You abandoned me (and him, too). The life I built in my head for us is destroyed. You fucked it all up. Without even a kiss in apology.
You left in the dead of night with a suitcase. You wouldn’t let him tell me and I found out like everyone else. Of course, in the real reality and not my twisted one, I am just like everyone else.
I was at work. I couldn’t stop crying. Three hours later I was going to move to Texas. Thanks for the consideration. We’re two halves of a broken wishbone and you got the wish.
_____________________________*
“Fuck you. I blame you.”
July 6th, 2009. Exactly two months shy of the two year anniversary of Andie leaving me. You destroyed me that day. I picked up the pieces with some help.
_____________________________*
I couldn’t write for nearly two months. The words wouldn’t come. I blame you. And while it wasn’t planned, in retrospect, it was quite fitting that I destroyed and hurt you in that story.
No regrets.
_____________________________*
Currently, you’re stalking me. A month ago you lived in the house across the street. After that I drove you to Conneticut for rehab. So many twisted realities. They’re all mine. It just depends on if I’m angry or worn-down from fighting.
“You wear me out.”
_____________________________*
am⋅i⋅ca⋅ble
[am-i-kuh-buh ]
–adjective
characterized by or showing goodwill; friendly; peaceable: an amicable settlement.
_____________________________*
I want to live a life from a new perspective.
_____________________________*
“Change.” “Defiance.” You’re trying way too hard, babe. If this is truly what you want, why do you feel the need to prove your worth? You’re about as defiant as a twelve-year-old ‘punk’ with her combat boots and Twilight book bag.
It’s almost amusing.
Grow up, you silly boy. Don’t try so hard. You’ll trip all over the words on the sidewalk.
Love you.