Welcome to me…to this lifetime of weak metaphoric bones and 267 days of teary eyes. I warned you from the beginning, didn’t I? I brought forth my promise of commitment with my long list of conditions. Conditions such as aching for the baby sister who only had four hours of “why me?”, or the younger brother who thought killing himself was the better side to see. Conditions such as my loneliness which creeps in the night, and my fear of never waking up again once I turn out the light. You haven’t forgotten the best part, have you? You know, the part where the depths of my melancholy wash over me like tsunamis in the sky. This is me…this is we…and we haven’t had the promising chance to even try. In this life of mine, I chose to drift towards your life preserve, thinking you were the one who was going to save me. Some days I think I’m still at sea, dog paddling my way through life, with you always close by.
I remember the first time you took hold of my hand when a fresh coat of grief washed upon me, and I let you in, without a moment’s hesitation. Was I being selfish, allowing you to see the real mirror image of my soul, my existence? Should I have let you stay away, without any explanation, any “Dear John” letter? You have lost several years that you’ll never get back. I can’t promise that you’ll be able to hang on to any more in the future. In the end, all I’ll have to give is the “I tried” line. In the end that is all it will ever be; a failed try. But know, I did try.
When I look at your silent peace, your heaven-sent release, if only in your sleep, I am happy for you. I think it is here, in my absence, that you truly find happiness. In the deep corners of your subconscious you are alive, ready to take on the reality of what could’ve been. It is in your inner solitude that I am most jealous. How can one be jealous of something that could never be reached? Be a part of? But it’s there, poking it’s angry saddened little head through the locked door of your mind. You lay there, angelic and weightless, not thinking of a thing. This is where the metaphoric hamster in your brain takes a breather, where the ocean meets dry land. You are calm and care-free. And I am jealous of everything I’ve just seen.
I live in a world where my hamster never sleeps, where fear loves to creep and the thought of drifting away and never returning becomes the welcome mat of anxiety at my minds’ front door. I never chose what was behind curtain number four. I only wanted #1 because it’s more than likely better odds. Who stole my life from me? Who wished eternal tears and hard twisting heart rhythms to lay at my feet? I’ve landed the bonus where I even cry in my sleep. Who wished this for me? How I long for the nights of sweet vivid dreams brought on by exhaustion of long hours counting sheep.
Regardless of the outcome, this is the reality. And even in my tantrums, I have learned to accept the hand dealt to me. I gave up on self-pity and self-destruction, and leaned more towards the spontaneous crying and itchy blanket called loneliness. This is me…this is we; the mirror looking back at the mess which becomes me. Nowadays, I tend to cry when you aren’t around. When the music is deep and therapeutic, when the movie strangles my heart with both hands; this is my relief. Do you get it? I’m giving you a break. I’m letting you off the hook, here’s a freebie on me. This is one thing you’ll never understand…that this me, it is not you. You can have the rest; like my playfulness and crazy nonsense. You get the loving ways and the part of my heart that beats for you. I’ve swallowed the key to the other room. Don’t ask for it back.
I didn’t grasp it the first time, you know, the uncomfortable feeling of what to do when I couldn’t stop crying and feeling so bleak. But you’re better off, and I know that now. This is something I must deal with without the company of awkward silences and uncomfortable movements. The darkness does eventually end, and the new sunrise becomes a welcome home sign; even if short-lived. I’m comfortable in this accepting skin. I take the good without taking it for granted while I take the bad at face value.
I live in the numbness of a never-ending dream where nothing pleasant happens in the end. I wait excitedly for the surprise gift of a wonderful day, whether in a song or the way you look at me, and I relish in the love that gives me a temporary fix. You have always been my drug of choice. The darkened clouds and bitter shadows; they will continue to live, just now I keep them in the deeper end. I’ve wanted you and all that you freely possess . My baggage was clear and will be till the end. I’ve wanted you and not the choice to keep on running. I just can’t get rid of the closet filled with sorrow and disappointing sentiment. Please remember to read your faithful contract. Look for the signature at the dotted line. Remember these images when it’s time for me to unravel all of my despair with the lights turned off and the music keeping the poison at bay. Remember there will always be better days.
June 17, 2013 | Categories: Letters and Poetry | Tags: bitter sweet meanings, depression, letters, love, metaphor conversations, reality | Comments Off on In the Background is Where I Learn to Live, at the Forefront is where I Learn to Give.