take yourself home
When I was told I would cry almost every day before and after leaving, I thought my best friend was exaggerating. I should have known better and listened to my Virgo counterpart, but at the same time, no one can learn before falling headfirst to find out for themselves, right?
I'm trying to stop using other people's lyrics, verses, excerpts, or any combination of words that aren't mine to express how I'm feeling. It's incredibly hard to do so when you live in a world where almost everything has been said and done, no? I wish it were enough to have other people's words arranged meticulously so they tell the story of my feelings, spilled out in a digital form. Sadly for me, and for the other three blog readers I have, I find myself writing once again. I feel so much, yet I cannot type it all.
I have been thinking about matter. How it simply is, and how it never goes away; it infinitely transforms into new things as time passes. I believe humans, in some way, and life itself as we experience it, can have those qualities over time. Egyptians used to embalm and mummify their loved ones, and there is always a constant surge of books, paintings, and songs so that feelings can be immortalized over time, even when their authors are long gone. I strive to be like matter, always transforming so I never remain still. The problem with never staying still is that you're always moving. And I don't need to write much more on that, do I?
Like matter, I am transforming. I am adapting to my new surroundings and trying my best to keep up with these challenging and changing times. I am both nostalgic, happy, and guilty. I am so many things at once that sometimes I cannot feel any of them. Sometimes I'm just a combination of atoms and molecules that takes the shape of its container, like water. Other times, like this instant, I am.
I wish I could immortalize moments, people, and experiences. The wonderful memories of my life back home mesh together in a film reel I rewatch before falling asleep. I see my loved ones in people I meet, murals I see, food I eat- you name it. How lucky am I to carry all those whom I loved with me? I'd consider myself fortunate, at the very least. How does one navigate a new chapter teetering between letting go of what ended and welcoming the new things that are coming? How does one honor those that remain at a distance while making space for those around you? How does one move on without letting go?
I wish I knew. And I also wish this one person were here to hold my hand through it, but that doesn't happen. It stings, like the very first day of winter when the temperature drops and the cold air hits your face. It hurts, and it lingers like a bruise that won't go away. It's upsetting and frustrating. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if the roles were reversed; would I remain to hold their hand? Or would I drop it to protect myself? In the end, would I choose myself at others' expense?
Like a dog, loyal to the very end and most of the time an optimistic being, I sit, and I wait for things to change. I sit, and I wait for a ball being thrown my way that never leaves the owner's hand. I sit and take everything that comes my way, letting it pass through me. It's tiring to sit and take things you know you don't deserve. Unlike a dog, I do know better. I find myself lying in my bed, questioning my decisions. I question all I've done and where all these feelings come from. I question why parts of my life can't exist with her, and at what cost. I question if she'll ever call back, or if she will keep putting walls between us for the sake of protecting feelings I can't quite understand yet. I question why I allow this and whether she notices the damage she's done. I wonder if she's pushing me to the side, neglecting me because she feels that way. And like the dog I am, I sit, and I let it happen. I don't beg, I don't whine, and I don't find it in me to confront her further.
If there is nothing to address, why is the distance between us growing with each day that passes? If everything is fine, why can't I live without feeling guilty? If she wants to try, why does it feel like there is nothing to try for? Why does it feel like we already gave up? Why do I keep pledging my loyalty to a cause that does not favor me? Why am I waiting for things to change when I've been shown the opposite? Why do I wait for someone who's not coming home? I sit and wait for the answers to appear in my head. I have been waiting for a long time.
Part of me wonders if I deserve the cold shoulder, being pushed aside, forcefully fading into the background. I wonder what this is for and when it will end. What if it doesn't end? Do I cave in, or do I refuse it? Is this her making me step up to cut a cord that should've been cut a long time ago? Is it finally time to accept that I will be reduced to repeating the same cycle? Is it time to move on and walk away? I think I'm getting close to the point where I have to accept it; maybe it's time to learn how to move on and let go. I'd hoped for an endless conversation, but I think it's time to stay silent for a while. It doesn't feel good not to feel wanted, to be pushed aside as retaliation. It absolutely blows that someone who's loved me so deeply can take it away just because. I wish I had it in me to do the same. I know better, though, than to play that game.
This is a war I don't feel like winning, nor questioning, or even being an active participant in. There's no point to that. I wish there would be, though. All I saw before has faded into a supercut of things that won't happen. I am ashamed to admit I have lost faith in what once was, in what we once were. The guilt sometimes eats me alive. I feel like a hypocrite even thinking of daring to step back into that church we built. I can't face the music, and I can't see what's left for me to keep. I wonder if my eyes will sting at the sight of her, if my body collapses before I even reach the altar. How will this pass me by? How can I pretend that the grief of her loss doesn't haunt me still?