Status: What do you think?
The Last of Lucy Grey
The End
I’m terrible with beginnings.
Sometimes I start a conversation realizing only half way through that I have no idea what’s being said. Especially when I’m saying something important. I just can’t come up with the proper words to articulate feelings that I’ve never actually been able to explain, not even to myself. I have a vague understanding with myself and of myself, and that’s the best I can hope for – anyone can hope for.
But I’ve always had a way of conveying my deep undecipherable emotions on paper. I can never define them or understand them completely, but I am only human. And humans are feeble, complicated, susceptible, complex, and hateful creatures. Not only that, but they’re prone to making mistakes and avoiding the consequences. We’re guilt-ridden, attention-seeking, and pain laden – yet – there’s hope, or so I like to believe.
No, there is definitely hope, if I’ve learned anything yet it is that there is hope. Our similarities to each other both bring us together and tear us apart. Sadness, fear, guilt, depression, and anger all imperceptibly tie each and every being on this earth to the other as well as put them worlds apart. Loneliness isn’t spared on anyone, and I’ve come to understand this, sitting cross-legged on a bar stool, scribbling away what’s left of my sanity into oblivion, the lone cup once filled with coffee sitting on the kitchen island that I can’t seem to remember having made – let alone drank – beginning to gather dust, the bright white light streaming in from the enormous window covering the furthest wall of our apartment. It was a cloudy day.
Looking back I can’t actually remember what had driven me to write that letter. I can’t even remember what I wrote, though I know if I could see you reading it now my cheeks would tinge with an embarrassing shade of pink and you’d laugh that laugh of yours, the one that always echoed through our apartment when we were alone and filled all the spaces where no words of comfort could be spoken. It was as if in that moment, as you imperceptibly tilted your head back, your mouth open and your lips curved into the widest smile I’d ever seen and your green eyes squinted as they shone with a happiness that made my own mouth part in awe, it was as if in that moment every empty space we’d ever tried to fill with words or actions that I’ve now realized were just as hollow as the spaces themselves, disappeared.
I do remember, though, that I had been upset with you when I wrote it – I think it had something to do with the fact I was jealous you were spending more time with Zoe since you had accepted that job just north of the city, the one that made you late for dinner almost every night. I guess it always wound me up that that time I lost with you had been spent with her.
It was petty really, but nonetheless, I’m getting sidetracked, and I know you’re not the most patient man out there, you’re twenty-two going on fourteen. Then again, I’m actually not quite sure if you’re twenty-two anymore, in fact I can’t and won’t ever be certain of anything again, at least, not about you, or I guess anyone else…
And I’m sorry if it’s taken you a while to read this, or if everything I’m saying isn’t actually making any sense and you would have preferred a succinct goodbye in which I told you just how much I loved you, and just how deeply in love I had been – maybe still am – with you. In fact, maybe I could have even told you that every day I fell more in love, like a hopeless child falls more in love with life itself everyday. I’m overcomplicating, maybe even overreaching, but I know you understand what I’m saying - or at least I hope you do – what I was saying however long ago it’s been now. But again, the point isn’t that I loved you with everything I had and with everything I wished I had, you know that even if you don’t want to accept it, even if you’d rather deny I ever cared about you because it makes it easier. Makes it easier to just hate me and wallow in the bitter taste I undoubtedly left in that beautiful mouth of yours. Or maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve already found a girl and moved on with your life. Maybe I’m wasting my breath with this outrageously long speech that I hardly feel like writing. But it needs to be said anyways, whether or not this letter gathers dust just like my last cup of coffee did, I need you to know.
I need you to know.
So, here goes nothing – or is it everything?
This is my letter to you.
This is my goodbye, even though I know you will always deserve a better one than I was able to give you.
This is the last of me – the end of me.
This is the end of us.
Sometimes I start a conversation realizing only half way through that I have no idea what’s being said. Especially when I’m saying something important. I just can’t come up with the proper words to articulate feelings that I’ve never actually been able to explain, not even to myself. I have a vague understanding with myself and of myself, and that’s the best I can hope for – anyone can hope for.
But I’ve always had a way of conveying my deep undecipherable emotions on paper. I can never define them or understand them completely, but I am only human. And humans are feeble, complicated, susceptible, complex, and hateful creatures. Not only that, but they’re prone to making mistakes and avoiding the consequences. We’re guilt-ridden, attention-seeking, and pain laden – yet – there’s hope, or so I like to believe.
No, there is definitely hope, if I’ve learned anything yet it is that there is hope. Our similarities to each other both bring us together and tear us apart. Sadness, fear, guilt, depression, and anger all imperceptibly tie each and every being on this earth to the other as well as put them worlds apart. Loneliness isn’t spared on anyone, and I’ve come to understand this, sitting cross-legged on a bar stool, scribbling away what’s left of my sanity into oblivion, the lone cup once filled with coffee sitting on the kitchen island that I can’t seem to remember having made – let alone drank – beginning to gather dust, the bright white light streaming in from the enormous window covering the furthest wall of our apartment. It was a cloudy day.
Looking back I can’t actually remember what had driven me to write that letter. I can’t even remember what I wrote, though I know if I could see you reading it now my cheeks would tinge with an embarrassing shade of pink and you’d laugh that laugh of yours, the one that always echoed through our apartment when we were alone and filled all the spaces where no words of comfort could be spoken. It was as if in that moment, as you imperceptibly tilted your head back, your mouth open and your lips curved into the widest smile I’d ever seen and your green eyes squinted as they shone with a happiness that made my own mouth part in awe, it was as if in that moment every empty space we’d ever tried to fill with words or actions that I’ve now realized were just as hollow as the spaces themselves, disappeared.
I do remember, though, that I had been upset with you when I wrote it – I think it had something to do with the fact I was jealous you were spending more time with Zoe since you had accepted that job just north of the city, the one that made you late for dinner almost every night. I guess it always wound me up that that time I lost with you had been spent with her.
It was petty really, but nonetheless, I’m getting sidetracked, and I know you’re not the most patient man out there, you’re twenty-two going on fourteen. Then again, I’m actually not quite sure if you’re twenty-two anymore, in fact I can’t and won’t ever be certain of anything again, at least, not about you, or I guess anyone else…
And I’m sorry if it’s taken you a while to read this, or if everything I’m saying isn’t actually making any sense and you would have preferred a succinct goodbye in which I told you just how much I loved you, and just how deeply in love I had been – maybe still am – with you. In fact, maybe I could have even told you that every day I fell more in love, like a hopeless child falls more in love with life itself everyday. I’m overcomplicating, maybe even overreaching, but I know you understand what I’m saying - or at least I hope you do – what I was saying however long ago it’s been now. But again, the point isn’t that I loved you with everything I had and with everything I wished I had, you know that even if you don’t want to accept it, even if you’d rather deny I ever cared about you because it makes it easier. Makes it easier to just hate me and wallow in the bitter taste I undoubtedly left in that beautiful mouth of yours. Or maybe I’m giving myself too much credit, and you’ve already found a girl and moved on with your life. Maybe I’m wasting my breath with this outrageously long speech that I hardly feel like writing. But it needs to be said anyways, whether or not this letter gathers dust just like my last cup of coffee did, I need you to know.
I need you to know.
So, here goes nothing – or is it everything?
This is my letter to you.
This is my goodbye, even though I know you will always deserve a better one than I was able to give you.
This is the last of me – the end of me.
This is the end of us.
♠ ♠ ♠
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