The New Guy

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Don’t believe for a second that these tears won’t end one day. Soon the sun will come up and it will dry up all these tear drops on my face. Every time I think about my dad I wonder what life would be like if he were still around. I wonder what he would think about me as I am now, what he’d say about my choices in life, about my friends and about my choices in guys…at least this one guy in particular.

I’m almost 23 and until this april I had no prospects of a relationship. It’s still in its earliest stage and it’s a work in progress, something we’re both trying to get used to and cope with. But I’m excited this week I had some interesting conversations with my guy and as of Saturday, I came to the this conclusion that I was going to allow myself to be excited and unapologetically so. I have this fear of wanting things so much that I’ll never get them.

There’s a story to this fear. I as very much younger, probably about 14 years old and it’s Saturday. My parents had decided that we were going to go to the beach on Sunday morning. I was so excited that I laid out my clothes, I check the time constantly to make sure i’d go to bed early, I’d watch that clock closely, I couldn’t wait. The beach was my favorite place in the world and every thing I did on that Saturday was to ensure that I had everything covered for Beach day. I woke to the most horrific sound. The sound of my dreams breaking and dissolving away as rain thundered away outside. There was no hint of a sun in the sky as everything was completely grey, the air think with large streams of water….a never ending ambush. I looked to my mother who was calming moving about doing her work in the kitchen, for any sign of hope and there was none. I had decided since that day that I wasn’t going to get my hopes up about things, I had believed wholeheartedly that it was this hope, this meticulous preparation I had that caused it to rain. Now in hindsight it sounds silly to base most things on that one day. But I had always had days like that, where I’d put my heart and soul into it and in the end, I’m left disappointed, my heart sore.

So this new adventure many people call a relationship, my first one ever, is something I’m trying and constantly failing to not overthink. I’m bouncing off the walls and smiling and singing in the shower and daydreaming and listening specifically to the songs that remind me of my love. It’s a sad state I’m in. It’s lovely, but it’s so icky, isn’t it? I mean the thoughts and feelings, the random rolls of poetry that comes to mind when I look at his face, when I think about his face, I sigh deeply every time at this and wonder, how am I to survive this. But then again, I laugh because he’s the first guy I loved enough to risk it for and then again, it doesn’t feel like a risk. It’s his first relationship too and so it’s bound to be a beautiful mess of highs and lows. It’s never like what you read in the books and see on t.v, it came suddenly, but it’s been building up for a while. He was my best friend first, my favorite person at school, then he became the one person I cared for the most. He’s just right, feels right. We get carried away sometimes, in each other and in our heads, but it’s a great feeling to know that there’s someone out there that I sorta belong to. My best friend, my companion. He’s the rose to my Doctor (Yes I’m The Doctor), the Peter to my Olivia, (Fringe) The Dean to my Sam. Okay I’ll stop now…

I wish my dad were here to meet him. I wonder truly every day what it would be like to bring this boy home to my dad. He’s such a cool dude, a big personality and with an undeniable ‘swag’ that you’ve got to love. My dad had a ‘swag’ to him too. He was classy and unique, quiet and was what I always thought of as a Cool Cat, on the good days. The days when the house was quiet and full of wonder, no fighting, no nagging, no noise. My dad was cool dude and I hope he would have liked my choice. It makes sad that I will never know what he would like and what he would say, were he still alive and I find it unfair sometimes that I can’t have the answers. Maybe I’m better off, without him, maybe I somehow managed to avoid confusion and emotional turmoil, who knows. My dad wasn’t the best dad in the world, but I do wish I had him here sometimes.

On a random afternoon I’d walk up to him, while he would be reading the papers or watching T.V. I’d be cautiously optimistic and then I’d say “Hey Dad, I need to talk to you about something.” He probably grunt and say “What’s up?” look at me and then back down at the papers in his hand or the T.V before him. I’d then say “I want you to meet someone…hold on” Then I creep back to the corridor and with my hand wrapped around his securely, I’d say “This is…[insert name here]” with an impossible smile on my face and God firmly in my thoughts. Heart beating so fast I’d jump in and out comes the title- “My boyfriend dad…this is my boyfriend.” or something less easy going like that.

My Late Reply

You were worried that you were going to be a disappointment to me, but don’t be. That’s not possible, at least not on a large scale. Then I thought about it. I thought about it as I sat down in my gallery missing you and feeling miserable and wonderful. I thought about all the times I was frustrated by you, all the times you said things to upset me. All the times your mood affect my good disposition, every time you didn’t say what was on your mind and this drove me insane, every time. But as I thought hard about those times I realized that they make up all the things I really love about you.

Can’t you see, if I subtract one thing, what would I be left with? Who would I love if all these varying things and much more didn’t add up to this spectacular human being I know and adore. I thought bout this as I smiled, looking out t the past and how we came to be, the messed up, teenage angst that built up over the years and spilled over into our collective laps. We’re young and naive and do stupid things, but this isn’t one of them. The fact that we’re young shouldn’t be a reason to stop feeling and to stop experiencing life. You’re scared and I’m scared, but you’re never alone in this. Sometimes, ironically it’s so easy to feel alone in your feelings for someone, even when you both know that the feeling is mutual.

