Trying not to fall apart 

I go through these weird phases of encouragement. I cheer my decisions on and confidently tell myself it’s all going to work out. I wonder when I became satisfied with being unhappy. Was it something so long ago, that shaped my acceptance of less than? Less than anything remotely connected to my idea of joy. Regardless, accepting is what I do. “Oh, paycheck short! That’s fine I don’t care to eat everyday.” I never really accepted failure and now it seems like the expected outcome, fail. 
This love thing has really got ahold of me. 
Not much matters if I’m not mattering to her. Typing that sentence made me feel pathetic. Yet, it’s the only sentence that makes any sense. Torturous our growing and secure friendship. As it builds, I find myself standing crippled and accepting. Her head on my shoulders as we loosely hug goodbye. I remember when we used to make out for all my neighbors to see.. Today, while talking to a co-worker I scrolled through my pictures and smiled at the memories that accompanied them. I felt invoked to share my gleeful position with her, “thanks” she says. Why am I the only one that cares about it? She said, I was too important to not be in her life. 

Celebration? 

Importance. 

Lucky her.

I’m left unsatisfied. Smiling like a fool, at the photos that show us laughing and carrying on. I would typically send the photo to her so she could share in my joy, but that typically results in a party of one. 

I tried to talk to her about it today. Share an intellectual conversation, about love and the lack of logic. Though the conversation had depth, the words “I love him” bounce off my consciousness and numbed my soul. I thought to myself. “Don’t fall apart!” Tears filled my eyes and I choked on every word that could come to mind. “Yea I hear you.” I replied.

I did hear her. I always hear her, and I never care to change my reaction. On days like this, I find myself questioning my own confidence…feeling rather less than. It never softens, her approach, blunt and honest truth. Always. I need it. Maybe one time I’ll ask and accept the answer and move on. Painful. It’s all very painful as I work a job that I hate, and is less than. Live a life that I did not choose and love someone that doesn’t love me back. She never changes. Well, she changed from the words written on my wall of love and joy to…not at all. 

She has poisoned my entire existence. And I embellish the devastation. I noticed that when I look at her, her face looks different to me, I can’t smell her anymore. I am far too afraid to touch her. We hug with loose arms and I wonder for how long. She drops arms as I am still clinched around her. What do I do now? Why is it so easy to tell me, that she loves someone else and in that same breathe exclaim, “I’m not going to push you away, fuck that.” 

What gives her the audacity? Me. I allow it. I don’t know what to do without it. At some point I made her my entire life, and during that time she gathered a much better sense of her love for another. I’m so incredibly sad and disappointed with my behavior. 

Foolish

Careless

I’ve continued to lose focus and now I can’t begin to find it. I wish I had some good news to displace the bad, but I’m trying not to fall apart. 

Everything has to work…

Everything has to work. Everything has to work for you, even if you don’t like some things, even those things have to be things that work for your displeasure. Sometimes there are things that piss us off, and that’s fine, but there are things that we shouldn’t stand for at all. Those things are not fine. Those things don’t work. For some reason, those things become little in the grand scheme of love. Love is big. Love is lust. Love is hunger. Love is painful as fuck. We seem to think that the painful parts are a part of the growing process. We think that the bullshit we put up with, are things we need to go through to love completely. I don’t buy it. Stop wasting your time with the bullshit. What about the lust and the other fun stuff? That’s what I want to focus on, but boy, sometimes it can be hard to let the fun stuff overcome. Just relax and let it happen. There will always be bullshit, and I can’t tell you to just turn a blind eye to it. What happens if you pay it enough attention that it’s fed, but not enough that it ruins the fun? If you have other things that work, why can’t you focus on that? I believe that, if you allow yourself to focus on the good, the bad happens far less. I mean, it’s so tempting to go through someone’s phone or to stalk their social media accounts, but my mom used to say, “If you go looking for trouble you will find it.” So, don’t go looking. It will find a way to you, without your help. By then, you will have surely waste your time stressing why someone is slipping into your partners DMs. Like let them slide on into them, you are probably lying next to this person, what’s that conversation have to do with anything?

Wasting our time. I can sit and think that, thinking is cheating. (When you are thinking about cheating on your partner, then it is the same as actually doing it.) If you see something that appears your partner is wanting to cheat, then that is just like cheating. Well, throw yourself a good fit and help them right out the door. If that’s what you want to do. The thing is… if they are literally thinking about fucking someone else. Then they eventually will. It’s fine. Take that as a precursor, and move forward. They are about to leave your ass anyway. I have never thought about sleeping with someone else, if I were happy with my lover. Have you? There was something that wasn’t working for you, and you were a little bitch about it and decided to betray someone’s trust. That’s your karma. That’s your fault. What sucks though, is when you are happy and they are not… Something’s aren’t working and you are denying it. You aren’t doing something right and you know it… But what are you doing to fix it? Everything? Not for yourself, but for them. Therefore, something isn’t working for you. Everything has to work.

