A Few Things
Previous - this entry written on July 19, 2006 at 8:49 am - Next
...does this mean it's my turn to make with the snarky-comment-and-disappear-again bit? Or are you still behind by one? Either way, meh. You'll read this, I know... and do you know how much that still amazes me? It's always surprised me, the odd little things you've done that matter so much, whether in good ways or bad.
...so. Boating. You have no idea that I'm even thinking about you right now, do you? Not that it'll particularly make any difference. Yes, I know that sounds all emo-whiny. I'd say 'bite me' but... yeah. I hope your trip is a pleasant one, as always.
...I'll be moving back to Portland at the end of the month; I'll once more be only a couple hours away, and this time I'll have a reliable form of transportation if necessary. I... would really like to talk. In person. Weird as this sounds, I could use the stability.
...I think you would be even more frightened if you knew how close I was to taking you up on that offer. I may not need those particular supplies but I damned well want them, and I remember just how well you can provide them. Funny, remembering someone you've never met.
...is it stupid to still love you? If so, then I guess I'm stupid. Ten years, and I still love you. Is it any wonder it hurts so much when the ones who remind me most of you fall so painfully short? They make me believe, for a while, that it'll all be ok. One of these days I'll stop believing entirely, really I will. One of these days I'll forget you, too.
...what frustrates me most is that I don't actually believe you. Some small, doubting part of me wants to call around, to check, to see if what you've told me is true. I won't. After what you gave, however unintentionally, I owe you that much trust at least. I can't resist reaching out... touching, tasting, seeing if you can feel me still. If you do, you're not saying much about it, but then you're a bit distracted right now, and I understand.
...margerie's wingspans are feathers and coke cans... I remember the first time you ran a blade over my skin. I knew then that I wanted to give myself to you. I miss you, y'know. Or maybe you don't know. But yeah, I do miss you, a lot. More than I really should, some days. At least I've got company in my misery; I'm not the only one who wandered off but sometimes wishes she could wander back.
...I write these entries fairly often; every time, I think it'll be the last time, that I've said all there is to say, that I'll move on. I never do. I've never grown past these moments, never gotten to a point where I don't have things left to say to the ones who matter. I've got a lot left to say to you, too... but I have the feeling you aren't still around to hear it. You'd be disappointed in me if you were, I guess. I'm sorry I wasn't what you wanted. I'm sorry I could never quite dye my hair blue... or even black.
There's more I could say. More I could write. More people I miss, more things I remember, more thoughts running through my head that make my breath catch and my heart beat faster and make me wish, for that moment, that things were different.
In the long run... meh. This, like all other things, will pass.
I am here. Even if the rest of the world is asleep, or at work, or distracted, or busy, or unaware, or... no longer here... I am. And I'll still be here tomorrow. Life goes on.
I know, I said I was going to stop updating. How often have I said that? I doubt it'll ever really be true. Hell, I ususally post again within a few hours of such grandiose declarations. It's the unannounced silences that should be worrying, I guess, since I don't seem able to make any "I'm leaving" sorts of things stick.
...and yes, that still includes you, brat.
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