Anvrill
Senior Member
since 2002-06-21
Posts 710
in the interzone now
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0
posted
2002-06-27
11:05 AM
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Warning: Immensely long.
Forgive me for daring to start this, to even think this. Forgive me for giving in to this, to begin to doubt this. Forgive me for being so alone, to be able to still love you.
People drift and lives change, but you don't know how much you changed me. You'll never know how much you moved me. You don't want to know that when you were there I smiled more than ever before, and when you were gone I gave into the old, bitter tears.
We're born alone except in rare cases, so it must be in human nature to yearn the loneliness to end, but it's also in some of us to push the people away that remind us in the slightest of that lonely beginning. We're born alone except in rare cases, and I saw the yearning in your eyes. You'll never know how far I saw into those deep green eyes.
There's a consumption in me that eats things up slowly. You didn't know why I was so far away, and you'll never know why I came so close. You didn't know I was crying on the phone and you'll never know that I knew then that it had to end.
I begged you not to go. It was a weekend trip, a simple little band trip, it was so small, but I couldn't bear to let you leave. You didn't know how much it hurt to hold onto you for the first time, and how much I didn't want to let you go. You'll never know how much it hurt to hug you that last time and feel that you were the one who didn't want to let go. You'll never know I waited and waited for you to call and I cried at your pictures, those beautiful pictures, that caught moments and feelings of your innate greenness, your soft happiness, and your consuming sadness.
You didn't know I was crying on the phone. You'll never know that I knew in that moment, in that moment, weeks after you burned your own image, weeks after you signed your soul to me, weeks after we made a pact in blood I knew in that moment when you were shamed by your one fault (and I saw through that your shame in your other faults), I knew in that one moment that it could only fall farther from there.
You didn't know I skipped bio for you and waited and waited for you to come. You didn't know we'd go get ice cream and talk for hours and I'd confess my love and things would be perfect. You'll never know how badly it shattered me that when you came late you were barely even there. You'll never know how hard I was sobbing up on that hill alone, when you were too afraid to approach. You'll never know the 55 shattered dreams and saviors and beautiful little silver discs were for you, for the fact that I was grounded for a month, a month away from you coming home with me every other night. A month away from us laughing psychotically as we squished computer bunnies, and sat quietly with haunted eyes listening to True Goth.
I'll never know why you didn't reach out; maybe it was against your pride. I know if I could have, I would have never left your side. I would have been with you and stayed with you and fought your demons at your side. I would have loved you and kept you as safe as I could, to stay forever by your side. If I had had that month of after-schools, I would have used them to heal you. Instead, I lost you.
You don't know how much I've cried because you swore on your life you'd call. You haven't. You won't. You don't know I almost burned my room down (and the house with it) because everywhere I turn, there's a piece of you. The flag for The Wall, which you reverently hung in your room with the two posters, even though there wasn’t room and you didn't own the CD. The Sobé caps, especially Mr. Green, that you had glued to your locker. The home-made-store-bought scrapbook with our rants and our promise: You die, I die, she dies, he dies.
If I die, will you die?
There's the choker that said 'harsh' that I never would have worn if you didn't doubt I'd wear it. There are the countless pictures, the True Goth CDs, the safety pins and the friendship-knife, the first story I shared with you; the first time you said you were scared that we were so alike. The silence .... all the silence. You don't know how much silence kills me, and you won't know no matter how often I tell you. Silence is the enemy. A week of silence brought my best friend's death. A week of silence brought your removal. In a week of silence you found the satisfying shallowness of the freak-jock world.
You didn't know I loved you before your second girlfriend. You probably still don't know how I feel. I've told you; indirectly, but you're smart. And you're hurt. You don't know how much I want to take that away. You don't know that I wouldn't put my sorrow into your world, because I was never as happy as in those shadowed midnight moments when your green eyes and green hair flashed in the moonlight, and you screamed like a god and thrust the mighty sword (umbrella) into the ground (denting the ground) and posed like some sort of new-century Knight; too distinguished to be a mercenary, and too alive to be a king. You didn't know how much I wanted to kiss you when I studied the line of your cheek, driving myself crazy trying to think what animal you reminded me of. You didn't know I held my hand back so I wouldn't trace that fragile line with my long nails, so I wouldn't trace the line of your lips and fall to my knees begging you to understand. Instead, we talked about cloaks and swords and the fact that you were a weasel and he was a wolf.
But you're the wolf. You're the majestic creature standing strong and alone in the moonlight, a pack animal too afraid to stay with the others but too proud to howl your grief; instead, it's in defiance. Defiance against your pain and the injustice, the fact that you had to remake yourself, that you couldn't be who you were in the redneck, back-town North. I was born in the same North, and you don't know that I'm convinced that's what gave us both the wolf's blood; to escape that place and become unique, become something that could never survive with the others of the North; too strong to fit the closed-minded pack, and too scared to be alone.