 

You were worried about disappointing me and this is my revised response to that concern.

Disappointment is a part of our lives, it’s the part we hope to avoid, it cripples us when we collect all our experiences together in hopes of having new ones. When we’re about to take a big step and we’re suddenly reminded of all the times someone we loved, admired, looked up to, let us down. All the times we were left alone to fight our battles, even after we tried reaching out to the people we always believed were going to be there.

For me disappointment lives in a room above my heart, and although it has never been broken all the way through, the very thought that I may have to give it away, has me cringing for moment someone, The someone lets it slip. I brace myself for the cracked pieces to spill over the floor at my feet, because the sum of all the disappointment i have endured makes me think this way. Disappointment is a bridge for heart ache and heart break, it tires us out, it keeps us from moving forward sometimes. We brace ourselves over and over and replay the same things time and time again, looking for signs in anything else that is remotely similar. But here’s where I think you’ll disappointment me the most.

Every time you feel like you can’t tell me the truth, for fear i’ll not understand. Every time you say you’ll call and you fall asleep, but then you apologize thinking i’m massively unforgivably upset with you. Every time you refuse to share your musical tastes with me, because you’re way too hipster and “i won’t understand.” Every time you’re upset and sad or heartbroken and there’s nothing I can do to ease your pain, this will disappoint me the most. When you suddenly have to be at a meeting or some work thing and you have no choice but to cancel on me, i’ll be disappointed.

When something major happens and you neglect to share it with me, for what ever reason, yeah, that’d be disappointing too. If there’s ever a time you feel like you can’t be yourself around me, that would be a prime example. But even as I try to make this clear that you are going to disappoint me in some small ways, inevitable things happen, we both have lives and sometimes life is going to force us to have to be apart for whatever reason, but not permanently. I’ll most be disappointed if you let life get in the way, and settle with the wedge it creates sometimes.

But know this, I love all that you are and when you adore someone so completely, things are going to get in the way. There will be times when I’ll be moody, you’ll be moody, we both say things that we don’t mean. We fight and make-up, we misunderstand each other, or get lost in translation somewhere. It’s going to happen, and what i’m saying is, that I’m all up for it, for every bit of it, because out of all the things you will ever do to disappoint me, the one where you decide to let your own fears and insecurities about us ruin the chance of us actually being together….yeah that one would hurt the most and deepest.

I hope this makes sense. :)

Stillness Afternoon

Is it strange that the sunlight on my face reminds me of you? I close my eyes and behind my lids I can see the yellow light moving back and forth as I play hide and seek with the sun through my windows. I close my eyes and you come to me, yet again, calling me out of my stillness, forcing me to look at you. Can you leave me a moment? I want to remember this, I want to remember me just as I am with out you here, yet with you everywhere. The music, the sunlight, the sounds of the buses and cars passing by. the shuffling of the leaves as the wind goes by…memories of you that invade my still mind. 

Is it strange that every love song commands me to think of you? Ever other lyric spells out your name in the most uncanny way. Coldplay comes on suddenly and the melody takes me back. Suddenly, I’m Chris Martin singing of you and our time together. How fast it all seems to go by, only after it was over. How slowly ever moment is spent with you. Your gaze locks me in and everything else around us acts like a cocoon to keep us here, alone, together. All the sounds and the whispers and the distant conversations are merely scores to the scene we have acted out for each other. No set script, no games, no plans, just the constant motion of forwardness. I get high after I get high, thinking about how strange it is to be here with you. Me. You. It makes no sense, but as quickly as that thought enters my mind I suddenly think, ‘Oh yes, but it does…make so much sense. It’s one of those #we-all-saw-this-coming phenomenons and I keep scolding myself for questioning it or trying to make sense of it. You. Me. We. Us. It does make sense for what ever it is, and  I hope that something sweet comes out of it and lives a long sweet adventurous life, if you catch my vague drift. 

I wont say what I have in my mind, even in there it’s fractured into pieces and scattered about my brain, like pepper seeds, so I’ll not be too haste in think that one simple thought. That thought that now, as I write it, begins to build itself into a sentence, a question, a command, a phrase, a thing, an idea that destroys my present stillness, but gives me every hope for you.

Photography Class

Today I feel sick. I make excuses why I should give up on that thing that has been on my mind for a while. In the background of life, here is this thing, my thorn on the rose of my present existance. Photography class- I used to bury myself in photographs, I’d get the camera, any camera and I could see multiple beautiful things everywhere. I want to spend my days taking photographs and hear over and over and over again how jealous a friend of mine was when ever he saw them. My eyes are geniuses, they place everything so beautifully in a frame. Those colors, the textures, the faces, the places, I wanted to live in my photographs. 

