last night parade

Bands I will be making edits of

***If you want an edit of a band that isn’t on this list then let me know and I’ll make one for you***

5 Seconds Of Summer
A Day To Remember
All American Rejects
All Time Low
Before You Exit
Boys Like Girls
Christina Grimmie
Falling In Reverse
Family Force 5
Hey Violet
Mayday Parade
Of Mice & Men
Our Last Night
Panic! At The Disco
Pierce The Veil
Set It Off
Sleeping With Sirens
The Cab
The Ready Set
The Word Alive
Twenty One Pilots
We The Kings
Knuckle Puck
Neck deep
State champs

In sorting through correspondence, I came across a series of notes I wrote to her. Re-reading them was gut-wrenching. To see my optimism and hope of eight months ago was both strange and alienating. A dear friend told me I sound much less bright than I used to. She said it is expected since my heart and feelings have been drug through the mud. I’m allowed to be bitter. But, bitter hearts and bright ones live very much in the present, and that present I read was full of sun.

It was the morning before the Pride Parade:

Last night I stayed up late talking to you and I’m glad I did. I always learn a little more about you and a little more about myself when we talk. In those two short hours, we shared smiles and sighs and I felt myself becoming more vulnerable with you. I feel so much potential in the two of us that it is sometimes overwhelming - in the things we can accomplish and how the world is open for us to explore. I’m also glad you’re beginning to share [another] side with me and taking cues from me to learn my shifting boundaries. I sometimes think it is unfair that you must self-regulate, but at the same time it shows your very deep respect for me. That’s rare and I adore you for that.

At one point last night I felt tears well up inside when you talked about how easy it is for you to share with me. For you, that’s not easy, I know. I find myself saying the same. You catch me stumbling sometimes and it is beautiful how you hold me.

To cuddle with you would bring a new level of intimacy between us - one where we can touch without fear. It would be honest, just as we always are. And that’s refreshing. You’re refreshing.

I love how I’m your goodnight and you’re my good morning.

The next day, I sent this:

I fell asleep thinking of all the times I’ve wanted to call you beautiful, of all the times you’ve sent me a selfie and I’ve wanted to say you look so kissable. I thought of all those opportunities to say you’re utterly attractive but I missed them. I also thought of how every time you’ve shared your feelings with me and all I’ve wanted to do is hold you against my chest.

I woke up in a sweat. My chest was heaving and I had tears running down my face. I had a series of dreams where something wonderful happened between us. I don’t remember any specific details, but they all had to with our relationship changing - it was a good thing, this I know. I still feel the residue of those dreams and have knots and a strange sense of bliss mixed with anxiousness.

I said relationship? Last night. It is true I’ve been thinking a lot of us beyond talking. About the twinning of hearts, about your processes, about how special and dear you are to me, and all the beauty and uncertainty that surround us. I’ve been allowing myself to feel.

I can’t explain in words yet how deep my affection is for you. All I can say is I want all of you and I want to give you all of me.

I’ve said these things before, but today it has moved beyond butterflies and has turned to a burning in my bones.

Good morning, [my sweet].

She did offer me her heart. I gave her mine. That memory nips at my heels.

In less than a month after I sent her those notes, by my reckoning, she stopped self-regulating or rather there was nothing to regulate, as the promise of our meeting was not enough to sustain her, and she moved on. Or at least her heart had.

Her ex-girlfriend discovered her writings through mine. When she spoke to me of being found out, she was tearful. By the end of our conversation, I was a puddle of tears and raw nerves. I’d already undergone several crises of insecurity regarding how she felt toward me; she mentioned meeting men and women and feeling attracted to them, but not acting on that attraction because she was not ready for a relationship. I often questioned what we had; she told me once I was beyond all that, that I was more than a boy or a girlfriend. She was the same for me. But that conversation about her ex uncovered an unfortunate, dreadful truth I’d evaded.

When her ex pressed her about me and asked if we were in a relationship, she simply said no, I am a writer with a good imagination.

That’s all I was. I was essentially no one. I was crushed.

I buoyed myself by looking beyond it, by thinking of the personal intimacies we shared. However, the reality of it all seeped in. She once explained she was a very private person and shared our relationship with not a soul. In not sharing us or what we meant to each other, I meant not a thing; in meaning nothing, I was easy to dispose of. Yet, I am also to blame, since I was not keen on defining us because I was unsure of what I meant to her.

It is impossible to not gauge a relationship by what is experienced before. And her cagey nature sowed deep doubts. She only told me she loved me at the end, and that stabbed at my heart. Those words would have changed everything if said earlier but heard wounded only drove me closer to despondency.

In time, I felt she had disposed of me. Talk of a visit evaporated. She stopped calling, she stopped writing. She’d send a selfie, then silence. It was strange to go from deep conversations to a selfie. I understood I became irrelevant by the dog days of summer. At that point, I broke with her to protect my heart. I did as all close to me suggested. As much as I tried to defend what I thought were her processes, everyone around me saw her as a waste of my time and energy. I tried to call, nothing. I was in the midst of a crisis, nothing.

I did not know she was away. This was my mistake. By the same token, she said nothing of where she was going. Miserable, I pulled the plug.

I was heartbroken. I remained heartbroken. I am heartbroken.

In the intervening time between then and now, I realized I captured her fancy for a time. I was a bridge in her time of stress and sadness, and she was mine. We held each other in a very dark period in both of our lives. Perhaps all that’s left is the memory of the touching of our fingertips.

In a period of prolonged silence between us, I read something I attributed to her:

Sometimes I think I’m in love with destruction. When I was little, I used to smile as the hours of work on my elaborate sandcastle were washed away with high tide. I’ve always loved the taste of burnt bread and the smell of detritus on the coastline. I don’t just burn bridges; I incinerate them. Maybe I’m afraid of the permanence. Maybe I’m not sure how this all fits. Maybe I just have a habit of self-sabotage and something nice will never feel quite right. This is the only comfort zone I’ve ever known.

And that was the answer, plain and simple. Even if these were not her words, they resonated deep within me. It was not that I was disposable; it was once she’d reached her comfort zone with me, I’d gone too far and it made sense that she turned her back. And not just turn her back, but abandon me.

I’ve not given up on her. Not completely. But, I have rearranged my priorities. She is no longer my waking thought or evening hope. She taught me that I am worthy of love - just not hers.

For someone whom I cherished and cared so deeply about, I do not know how it had gotten to this low point.

So last night waiting for the parade this mother and son in front of us overheard something about me working at Disney, they ask where I work, I say Jungle. The boy, Alistair, then begins to have his Mickey toy lecture me about needing a license to drive those botes.

We talked for a while and then I snuck off to gather up some magic. I brought back a couple things from jungle I had made into a license for myself and of course one for him, along with one of my personal JuJu’s from the adventure trading game we had going on a while back.

It was also his birthday so of course I set up for a dozen or so cast members to come by 10min later to sing himhappy birthday.

I’d say I’m happy with how I spent my one and only day off!