From The Heart: Honey-Bee

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Dearest Honey-Bee,

Things have been less than ideal the last couple of years.

If I had been aware of the consequences, I would have done things differently. I feel alone, lost, and sometimes even scared. Not scared for what could and is happening to me, more fear of what might happen to you. I have the worst remorse over leaving you; I’ve never felt so separated.

I remember when we first met like it was yesterday: you were the brash, thin-as-a-stick, gal across the hall and you annoyed the living daylights out of me. In some ways, you’ve carried that tradition on to this very day. You were loud, judgemental, and opinionated. You hated me, because I’d picked up a twang during my recent trip down South. I’d have sooner drowned you than spent 5 minutes with you those first couple of days. Funny how does feelings can still resurface, right? Little did either of us know, a real adventure was brewing…

I tried to date your sister
You came to work for me
You pushed my buttons
I pushed yours right back

We hugged
We kissed
We fought
We loved

Even during the most heated, terrible times, our lives continued to intertwine. 

We fought so hard one night, you pulled a knife on me. You threatened me with violence; I threatened you with leaving. There would be other close calls and we survived them all. Whatever forces had brought us together, they wanted to make sure that we could never truly be split apart. Beyond anger, apart from romance, we were always friends first; the very best no matter what anyone else would attempt to say.

It’s never been easy.

Over these last two years, you’ve been so distant. Not just physically, that part of the equation is too obvious. It’s been a struggle staying in touch. We don’t communicate like we used to. You’re never available and fail to hold your promises. You’ve held me at far more than arm’s length, emotionally. More like the span of an albatross’ wings, which suits our scenario even better since, I feel that is what my loneliness has become: my burden of penance for moving away.

In an imperfect world though, our friendship will never be out of place.

Classic case of round hole, square peg. Countless people told us it was futile, but we kept plugging away until, somehow, we wore down the edges enough to fit. We both took our turns at inopportune times to be more, to fulfill the role of companion, each crashing and burning in different ways. I guess there was always something more intended over that rainbow for us.

Friends eternal.

Pooh and Piglet.

I’ll never love anybody in the same manner. They broke the mould when they made you, and I am the luckiest boy in the solar system to have shared the kind of memories we’ve made together. Right now they feel far away, but I know there will be many more on the horizon.

I love you to Pluto and back. (yep, even if it’s no longer a planet, it’s worth the trip.)

-DFP-

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Triggers

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A whole new day
Begins with
Commotion
I never woke
Katy
She cried
It’s just
Common sense

Static’s on the
Radio
All night long
I never made
It home
I ran out of
Steam
Two feet from
The doorstep

Nobody’s putting
A foot to
The peddle
I’m tired
Of writing things
That make sense 

I didn’t say
I wanted to kill myself
Just that
I wanted to
Die
It’s just
Common sense
Katy
She kept on
Crying

————♦————

“The present changes the past. Looking back you do not find what you left behind.”

I wish I could be, an emotional-history revisionist.

They say that the victors of war, are the ones who write history. In love, are there really any winners if it ends in heartbreak? I suppose it’s those who do the leaving. While they may come away scarred, ultimately they get the privilege of causing the most damage.

They get to make the clean break.
They get to hold the answers, withholding them if they see fit.
They get to dictate future interaction, or lack thereof.

Of course, they also don’t have to live with the same sentimentality day to day. When you make the decision to break off a relationship, it immediately dulls any nostalgia that can be traced back to certain things. Your time is over with that particular connection, therefore severing the need for emotional attachment to places or objects. Those who choose to end things, don’t have to live with: seeing the lamp-post you were leaning against, when I first saw your beautiful smile; or passing by restaurant we had our first dinner date.

Nor do they still struggle with rushing for the Richmond-Brighouse train vs. The YVR Airport one. Not that it has ever made a difference to my commute home; it just always felt cozier in my heart to take YOUR train.

Those triggers are just the ones trained on me daily; they open up much deeper wounds. Thoughts upon thoughts that never seem to cease. Scars that re-open every time I think of:

Our first hug (vice grip tight – I still feel it to this day)
How you were almost always quicker to text first after a date (unless I cheated)
The way you hissed your S’s for emphasis (aww yisss)
Our first kiss on the train platform (one on the nose)
The first time I saw you dance (so beautiful and carefree)
How even though you hate asparagus, you still ate it when I made it
How my hand fit so beautifully into the crook of your back (and how safe it felt)
How a popsicle would please you more than a fancy dinner (Rockets of course)
How Batman will forever be tied to you (Bane voices on the bus)
How I’ll never be able to watch Game of Thrones, no matter how hard I try (I’ll just hear your voice mocking: “Khaleesi” and “Not without my Dragons”)
The way your eyes lit up when discussing your Master’s Thesis

I could go on.

I carry these thoughts day after day after day. I didn’t get to decide I stopped loving you. I didn’t even get to hear when and why you stopped loving me. Armed with that hurt, I could re-write you to all my friends, as a cold, uncaring, horrible wench. The problem with that is, I’ve never been a very good fiction writer.

I didn’t get to make the clean break you did. There is only one way I could have that kind of ending.

Let it be known to history that:

I will always remember you as sweet and kind. Patient to a fault with my weird idiosyncrasies. Beautiful in every way. From your sparkling eyes, bright joyful smile, the sweet slow cadence of your voice, crazy hair, loving heart, and giving soul. In our short time together, I feel like I have enough memories to fill a lifetime…so even though I still lie awake, sleepless almost every single night, I’ll always have nothing but tender thoughts and love for you in my heart.

-DFP-

Eggshells

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I’m finally ready to admit I’m angry.

For the last two years I’ve been resisting,
I’ve denied
I’ve pushed it down so deep, that it’s now split through
Me.

This was going to be a letter about how I was ready to be the bigger man.
To admit that I was angry at myself, not at
You.
To take the high road: Where I let you carry the burden.
Where I admit that I let this slide into the abyss as much as you did.

I’m not ready for that.

I’m angry.
At You.
I’m angry at
ONLY You.


For all the broken promises.
For the false sense of hope.
For the time
after time
after time
after time

The time after time that I was lead to believe there was something to be salvaged, in this
Wreck.

It’s eggshells
Always eggshells
Every single time we talk because
You don’t want to hear about how you’ve given up.
And you can’t piece it back together,
Piece after
Piece after
Piece after
Piece
They’ve all been stepped on so many times.

Your audacity is only matched by:
Your resolve.
Your resolve to leave,
Leave me
Leave me hanging
Leave things in disrepair

And I
I can’t deny my feelings
Regret
Shame
Love

Love I’ve found
In the arms of someone who can
Hold me tight.
Tight and strong.
Stronger than
YOU are.

Stronger than your stubbornness
Stronger than your will to carry
Carry the burden of
Our combined failure.

 

DFP