It’s been close to almost a year since I found myself writing about what my old heart used to beat to, my heart, body, mind and soul has long since then experienced the closure and gratification it longed for months on end. I shared these feelings on a different blog, but I want to put them all together here so I can have all my collection of writings in one place. I can look back on these now and appreciate every emotion evoked, and feel grateful that time period my life inspired me to write in ways I never could have before. That unmistakable truth that heartbreak leads to some of the most profound and meaningful pieces of work has proved most evident during that time period of my life. Who knew I could now say I am more than grateful that I had a first love years ago that came to end and created almost a small series of my heart molding itself back to place after it broke, transcending it into writing that I’m really proud of today. It’s interesting to see how I grew from the first entry all the way until the end, and to the person I find myself to be now because of it.
August 28th, 2013
A Teenage Heart
I remember the first time my words made you cry
I don’t think you realized how much you meant to a girl with a teenage heart,
after you felt those words sink into yours.
You would tell me you loved me by interrupting me in mid sentence,
I’d tell you I loved you by letting you trace the soles of my back with that same mouth that robed me of my thoughts.
You’d tell me you loved me by showering me with a monthly abundance of flowers,
I’d tell you I loved you by not letting them wilt until the last page of every book I read.
You’d tell me you loved me by the strokes of your thumb with mine as we drove through the music that tuned our souls,
I’d tell you I loved you by whispering the lyrics every time you stole a glance.
I’ll admit I wasn’t that great at telling you I loved you in the fashion you did,
but you could taste my thoughts,
see through the text I read
and feel the lyrics I sang.
I brushed the tears off your grinning face that day knowing you finally inhaled the words from my letter that let you know how much you truly meant to a teenage heart.
When I Think of You
My remembrance of you isn’t what you may think.
When I think of you there is approximately over 17,520 hours of moments that attempt to flood into my thoughts and compete to stand as the image of what once was. When I think of you, the times we sat on the back of my dad’s car kissing and teasing each other until neither of us could take it anymore isn’t the triumphant memory. When I think of you, the moment I saw you hold your cousin’s baby and smile as it took its’ tiny breaths comfortably in your arms also isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. When I think of you, the day of many that we argued and I’d demand to be left alone and you finally did by turning the car around and taking me home isn’t the one to steal the show. When I think of you, and the countless songs we heard in your car together creating a significant memory to remind us of each other and all the places we went are also not the sounds I remember the most. When I think of you, and all the nights I’d force you to stay to sleep with me despite setting an alarm two hours into our slumber is getting closer to the memory that I hold so dear. When I think of you, the first image that pushes it’s way through the rest is the morning after your 17th birthday. It was my first night getting to sleep in your arms. That morning, I woke up long before you and I remember the sight of your face as vividly as I remember the sound of your breaths. Your light brown hair was long, it was starting to curl at the ends, and your soft lips were slightly parted as you dreamt. I rolled to my side and brushed my fingers against your cheeks. I can’t remember how long I stared and took you in like that. I remember feeling so lucky to have you, the boy I day dreamed about for a full semester without a single word to. You looked so humble, endearing and beautiful. I knew at that moment as I stole a kiss while you slept that I wanted the chance to lock your mouth with mine every morning like that for the rest of my life. You woke up soon after, and that smirk I always craved to see fulfilled enough happiness inside of me to last a lifetime. You entranced everything I had to offer into your blue eyes with golden hues I found to signify all the different pieces that made me fall for you. So when I think of you, I think of you from that morning. The morning I fell in love with you. You can imagine how waking up can be a little hard for me sometimes without you. I awake and still sometimes reach out to the other side of the empty bed to feel your skin that was always warm no matter the season. But my hand falls to the cold sheets, and although you are no longer mine, I still feel lucky to remember that morning above the rest of the memories that flood into my heart when I think of you.
