Ending without a beginning. Beginning
without an ending. Somehow always ending back up at where you
started but not really knowing how you got there. That was kind of
how things always were between us. It was like being crushed by
overwhelming depression every day. Some days thinking that it was
love. Our story was never truly remarkable. Okay, why would I write
about something completely unremarkable? You got me. We were pretty
marvelous. We were magic.
Do you ever feel lucky when you have the
realization that things are not what they seem, early on? Almost as
if you were being given a little gift by your creator. It saves your
life. Literally saves your life. It saves your time and brain
capacity and most of all it saves your heart. It saves your heart
from the twisting agony of feeling punched out and saves your pillows
from tears. When you find out that he wasnt who you thought he was
you feel grateful and angry. I felt mostly angry with myself for not
seeing it sooner and for not feeling it before I was in over my head.
Before the rushing waves carried me out to shore. And you never
really notice how lost you are until the sun starts to beat down on
your bobbing head and you wonder how long you can wander out in this
empty sea before something nips at your feet and you get taken under
or burn alive from the neck up. There is no winning. There is
simply no escape. These feelings are going to get you whether you're
ready or not so – oh – you wernt ready? Oops. My bad.
And what keeps you?
What keeps you when he hasnt called? And what keeps you when he
doesnt kiss you goodnight? And what kept me when she occupied the space
he said he saved for me? What kept me up at night and what kept knocking in my stomach. What kept me hot for him. What kept me from
telling her that twice this morning he was inside of me?
Magic. Some
bullshit concept that wasnt even a concept. It was a word. It was
language that I made mean something and it was nothing to me other
than smoke he blew at me from behind his blunt. It meant that I
stood atop the world on a pedestal that he described in detail
specifically for me. An ethereal place with room for only one angel
– his angel. Me. He said he needed to keep me there. Baby, I
have business to take care of down here. You stay up there where I
know I can keep you safe. You dont belong down here. Here is where
you get hurt. It's a mess down here. This place is not for you .
Let me keep you way above.
At first, I grabbed
at him from above. I begged for him to come up to meet me where he
kept me but he often left me alone. It's messy here he would
always say. So one day I told him: You must love the mess you
made. I won't be left alone up here. Someone worthy will meet me at the
top. But I hadnt followed through. I painted a beautiful and profound portrait of a fair skinned damsel who
awaited a prince and then I realized how the one claiming to be my
prince was nothing but a lazy imposter who never had any intention of
saving me. So I had to save me.