I think back to a relationship I had, that left me terribly destroyed with the demise of it. I spent my days lying around listening to Adele and drinking. I spent my nights out with my friends and more drinking. I wanted to do any and everything to get that girl back. When my attempts didn’t work, I was heartbroken. I looked at that demise so intently, yet, couldn’t see that I was really just unhappy to begin with. I knew that she needed more from me. It could’ve all been so simple, if I would’ve put her before my friends. If I would’ve let her win one fight. I didn’t want to give her those things and she started to stray. I choose to be pissed and childish about it, even when I decided I would give more, I really didn’t mean it. If it comes to you optioning, then it’s probably not working. Stop worrying about what the fuck they are doing and worry about you. I went to the darkest parts of my consciousness to try to salvage that relationship. We tangled for years. Only for me to realize she wasn’t the one. I didn’t like her friends. She had changed over the course of the years, and I had as well. We went two completely different directions, unfortunately. And her friends annoyed the piss out of me. I never went back. I remember being at her house late one night, she had been out with her buds and was telling me about her night, as we were getting in the bed. I just thought about how awful everything she said sounded and I was so thankful I hadn’t been there. From that point, I knew that she wasn’t the one. I hate to say it was because her friends sound like idiots, but that’s really it. I didn’t want to fuck with them like that. Those friends wouldn’t work for me.

Everything has to work… if it doesn’t then how do you expect to get anywhere? We are wasting our time, knowing damn well shit isn’t working for us. But we stick it out and think it’s us learning or something stupid. I decided that I wasn’t going sweat the shit that will not work for me. I am not even fucking with it. I could miss out on some really great girls, but in the end they aren’t the one. If you aren’t looking for the one then what does it matter, waste everyone’s time, its fine. But don’t complain that you aren’t finding the one. Well bitch, stop fucking around with people who don’t have everything you want. Let me just stress that not everything will be amazing. There is always going to be some bullshit to deal with, because people are idiots. We do dumb shit, but the right one will not do the wrong thing. That thing that crosses you and makes you want to set the world on fire, isn’t going to come from someone who is your match. It’s not possible. You have things in common because they work. That doesn’t mean you guys are the same person. That doesn’t happen either. Doesn’t mean that things won’t hurt. But it is not supposed to kill you. It is not supposed to feel like you are just dying by an action of someone you care about. It will and should never work that way. Forgiveness is one thing, but if you feel like you could hold a grudge about it, you aren’t ever going to be over it.

We need to pay attention to these little annoyances. These fights that bring tears and raise voices. They need attention but if you are going to focus on that bullshit, it is not working for you. Let it go. Or you need to accept that this person isn’t the one. You can and should continue to work on things with them. Not because you think there is more there, but because there is something for you to change within yourself. Or sex is great. Keep fucking. Stop looking for rings and houses with them. By all means, take that vacation that you two have been planning. Just remember that this person isn’t the one you are meant to be with and keep it pushing. Maybe you find yourself forgiving them and it will work for you. I guess that happens. But more times than not, we are wasting our time knowing something isn’t working for us. Let us just stop that. You can have everything you want, just have to take things for what they are. But what do you do when you love like love is life, but there is something that isn’t working for you?

Currently, I have a situation in my relationship that isn’t working for me. I hate it. I turn my nose up at it. It’s stupid. I pay attention to it. But I don’t focus all my energy on it. She wonders if I will always make little remarks, once we get past this. Hmm. Once we get past this, I won’t have to pay attention to it, because it won’t exist. I don’t want to go backwards or stay in the same spot. I don’t even want to pay attention to it, now. I want to focus on all the sex we have or the adventures we go on. I don’t want to start a bullshit fight because something isn’t working for her. It isn’t working for me, either. So, we got a problem. We fight about it. This clouds our interactions sometimes. But it is not our focus. I take it for what it is, because even in our fights, it works for me. I look at it objectively and I speak about it directly. And she sits there like a stone. Ha. It drives me crazy. I have learned that I need to make my point and shut the fuck up. And then I get the responses, I need. Attention is paid to the immediate conflict and we move on. It is not our focus. We are the focus and for now, for the most part, it is working for us.

