1. Last year the doctor told me that this kind of sadness is inherited. That they have discovered that sometimes it skips a generation. That the darkness inside me did not grow from nowhere it came from somewhere. I thought to myself, that there is a reason why I have always thought my heart was an attic where I hid pieces of myself. Pieces no one ever wanted.
2. The first boy I ever chose to show this sadness to decided to take it from my attic heart and planted it inside my soul instead. It was easy for him. My soul was a garden I showed him too soon. And he decided that meant he was allowed to take anything he wanted to.
3. Every man who has dared to love me since, has stared at this dark ivy covered soul like it is a haunted house, and I have never tried to explain the thing I have always known. Because men do not have to learn how to open their own selves and lock themselves up again. They are taught to be themselves and the world will accept them better that way. We are taught to break our bodies to be loved. We are taught to confuse sex and love.
4. I knew a girl whose father left her and she took all of her love for him and ate it to comfort herself. People joked how she lived in the kitchen. No one saw her tears when she ate.
5. A friend once told me that she locked herself inside the closet when her parents fought because her father beat her mother and she wished herself into the wood, just so she knew what it was like to be an inanimate object that couldn’t hear or feel anything.
6. My mother told me, that it is the way of the world for girls to grow into women by locking secrets inside themselves. Till now I still imagine every woman I have ever met as a big beautiful house. Full of secret rooms, hiding places, once filled with innocent laughter and joy. Now slightly sad and forgotten because of all those lost places inside them full of secrets.
I want to wash my mouth out
to get rid of all the hurtful things I said,
all the ugly words
that have escaped my lips.
I wish I could let water
wash away all the pain I’ve caused,
all the hopes I have shattered,
and start all over again.
My friend once said love is easy. Well, i don’t agree. If it was easy i would be with him. If it was easy i would be able to hug him whenever i wanted. If it was easy i would be able to kiss him all the time. If it was easy i would be looking at his eyes now, saying “i love you” and he would say it back .
You say I am the best you’ve ever had, but neither of us care to admit I am also the best you’ll never be able to keep. I am a furious, windstruck storm of a human being, with passion bordering on madness and romanticism bordering on obsession. My kisses are the only part of myself your lips can fathom, and your hands cannot even touch my body without your fingers staining from all the storms that rage within me.
You seem to love the type of women whose eyes are serene and bright as the summer days they spend with you, who are beautiful and competent in the ways the world is only to happy to accept. They love with lukewarm tenderness and just a hint of arrogance only a life of privilege can bring- they hurt you, perhaps, but never amaze you, and the height of their unpredictability will end in a drunk car ride home that tastes almost as common as the whiskey you drink to forget them. But forgotten they will soon become, and there are many, many, women who will share the shade of their eyes and the nature of their well contained laughs. They will take months from you, tears from you, and sobriety from you temporarily, but never anything deeper. You do not understand the ways, then, in which women like me love. I will take the speck of honey brown from your eyes, the warmth of your skin, and the movement of your hips and hold them closer than you pull me, for I do not know what it means to feel without completion. To love, to feel, to touch without giving all of myself is a foreign concept I have no desire to become acquainted with, and I am sorry, but the only compensation I accept is everything you cannot give in fear it will destroy you. I will love you with all I have to offer, all of my madness and wild hair and sweet laughter and crooked teeth, and while there could be paradise between us, I offer no promises about what we will take from each other. Does that frighten you? It should. The truth is I am as full of destruction as I am affection.
You crave the sensation of me on top of you, but you do not understand me. Do not be fooled by the kindness in my eyes or the softness of my skin- I am a multitude of miraculous tragedies dressed in art. And as much as I want to love you and spread the deepest parts of myself over you like the tides on a coastal shore, I know you cannot love me in the way I demand to be loved. You are too accustomed to the idea of affection with no lasting consequence, and so you cannot possibly have enough to give without leaving me at least partly empty. I am someone full of presence, and any absence you leave will leave me bare.
ap (7.17) I do not know what it means to love with mercy
Here’s to the people we said goodbye to, even though all we ever wanted was to hold on to them, begging them to stay. Here’s to those of us who still think of someone who’s long gone and struggle to let go. Here’s to the people we miss so much that the mere thought of them feels like a knife to the throat. Here’s to chances we didn’t take because the fear of failing was more than something that crossed our minds, it was a tangible thing that seeped into our skin and paralysed our bones. Here’s to the tears we allow to stream down our cheeks before we fall asleep at night so no one sees. Here’s to the love we have given over the years, the pieces of our hearts we handed out and never got back. Here’s to feelings we had to hide and fake smiles we plastered on our faces to uphold our charades. Here’s to whatever obstacle we’ve had to overcome, whatever battle we’ve had to fight, whatever pain we’ve had to feel, to make us kinder and better people - to make us evolve and grow. Here’s to everyone who believes in something more, in magic, in love, in the power of dreams and faith and everyone who has something to fight for. Here’s to everything that made us who we are today. Every glorious thing, the mountains we had to climb, the stars we had to count. Here’s to our ordinary lives we never fail to turn into something extraordinary. Here’s to our beautiful selves, raw and real, a reminder that life is not a line or a constant, but a vivid creature with its ups and downs and that all inconveniences considered, we’re doing pretty damn great.
It’s okay if you don’t want the same things as me in the long run. Because I like you a lot and you make me happy but we both will change in ways we can’t be sure of. So it’s okay if we don’t share a forever as long as we have right now.