Started as something else, ended up being abt love (obviously)
Can a person stop a wave?
Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about destiny. I wonder how many of my choices are mine, how many of them are calls by the universe to put me in contact with certain people, certain images, at predetermined times within my life.
The other day I was walking off the train, and three people hopped over the barrier evading the fare, exactly in sync. It felt like a moment of life imitating art--something ridiculous turned into something beautiful.
It's been difficult lately, to keep separate myself from the hurt that comes from being sexualized. Sometimes when I blink my eyes, it feels like hugging you, because an image, a memory, runs across my vision, as if I'm not in my moment, but rather, a bit in the past. Just for a second, and then it's gone.
Sometimes people feel as natural as breathing. Is life a series of finding people like this, and hoping to keep track of them?
It's difficult, at times, to let go of things without squeezing them for lessons. It can be hard to tell which people are incompatible with your happiness, when you're used to emphasizing everyone's humanity. Has everyone had a moment of sonder, that strange little feeling where you realize that everyone around you has felt hurt, perhaps at the same time as you?
I don't want to have written about you as much as I have. I don't want to feel my heart beat clearly against my chest cavity when I think of sitting next to you on a plane, your hand in mine. I don't want to think of the ways I felt okay with life ending at certain moments, because nothing felt safer than your warmth. But I do. I always do. I know all the ways you weren't right for me, and I don't even love you anymore, I know that. You are not who you were when you were with me. That's okay, because I am not who I was when I was with you. When we were together, for every moment I felt love, I felt doubt. I think that was important for how it suggested a lack of sustainability. You and I would never have lasted very long. I know that now. But I don't want to cheapen what we had. We stood up for each other, we loved each other, fiercely. We both had moments of swallowing our pride, we had moments of sweetness, of care, of recognition. I wish I had loved myself the way I loved you. I won't blame myself for the wreckage of our relationship, but what hurts the most now is to think of the ways I hated myself for how I wasn't good enough. You couldn't love me enough to cancel out all the ways I felt unloveable.
I still don't think that you are a bad person. I think I am a better person without you, and I am certainly a better person for having gone through our relationship and especially for having gone through our breakup.
Is it up to a person to stop a wave? Is it up to them to recognize that a wave is coming, before it is too late? Is it ever too late? I hope that you've found peace. I've started to find it, slowly. I think part of that is realizing that I would prefer to never see you again.
Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about destiny. I wonder how many of my choices are mine, how many of them are calls by the universe to put me in contact with certain people, certain images, at predetermined times within my life.
The other day I was walking off the train, and three people hopped over the barrier evading the fare, exactly in sync. It felt like a moment of life imitating art--something ridiculous turned into something beautiful.
It's been difficult lately, to keep separate myself from the hurt that comes from being sexualized. Sometimes when I blink my eyes, it feels like hugging you, because an image, a memory, runs across my vision, as if I'm not in my moment, but rather, a bit in the past. Just for a second, and then it's gone.
Sometimes people feel as natural as breathing. Is life a series of finding people like this, and hoping to keep track of them?
It's difficult, at times, to let go of things without squeezing them for lessons. It can be hard to tell which people are incompatible with your happiness, when you're used to emphasizing everyone's humanity. Has everyone had a moment of sonder, that strange little feeling where you realize that everyone around you has felt hurt, perhaps at the same time as you?
I don't want to have written about you as much as I have. I don't want to feel my heart beat clearly against my chest cavity when I think of sitting next to you on a plane, your hand in mine. I don't want to think of the ways I felt okay with life ending at certain moments, because nothing felt safer than your warmth. But I do. I always do. I know all the ways you weren't right for me, and I don't even love you anymore, I know that. You are not who you were when you were with me. That's okay, because I am not who I was when I was with you. When we were together, for every moment I felt love, I felt doubt. I think that was important for how it suggested a lack of sustainability. You and I would never have lasted very long. I know that now. But I don't want to cheapen what we had. We stood up for each other, we loved each other, fiercely. We both had moments of swallowing our pride, we had moments of sweetness, of care, of recognition. I wish I had loved myself the way I loved you. I won't blame myself for the wreckage of our relationship, but what hurts the most now is to think of the ways I hated myself for how I wasn't good enough. You couldn't love me enough to cancel out all the ways I felt unloveable.
I still don't think that you are a bad person. I think I am a better person without you, and I am certainly a better person for having gone through our relationship and especially for having gone through our breakup.
Is it up to a person to stop a wave? Is it up to them to recognize that a wave is coming, before it is too late? Is it ever too late? I hope that you've found peace. I've started to find it, slowly. I think part of that is realizing that I would prefer to never see you again.
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