The point is everything has to work for it to be successful. Stop wasting time trying to make it work. That’s silly. If you realize you love to fuck this person but hate to hear them talk, stop talking to them. It’s that simple. I would rather be alone than unhappy. I want to get my rocks off, too, but not to the extent I have to deal with awful people. If you find yourself so deep in love, but you suspect your partner is cheating. They probably are and you probably aren’t that deep in love after all. You can say that its bullshit, but think back to situation where you thought you were in love, and now you are not. It gets much clearer in the end and that’s fine. I bet you weren’t that happy to begin with. You can’t say, you did everything for them and they left you. I mean, were you happy doing everything for someone else? Probably not. They probably weren’t doing shit for you, and your fool ass was just gleefully trying to make it work. Wasting your time. Sometimes shit happens, and we are happy but it doesn’t work out. We find out later on, that we weren’t projecting happiness in the ways that were needed to our partner. That is unfortunate. It doesn’t mean we need to stick around in a puddle of shit, because we think there is something to salvage. Not every tear is wasted, not every tear is needed. When we lose the love, it wasn’t right. We weren’t right. They weren’t right. But we will always waste a bit of time trying to figure it out.  And that’s fine. That’s the growth of it all. If you are trying to figure out things for yourself. not for the sake of a relationship, then that’s called GROWTH. No one else can build a better you… so stop wasting time allowing someone else to control the better parts of you. Everything has to work for you… or nothing will.

Known and Unknown

Well… These words come out of her mouth now. These tears fall from her face, and I am none-the-wiser. She has probably said a total of 6 words in 5 days. Pertaining. Precaution would be look ahead and notice any dangers. What’s the opposite of that? Because that’s what I doing, probably. I feel like I should be scared. I feel like I should be worried. I know I should be pissed. I’m a little pissed. I am. Then I’m like what the fuck? How can someone be so drenched in confusion, yet so calm? I am not even worried about it. I tried to explain it to my friend, and I couldn’t form sentences correctly. I didn’t have examples. I didn’t use any of my famous metaphor techniques. I just sounded like a fucking idiot. I paced. I don’t pace, who does that? And I can’t talk to her about it. We don’t have to apparently.

The other night she came over, we cooked dinner, well she cooked. I sat there reading to her. (She cooked a dish that’s traditionally popular for her. Meat and potatoes. From what I can gather, it’s obviously a meat and potatoes dish, but it’s more like a soup with some specific Mexican seasoning.) Once dinner was completed, she made our plates; she does that. She always makes my plate and hers. She always ask what I want drink before she sits down. She used to tell me, in the beginning, how traditionally the women serve the men. Not that I’m the man, but in our situation I would be. A few days ago, I gave her shit because she hasn’t been serving me or even cooking for that matter. I told her, “You tricked me!” and she laughed from her belly.

Sometimes I worry about what I am saying to her, careful not to piss her off. Like she hates the word “bitch”, that’s a no-no in this house. But it’s like one of my favorite words to say, so I struggle with that often. She hates that word. It’s cute. I mean she gets pretty mad about it, but it’s cute when she’s mad. Even when she’s like thinking about punching me in the face, it is still cute. They always say, don’t laugh at a woman when she’s mad, but it’s just so stinking cute, that I can’t help but laugh. One time I laughed so much that I had to pull the car over and apologize. She was pretty pissy the rest of the night. I can’t say I’ll work on that because it’s my favorite. There’s these little things about her that I can never fully put into words especially, when trying to explain it to other people. And it’s weird. Especially, when she is the only thing I talk about.

