i keep thinking that i know what i’m doing. that my life is okay. that sometimes i have hard days. sometimes i have good days. but maybe it’s just all a mess, incoherent and drunk.
and i’m too young to be acting like this. i’m too old to be acting like this.
i’m in between everything, flitting between thoughts through the minds of people who will forget me in a few days. and i am falling asleep, encapsulated by nothingness and talking and words that don’t hold meaning and boys that don’t care and girls that don’t care and parents who care too much and my heart, which is in between.
i am unsteady and uncertain and just looking for a warm embrace that’s more then sex. and i don’t want to be searching my entire life for that end all be all and that’s not what i want, because my feet move faster then my mind, my lips move faster then my words.
just be my centre, be some sort of reason that will help me get up in the morning, that will help me quit smoking, help me quit drinking, help me quit flirting.
but i need to be strong enough, need to not have a person to be my reason for all these things. but i feel so weak and so empty and i can’t carry the world on my shoulders anymore.
i began missing you as soon as i walked out of the station. i missed holding your face, sweaty from humidity and tight subway walls, kissing you with goodbye on our tongues and aching in our guts. i miss your sigh as you deepened the kiss, knowing it was probably the last time i’d feel your lips.
we walked the streets, not knowing where we were going, but treasuring the moments out arms rubbed against each other. i prayed for green lights and cars buzzing by because it meant we could stand still for a moment, facing each other. and your hands would rest on my shoulders and i’d kiss the dip above your collar bone, taste the saltiness of your skin.
and we sat outside in the backyard, eating the pint of ice cream you bought, feeling the metal spoon against my teeth, the melting ice cream in my mouth. and i watched your lowered eyes, focused on delving deeper and finding caramel and vanilla. and when it was gone, we sat the silverware aside and tossed the container to the other side of the table. and i reached over, grabbed your collar, and pulled your mouth close, tasted the coldness against me. i sat on your lap and you rested your forehead on my shoulder, calculated breathing, soft sighs.
“are you tired?” i asked.
“no.”
“you seem tired.”
“no, just enjoying the calm.”
and “what are you thinking?” i asked.
“i don’t know. i’m just lost.”
and i listen to your voice move up and down. and i feel your lips form these words against my skin. i want nothing more than to keep you safe in my bed. want to keep you drunk, buy you drugs, live your life with you.
i want you to stay. i want to watch you grow. i want to see you alive in this city and experience it with you.
i just keep thinking of you. when you got so mad. how one moment you were holding yourself up above me, fingers trailing, and the next you pushed yourself next to me, looking up at the ceiling, while i bit my lip and muttered ‘i’m sorry.’
and i am. i shouldn’t have lied. it didn’t seem like such a big deal but i realise that no matter what i lie about, it’s still a lie, and you can’t stand dishonesty.
“listen. i’m sorry i left you at the train station. but i never lied to you. i’ve been honest always.”
you have.
i keep thinking of how i grabbed my things.
“so you’re just going to leave?”
“what else am i supposed to do? sit here while you don’t talk to me?”
how you followed me out the building and down the street.
“this is why it worries me that you won’t look me in the eyes ever.”
but you didn’t trust me before, before this little lie. you never trusted me. and you had good reason. i’m a liar, i’m a cheat. i kiss boys with alcohol on my tongue and then go out with someone else the next night. don’t know how to stop. don’t really want to.
but i love you. and even though i let him fuck me in the bathroom, i still wanted you to be my boyfriend. i’ve never met someone and wanted to break up with you so i could date them. i still want to come home to you at night.
and before i let that lie slip, you’d talked about how maybe you were in love with me. about how we’re going to have a living room someday, in our own apartment.
and i’m sorry. and tomorrow you’ll sit across from me and i’ll have to promise to try to be better, try to be honest, try to be more open.
because i don’t like myself and i’m afraid of showing you all my parts, because i don’t want you to find something about me you don’t like, and leave.
because if you left, i don’t know what my life would be. and that scares me. when did i ever rely on anyone like that?
i’m sorry. that’s all i know how to say anymore.
kissing boys on subway platforms. saying goodbye. watching your frame disappear as you seek out the g train to take you back to the house. and i’m moving towards him, closer to conversations and frustrations. we walked all night and my heel is bleeding. tennis shoe rubbing against my skin. we walked all night and made it across the brooklyn bridge. and you held my hand. so foreign it is to hold the hand of someone who is temporary. you are fleeting. “i’m only a traveler,” you whispered and i kissed you, as if to tell you “so am i.” i embraced the city with my california eyes and wanted to sob because i was finally home. i don’t have a bed but i have a city. i have a city. and you felt the power of the illuminated skyline, too, and said you’d live here, one day you’d live here. and i jumped up and down and said “yes yes yes”. and we can be friends forever.
but last night you walked away, seeking out the g train. and i moved closer to him. and he kissed me with venom and i kissed him with anger. and i remembered kissing you with gentle sweeps of my tongue.
and you are only a traveler. and we’re moving in opposite directions. how lovely we met in the middle for a moment.
shower sex in a random hostel. my skin was dripping but i wasn’t wet. he wasn’t you, never you. i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry.
i’m scared of
you
pumping thru my veins
red
and
blue.
i am plagued with doubt. even the things i held so firmly to now seem foreign and false.
my life was so average until you came around.
i’ve stopped eating properly again.