You don't know how much I prayed you would cry when you told me you couldn't escape the past; instead, I got angry because you thought I couldn't understand. You have your mistakes and I have mine. You have your tragedies and I have mine. We have both bled to escape our pains, and you didn't know the only reason I became friends with you was because you showed me the safety pin trick; the one where you pushed it into your arm and took it out without bleeding. The one where you put it in again, twisted it around, then got blood all over the floor. You don't know I still use that safety pin to hold the flap on the shoulder of my trench coat.
You didn't know I started taking pills so I could be happy for you. I wanted to be the strong one. I could have been the strong one. I wanted to see you cry and feel that your desperate embrace was getting something from me. Your hugs were so hungry. You would hold on forever, and it was like I was losing myself in peace. We gained so much from each other. I don't know; we could've gained more.
You don't know I still wait for you to call. You don't know I'd give anything for you to call. You don't know it's taken me years to build up to this needing with anyone else, and it took me months to feel it for you. You don't even know what I feel. You'll never know what I feel. You'll never heal.
I don't know why I couldn't be part of your world. I don't know why I got pushed away when you needed the most. I don't know why the second I was ready to take control, you had run for safety. You'd run for cover. I don't know why I thought you were an ugly little new-prep-friend of the too-bubbly-girl, then you became the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, ever watched.
I started taking pictures because I wanted to take them of you. I catch perfect moments on the camera if you're standing there. Perfect growling-smiles, perfect forced egotism, perfect stillness and half-thoughts. You don't know you're so beautiful it's made me cry. You don't know that the last two batches of pics I brought home reduced me to a quivering heap, curled up in the corner of my bed, clawing at the bunched up quilts to try to get away from what I was feeling inside me, because no one should be worth it. No love should be worth this.
You might know I want to hate you. You might know I can't call you, that if I did and heard your voice, I would burst into tears and hang up again. You don't know I've never felt so weak and defeated. You don't know how much you've destroyed me.
You don't know how much you're everything I ever dreamed, through your problems more than anything. I could never go for a perfect guy. I need the desperation, I need the anger, I need the understanding more than anything, and yours was so intense that it scared you away. I need to share music, to share the mystery of things I believe in that can't be real. You didn't know when I watched you practicing letting a weight spin without your conscious thought, I almost collapsed and swore my eternal love. You didn't know that when you said you'd asked it if any of your friends would kill themselves, I wanted to tell you 'never' so long as you stayed in that half sad, half amused moment forever.
I want to be standing in the cool March night, with my heavy trench coat billowing out behind me like I'd walked straight into a movie, with you laughing and saying that it really CAN be done. I want to grab your hand before you put the lighter to your picture, before you burn your past and let it all happen. I want to be sitting in that McDonald's, surrounded by people that I didn't know were there.
I never wanted to lose what I knew I'd never have. You don't know how much you hurt me. You'll never know how much you hurt me, because I just can't tell you. I want to burn everything you ever touched, but I'm so afraid to lose the scent of you that still clings to two of my shirts, after so many months and so many times through the washing machine. You don't know my suspended in dusk shirt is now my favorite because it looked so perfect on you, and it seems to forever smell like you.
The last time I saw you (the last time I'll ever?) you told me my boyfriend needed to gain more confidence. You don't know I'm the one who needs to do that. I need to go back in time, and take advantage of when I was studying your fragile cheekbone; when I circled you endlessly in a swivel chair; when I let your pendant move around your aura while you were lying on the ground and I was kneeling beside you, holding the black string above your face; when I grabbed that same dragon pendant at the bus stop and I pulled you so close, then only hugged you fiercely and had to let go. I should have taken the moments to be daring and kiss you, to tell you without words, but I never could. Your green eyes haunt me. They've dulled since then, becoming gray, reflecting the fading blue of your hair, but I'll always see them as green. I'll always see you as green.
Maybe I was right in calling you God, because you gave me faith in life, for at least a little bit. I'll move on, and I have my new happy thoughts, but I'll always be haunted and it will be years before I've cried myself out over you. And you'll never know.
Not only has he turned 20, his daughter has turned 1, and it's been a half year since last I saw him. So far as I know, he's never seen his daughter... It was three months ago that I was convinced I was over him. Apparently never.
This was written two years ago.
"Sooner or later, they'll never grow up." -Jim Steinman (unreleased and almost completely unheard, but hey)
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bsquirrel
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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1
posted
2002-06-27
10:37 PM
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Strangely, as I was reading this, Bowie was singing "The Pretty Things Are Going to Hell." So maybe he knows something we don't?
Don't backtread into th' past, k? It's painful and jus' hurts you. I finally let go of Heidi, 'cause if I didn't, I never would've built enough of myself back t' be with you.
I love you so much, Lori-Anne.
MikhailThese smiling eyes are just a mirror for the sun. -RHCP
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Anvrill
Senior Member
since 2002-06-21
Posts 710
in the interzone now
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2
posted
2002-06-27
10:38 PM
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Yeh, but it's been a lot longer since Heidi than it's been since Harrison. :P I'm still takin' slow steps."Sooner or later, they'll never grow up." -Jim Steinman (unreleased and almost completely unheard, but hey)
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