So back to the story. We watched “Fifty Shades of Grey” and ate dinner. We enjoy watching movies together and this time she didn’t fall asleep before it ended. However, when it ended things went from causal to intense, with no words spoken. I can tell you what I was thinking, but I couldn’t begin to describe how she was feeling. I thought, ‘well the movie is over now, now I have to figure out whether or not she is staying.’ I said nothing. I placed my forehead against hers and tried to come up with the words to ask her to stay. I felt sad because it was a decision that was not mine to make, one that could not go favorably for me. I felt sad because she could leave me, and I did not want her to do that. But I couldn’t find the words. I began to cry. I didn’t know where the tears came from but I wanted her to know that I was emotionally connected to the question I was about to ask. I rubbed my wet cheek against her nose then her cheek. Only, to feel that her cheek had been moisten by her tears. I cried harder. I felt my chest expand in a search for air, as all I could do was hold my breath to keep from weeping. She kissed my eyelid, then my forehead. Her wet lips from the dripping tears, against my forehead sent chills through my spinal cord. We sat there. We said nothing. I could barely see her eyes, as they were so filed with tears. I could barely open mine. I began to feel angry. Why is she crying? What’s so tough for her? I sat straight up. She clinched on to me, and started to speak out loud, yet so softly. “What are you doing to me, Gail?” she said with her head pressed again my left shoulder, her arms wrapped around my arm, wiping her tears on my shirt shelve. I remember the way she said my name, upset me. Sometimes the tone of her voice changes to my ears. Sometimes it’s like coming from her soul and it’s a soft angelic sound that travels through my body like blood. She continues, “I don’t know how to not love you and I’m scared. You scare me.” I sat there, like I am sitting here now. Virtually, in the same spot, I have nothing to say. I had nothing to say. Her eyes completely closed from the tears that now drip, down her chin. She ran her hand across the back of my head, before tossing it in the air, with frustration…desperation. I can’t watch her crumble. I can’t be the reason for the crumble. I wipe her tears, and I take her head and cuff it in my bicep. I have nothing to say, still. I tell her not to be scared. That I was there for her. I mean… I needed to be reassuring. I need to be supportive. Yet, I am not the one that made it such a mess. She says things but doesn’t give explanations. Just words. Statements really. She could be with him right now. I don’t know, because I don’t ask. I always assume, because she doesn’t lie. She will tell the truth rather it hurts or not. I don’t want to know, if it’s going to hurt. So, I assume the worst all the time. She is the bad guy in all my scenarios because I am way too chicken shit to ask. The past tells me that, she doesn’t hesitate to tell the truth, even when not provoked. So, if I am thinking she’s lying next to him kissing right now, though she spent all night telling me how much she loved kissing me, so be it. Much better than…well fuck that it’s not better. It’s not okay. I feel sorry for her. So I don’t need to make it any worse. I know what I want. I know how to get it, I know how to make it succeed. She has none of those answers, between the known and the unknown, so I feel sorry for her. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Because I don’t like it. I hate it, actually. I just don’t have to make it worse.

I met her dad. I was afraid of that meeting. I couldn’t really picture how it would go. She speaks so honestly and respectfully about him. I know this man’s soul from the stories she tells. It’s always out of random when she decides to tell me something so passionately, terrifically “real”. But I have never met him. This particular day, he was expecting his 6th child with his new wife. There had been some complications, so Layla was understandably nervous about it. I offered to come up to the hospital just to kind of take everyone’s mind off things. I actually just was worried. Thinking back, I don’t know why I asked. But I asked. And she said, “If you want,” I told her that I would just hang out in the waiting room, but she sent me the floor and room number. I walked in there like I belonged. Her dad was on the phone so the first 15 seconds were weird. The mother-to-be hooked up to machines, the lights out. Once he got off the phone. I stood up, I looked him dead in his eye, and I shook his hand. I said, “Hi! I’m Gail.” He said in a whisper, “Hey, Danny.” Phew. Once the handshake concluded, I could feel myself entering my body, again. Ha. Nervous doesn’t nearly explain how I felt. I was calm though, because what’s the worst that could happen. We sat down and we chatted about California. His voice was so soft but yet confident. I remember thinking, “I can hardly him, but I know exactly what he is saying,” I was paying that much attention, and you could tell he appreciated that. I am lucky that our interaction came on the cuffs of a much more pressing matter, and a joyous one. I am also lucky it was short-lived. Turns out he liked me. Said, I was respectable and seem intelligent. Layla made sure to mention, that she confirmed my intelligence. She knows how I feel about that. That makes me feel like I am a superhero, as pathetic as that sounds. She speaks with such authority in regards to him. The most important person in her life, and he thinks that we should stick together because he, “knows we will get far in life.” What bar did I set for myself? Yikes. Ha.

I joke because that’s all I want to do. I get caught up in the cheer-leading and guiding role that I forget to be a lover. I hold up her jackets, so she can slide her arms in. That’s what I do for her. She waits in front of doors, until I open it. It is my honor. I say I forget the lover role, because it’s not my role. It belongs to someone else. Best I know. We don’t talk about it remember. But I will say, that pretty blue-eyed mothefucker’s picture is still the back ground of her phone. My skin crawls a bit when I see it. I want to read those messages so bad. Fly on the wall, wouldn’t even please me. I want so desperately to know what they talk about. My existence to him, probably stops short of the touching, kissing, and sleep fucking. As does his. All I can say is it must be a nightmare to juggle those feelings and all I can do is not make it worst by making her talk about things she isn’t ready to talk about. How chivalrous of me? I figure the worst has already happened. I feel less sad and more annoyed by the departures and unknowns. It’s beginning to disgust me. I can push for the answers that I, either will have earned by force, or to my displeasure. So, I do nothing. I am still me. I am still planning our future. I am still hoping. I hate it. But a watched pot doesn’t boil… Or something like that.

