5am heartaches.

It's selfish, but unsurprising- of course I'm taking it personally. 

You've always been honest, it's true. For someone with so few spoken words, you used them to the best of your abilities. 

It's not that you went unheard, or even misunderstood. It's difficult seeing it through your eyes- my heart and mind don't function in the same way. I promise I've tried though. 

So now what do I do? Cut and run? Feels a bit cowardly. Cutting off my nose, despite my face. Stay and...? What is it I'd be waiting for? You can't answer that now. Neither can I. I wonder if you even want to. 

I asked if there was a 9% chance- you laughed because you got the joke, but didn't actually answer.

I imagine we all want to believe we're worth fighting for- pushing through our own mental barriers and discomforts to meet someone where they are. I can tell you're worth it. I wonder if you know that.

 It's difficult to not have a go at myself- if I was more substantial-  smarter, prettier, thinner, more thoughtful, then maybe... 

So what's the next move? I keep hearing a monologue Charlotte Bronte wrote in Jane Eyre play in the back of my mind- it's a bit on the dramatic side, but what the hell- I'm feeling overwrought as it is-

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you'd forget me.”

You'd forget me.

Why do I feel connected to you in this way? My measures are not yours- for me it's been time, investment. Though you said I was important... I can't explain myself. I'm just going by how I feel. Surpassed logic awhile back.

I'm so tired. I don't want to chase, plead my case, convince anyone of anything. All I know is I feel like the cord is being stretched- I imagine it's up to me whether to cut it, or not. But not today.

tethers.

What if I put it all down? All the tethers.

What if it wasn't me who made the calls, or sent the texts?

I ponder this often.

It's so a part of my nature, to use my words to let others know I care. That I love them.

Bring us all together, so we know people are the most important thing.

I don't want to be the glue.

I want less responsibility.

But what if I treated the people the way I feel? Stopped responding. Left them on unread.

Maybe it's time. Take the onus off my shoulders. Be less. Expect less.



It's not a cry for attention. It's a deeply sunken exhaustion.

Maybe it will pass today, or tomorrow. I don't know.

I don't want to always pull the tethers.

disjointed.

If I don't write it down, it can't be real. Same if I don't tell anyone.

But sometimes I get scared.

I'm not the one people check up on. I'm not asked how I'm doing. To be fair to them, I avoid it by asking all the questions. By smiling.

It just comes out of no where.

This time I was driving in the car. I was awash with feelings I wasn't fully sure how to handle. Now my thoughts are completely disjointed.

The kind you feel like you can't tell anyone. The kind that hide in the corners, creep out when least expected.

I cried all the way home.

I'm noticing an up and down, up and down theme. Is it becoming an annual gut punch?

Now I'm alone.

For someone who often craves exactly that, I don't want to be. These are the moments I feel the most alone.

I can't call anyone, I just can't.


I sat here for a long time before I began to even type.

I don't have anything else to say.

pre-conditioning.

I catch myself thanking you for things I possibly shouldn't. Simple acts of kindness, gestures anyone who cares for another person should expect. This doesn't take away from when you take it further, and go beyond. Of course I'm thankful for those moments- far more so.

It's the basic ones that give me pause. It means I've allowed for less.

I have to own my part, I'm not a victim here. It started with a lack of self esteem, self worth. An allowance for less than I've ever deserved.

If I built them up, I'd somehow build up all I was missing in myself.

Now I'm healthier than I was before, and yet- I'm far too surprised by things you do. I'm not sure if I imagine you're taken aback looks at times, or if my mind reshapes the moments.

How many times did I let someone take advantage of what I have to give? How many times did I take far less than I deserved, thinking I should take what I could get?

I deserve the world, and to want to help enhance someone else's.

I have to take the time to remember that, time and time again.

Talk about a simple act of kindness for myself.

re-conditioning.

permission.

Break my heart. I'm giving you permission.

To say the things I fear, the things I hope... maybe even the things I dream.

I don't want to be frightened. I can't live with the idea I didn't take the leap, be open to the risk.


And even though I feel that pain in my chest- the one quickly followed by placing my hand there, to try and soothe what I'm feeling- I know I'm making the right choice.


The let go has happened- even as a type, and the tears stream freely, I just know. I know.


The cataclysmic shift wasn't when I realized I fell in love with you. I only just realized it's because I finally let go. Knowing you can hurt me, and I can hurt you. Knowing if this doesn't work, it isn't because I failed somehow. I've been true.

And so I love you freely.

Even as my breath catches, and I tremble, there's been release.


So go on ahead, break my heart. I'm giving you permission.

olive u.

"Don't say anything."

I just wanted it to sit there, at least for a little while. Selfishly, I needed the weight of my words to hang in the air- for me to hear myself say it. You respected that, only repeating my words back to me for clarity.

I got here without an external push. Without an expectation I should say it back, because someone else said it, rather than allowing for me to get there on my own. I got here my way.

I had an inkling, even a wondering I was feeling this way. Then new years happened, and it all shifted. It really was just that, a shift rather than a thunderclap, or whatever other literary way one would say it. You came into focus, like adjusting a camera lens. Once I felt that, I noticed more and more all of the little things I was appreciating about you- and the ones that drove me batty, but were just as much a part of you. Isn't it defined like that? Wanting all of someone, not just the pretty bits?

Going back to last night- what a jumble of emotion and thought once it was said- a sense of bravery, and terror. Relief and apprehension.

The decompression was real. I don't throw those words around lightly. I don't say them to just anyone, and the important people in my life know... when I say it, I mean it. It's not just a feeling in my stomach, a notion, or infatuation. A proper cry in the shower set me right afterward, as well as rinsed the days make-up off my face. Winning all around.

Now the lesson beaten into my head over and over rears its ugly head- I control nothing but my own actions from here. I can't take the words back, and I don't want to. I understand we react differently, may or may not feel my words are weighted. There very well may not be reciprocity. I finally understand what it must have felt like for everyone else, saying it first. Woof. Frank did say it was a kick in the head...

I also think I understand more than I ever did what these words mean. You are perfectly imperfect. A creature similar me, with a past filled with stories, dings in your armor, successes and failures. You have so much to give, and you've had quite a bit taken. Still working to face forward.

The things I know as I write this- you enhance my happiness, and challenge me. Hold space for me as no one else has, and respect all of my idiosyncrasies. You've cared for me at a time I've never felt more physically insecure, and emotionally confident.

I'm not sure if or when I'll say it again. Trying to go by how it feels. I'm just glad you don't feel the pressure I always did. I'm glad it was you I said it to.

Turns out I still have those rose- glasses from my younger years. Thanks for the reminder.

innocuous.

You write when it suits you, thinking it's innocuous. It isn't to me.

I can't even explain why I allow such access. I know the feelings have faded. At least that is the case for me. But there's a tether, a something. It's quite ambiguous. Something I can't quite explain.

I've cut you off before.

My bigger question is- why? What is it you're seeking? You know I won't come back. You know I only think of you when you reach out.  That's all it is- think, and let it go. So why reach out?

Questions I won't have answered, and I don't care to pursue. I'm curious, it's true. Not curious enough to pursue it.

You wish me the best, tell me you think of me often. What is it you're hoping to convey? I could tell you to stay away from me, give me peace. So why don't I? I can't answer that today either.