Life is hard when you are forced to do the thing you already love in a manner that takes the adventure and discovery out of everything. Learning it in a classroom robs me of the color I’ve always been able to see in the world. Yes, learning is a good thing, it’s one of my favorite things, but now I find myself being rebellious, I’m missing class, always sick, ill, preoccupied. I physically feel unable to think about doing anything but find a reason to not stay, to get out and not have the responsibility of being in this class. I hate being forced to do something I find so freeing and cathartic. Everything is dull and now, burned with formulas, diagrams, assignments and all I see are steel walls chocking me. I love photography but as for now, I can’t seem to love it in a ‘class’ sense. Not for school, not for some lecture, but only for me. This was a soft mistake, I said, a soft one. It continues to hit me slowly.  

Confession Thurday

You know what I hate about you? The way you smell that lingers in my nostrils like perfume. Your hair gel gets stuck in my poor nose like it was smoke, I’m breathing in smoke and and it burns my insides. What I hate is that the scent of random detergent reminds me of you, like I was hugging you right then and there. How is it that every cologne I get a whiff of only smells like you. Obviously you don’t wear cologne like those boys. They smile and laugh and all I see is you. They talk and ask questions and its all you. Every song I hear reminds me of your tastes.

I’m laughing at your jokes when you’re not there, I’m seeing you everywhere I turn. I sit alone and suddenly begin to fantasize about what i’d do if you were to unexpectedly walk up behind me. I hate it when ever we see each other and we say we’d “see [you] tomorrow” and tomorrow comes and you’re not there. You’re not there and my hopes are suddenly dashed like a child whose balloon had just popped. Or floated away. I’m sorry I feel like this, yet I’m not sorry.

I need to get this out. If you say ‘i miss you’ find me tomorrow, find me now, say something, say anything. Your silence is just as bad as you not being here. Your words are just as empty if they don’t exist….what? What I hate is thinking about you, having to pinch myself, curse myself, look myself in the eyes and say “Snap out of it!” like Arctic Monkeys. It’s my new favorite song and I play on repeat. “Snap out of it!” Then I find myself daydreaming like a school girl and her crush and I don’t mind, but I don’t like it either.

Bare With Me

Bare with me, my love. You find me in a most restless disposition. I’m thinking of you again and it pains me so. I close my eyes and all I can see is your face, your eyes staring into my soul, every crevice, every cave in it, you conquer effortlessly.

How can I be alright with this aching distance? I find myself drawing patterns of your face on my skin and in your absence it does more harm to me than good. So bear with me, again, as I attempt to understand the extent of my feelings for you. I imagine that you’re fine, absolutely unbothered by my absence, my essence,you  always drink up as if to fill yourself for when you might need it. I hope. I am not sure, but I hate these feelings, these bodily aches and the traces of thought that go all the way back to your eyes. I am so, fucking annoyed by your absence, you haven’t the slightest idea. You haven’t the comprehension to understand the extent of this annoyance I feel.

I look at my hands and I imagine you coming in to hold them. I look at my lips in the mirror and imagine your fingers awkwardly caressing them. Your clumsy, rough hands, that my body so quickly becomes accustomed to. Your rough, firm fingers cupping my round face, as you turn my gaze to you, like lovers under some spell. I sigh now, as I write knowing that you’ll never read these words, thankfully. You are only to know as much I afford you of my feelings. But know from here that I am taken so cooly with you. I am so achingly annoyed over and over again as I think of you. Hoping to see you in random strangers around. Hoping to see your colors and your shape coming toward me with that smile that says you have been thinking the same things.

Isn’t it truly awful being a girl sometimes? My  breasts ache for you, while my heart begins it tantrums, to which I hold no comfort at all, no hope of it ceasing soon. It feels what it wants. My body braces itself for your strong embrace and your fast hands around my waist and down my back. Like a switch you flip me on and I instantly become alit with need and desire and blissful ignorance, never knowing  exactly what would happen but happily readying myself for whatever. My breath gets caught in my throat and I am molten liquid ready to form itself into the shape you make me. Ready to make myself clay, with your finger prints diligently pressed into my design. I am so much more than we both expect in these moments and we both know how wild I can be…so bare with me, my love, bare it all with me.

Angela Valerie

Sorry About This

How do you manage your feelings? They make me so sick sometimes. I sit in my gallery and I think about all the things I’d do if you were here. I imagine stupid things like holding your hand and kissing you and holding you and you holding me. It’s so stupid. So stupid that I can’t stop thinking about it. This is why I’m single, it’s too hard thinking about yourself as one half of another person. It’s too risky, too ‘out there’ too much, too soon. I my heart just feels tired, it just feels tired, I feel tired, thinking of you is tiresome. Writing about you is tiresome, Breathing sometimes is tiresome…but I love every breath I make, especially the ones i spend on you. See what I mean? I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t write songs about you, start twitter campaigns about you. I don’t post on your wall. I don’t text you and wait for you to reply. I’m not that girl and you’re not that guy. We don’t do the ‘online thing’ we value each other much more in person right? 

Sigh…I said I was never going to be the kind to share status updates about ‘being in a relationship’ but I find myself understanding why people do that. It’s confirmation, acknowledgment, initiation…completion. I get it. While I try to figure out my feelings my fantasies and daydreams seem to have it all figured out. If I ask myself ‘what if?’ no doubt I’m hooked on something dangerous…these feelings of mine.