“Layla”

I read a quote just now that says, “I look at you and see the rest of my life right before my eyes.” I saw that quote and was immediately inspired. I feel like I’m in love a lot and that I could always find a way to see this quote and it mean something to me. But the different is. I can see this quote and think of Layla, and I can see no one else standing in her place. That could just be how I feel right now, but it’s important to notice that. I would hate to think that all my fears never allowed me to tell her that. I feel scared because she’s young and she doesn’t love me like I love her. And I feel scared that I have felt such devastating love before. But I have never in my life felt so much respect for someone who I wanted to change how I communicate with them. About them. I never in my life wanted to filter so much of my creative process to be in a better standing with someone. It was never important to me. I think the thing that sticks out the most is that I used the word, respect. I respect her to the point that I feel as if she is an extension of myself. And I don’t think I could use any words to express that sentiment exactly. I can only say that, the amount of respect that I hold for myself. The pride I take in every little piece of my being, the accomplished feeling I get with every task I find myself completing. That sense that everything I put my name on must reach a certain standard. A standard that far surpasses the expected outcome and also thrills and excites its audience. That unattainable level of success I put forward for myself to reach, that feeling that comes with it. That sense of knowing I am the absolute shit at the task given. That’s how I feel about Layla. I feel she is an extension of my own person. I set myself at such a high standard that, it’s hard for me to see anything else. I see her. She is this better version of me, she is this strong, demanding woman who frankly doesn’t give a flying fuck. And I stand here amazed with all my giving a shit I do, how someone just not gives a fuck. How can you not give a fuck but not be a hot fucking mess? Ask her, because I stand here in awe of her excellence. I stand here just demanding and barking trying to gain control. I feel scared and threatened when she doesn’t see my world view, as it stands, because my view of things are the correct way to see them. Yet, I can only see her. She walked into my life in the strangest sense and I wanted to shield myself, immediately. I have never put up such a guard and so fast when to comes to something as simple as a fuck. I just wasn’t about to let anything or anyone in. I gained this respect for love throughout my awfully aimed attempts to control it. I just wanted more. More than what I read about, more than what I see in the movies. I wanted my own version. As I type this, I can only see her. So I’ll save you how we met story for another time. But I didn’t plan on loving her, actually, as I do something foolishly, I was the first to say I love you. I said it in an attempt to leave the relationship. I used as a way to escape, because as it stood and often still stands she loves someone else, I knew she wouldn’t be able to say it back therefore releasing me of my obligation. I wasn’t sure if I did or did not love her. But I knew it would work. For some reason, I choose love instead of like a lot. I don’t know. She came to my house this night in a fit of emotions. She didn’t want to lose me and she didn’t want to say she loved me, as it would be a betrayal of her love to another. She came to be in tears with the fear of said betrayal running down her face. I was shocked. I was in that moment completely speechless. I knew that my words of love and desire had action behind them, but was unaware of someone actually being affected. And to have such gust behind that action, shocking. I sat there with no words to justify any other words that were spoken already. I just demanded. While I spent my time searching for the reasons, she spent that time searching for existence. She sat there and everything I was saying, hit her earlobe and her ear canal. The words travelled down her spine and connected to another level in her conscious. I watched, as she swallowed her tears with realization. She said to me this day that she hadn’t up until then realized that feelings could be attached. She hadn’t considered anything other than the pure attraction she felt for me. She hadn’t even thought about love. I pushed nonetheless, I pushed her to return the emotions or to get out of my life. After all that was the goal, I thought. She didn’t say much but sat there eating every word she would use, if only she could. I asked her, “Why are you crying?” she sat there with nothing to say. Just silence and tears. I asked again, and she mumbled to herself with her head held down and her eyes wide open. I demanded she speak up, she said nothing. I got off my demanding horse and walked over to her on the edge of her seat, I wrapped my arms around her, and I began to get sad. I didn’t want to cry but she sat there in such sadness for what felt like hours, I had to muster up a tear. I asked her now with my water based eyes, “Why are you crying?” she looks up at me and says, “Because I love you.” Right then I felt complete sadness, complete and utter vulnerability. Something I have never felt before. Something I haven’t felt before then. I just broke down in tears. We stood there for a moment, in tears, in complete and utter shock of how some actions and few words could turn into so much more. From that moment, I just felt this responsibility not to let her down.