Shades of Blue
Sometimes it’s easy to classify people, like hopeless romantics and cynics, believers and skeptics, dreamers and realists, to make sense of them and ourselves. But I think the truth is we all lie a little in-between the ultimatums. We may lean more to one side than the other, influencing our choices and way of life, but in the end, we do understand both sides of the coin. I think it’s both the most wondrous and frustrating feeling to try to understand the way others minds work, why they think the way they do. Would it be easier for them to see the world the way you do? I think so. I think that would solve a lot of issues among individuals, but then it wouldn’t be as fulfilling when you find someone who complements your perception of the world. I know several people who think very differently than me, and some who think almost the same, but not one soul is able to tell me if the color blue they see is the same color blue I use to describe to tint the oceans and skies. Every now and then though, you do find someone who challenges you to question if that blue hue really is just a pigment and a reflection due to certain wavelengths of visible light. These people make you absorb everything you thought you once knew in a different flavor. These people broaden even your sense of smell to scents you might have forgotten to pick up the first time around. I hope you never have to live a moment in your life where you have to live without the person that gave you a taste of their perceptions the way I’ve had to. Don’t misunderstand me, the world is just at vibrant, as entertaining to inhale as it always has been, it’s the exhaling that is lacking the pleasure that was so easily attainable once before. I concluded life was too short to regret not reaching out for the individual I wanted to share it with again, but I underestimated life and it’s plan for me. But I know that I am exactly where I need to be, studying colors and discovering new scents to inhale on my own. Maybe that’s the realist, skeptical and cynical side of me, unlike the dreamer and romanticized side of the coin; understanding that letting go of something I believed to be one of the truest things I thought I knew on earth is a step in the right direction. I don’t know if I’ll find someone else with a mind as bright as the one I found to challenge my own, to see the world in different hues with me the way we once did, the way I wanted to again. I think what I’ve come to terms with that have settled my heart and mind most at peace is, I did everything I know I could have to attain the unattainable, and while it failed; I am inevitably proud at how long and hard I believed and let my heart try for what it wanted. But I’ve discovered my role in that story has participated enough to now let life decide what, who, and most importantly, when I’m meant to share my dreams and perceptions with another. My heart is tired, it is weary, but it continues to beat. The world is mine right now, to inhale and exhale it on my own. I know what’s meant to be will be, or what’s meant to be won’t. Everyone needs their solitude to study the different shades of blue, and we can’t rely on anyone else to help us discover what needs to be found by ourselves.
Let’s Play Pretend
These past two weeks seemed like a dream. Just when I thought my heart was healing, when I thought my soul was beginning to understand itself without you, you were suddenly here in the flesh again as I drifted off into sleep. Laying in your arms again came as natural as if time hadn’t passed since we decided to stop loving each other, but it was evident, neither one of us proved successful. You weren’t over a thousand miles away anymore, you we here, in this bed I lay as I write. These past few days were probably not our smartest decisions, but I think both of us wanted to fool ourselves even for a small moment in time. Just for a few days, pretend we weren’t becoming young adults having to decide where our lives were headed and making the sacrifices we had to make, like deciding to let each other go. Just for a few days, pretend we were back in high school, sneaking you into my room after dark and catching up for hours about what ran through our minds. Just for a few days, accidentally let the word “babe” slip through and let our hands find each other again and intertwine. Just for a few days, pretend time was still and we could be together again.
I wanted to hear about your new life as much as I didn’t want to hear about your new life without me. I was just as jealous as I was happy to hear your heart was being filled by your passions and dreams more now that I wasn’t taking up space anymore. I let you trace your hands on my shoulders and back again, my favorite memory I longed for was suddenly a reality. So much of me wanted to tell you I didn’t want to pretend anymore, I didn’t want winter to end and us go back to living a life without each other. Once winter ended and we both departed back into our lives we were trying to reconstruct without each other, we would become strangers again, and I would have to remind my heart it was just pretend. I wanted to hold you just a little longer, and tell you I wanted to call you mine again forever, but I knew it was a selfish request. If I took into consideration where you saw your life planned out, I didn’t fit into the equation yet. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I ever would again, you consistently told me I shouldn’t wait, to leave my heart open for the possibility of me finding someone who could truly devote his entire heart back to me the way you were unable to, but I know you were secretly hoping I would love you until you were you again. You didn’t have to be hypocritical and try to convince me to try to move on some day, not when you were holding me against your chest. What kind of reasoning is that? If anyone was going to convince myself to think I needed to stop loving you completely, it was going to be me.
There’s still songs I can’t listen to, still perfumes I can’t force myself to wear and even places I still can’t walk into. In a month it’ll be a year since I once called you mine and didn’t need to skip songs, purchase scents that aren’t familiar and feel uncomfortable in places that echo with your laugh. When I am reminded that you exist under the same sun that I do by experiencing something I wish you were there to see, is when I still crave you. Not when I am lying awake at night alone, not when I am stressed and need someone to stroke my shoulders, and not even when I feel like no other mind can comprehend my own the way yours did. I crave you near me when I participate in something I know you’d talk for hours about the next day, when I see parts of you in other people and even in myself, and when I feel like you’re still the first person I want to call about good news and share the excitement with. It’s been almost a year; and although my heart is at ease, it will still pound at the sound of those songs you used to hum, stop when I pass by and inhale your lavender scent on a stranger, and drop to my stomach as I take in the areas you brought me to create memories of. I know we are where we are meant to be, but I can’t help but think about you and your well-being amongst every lyric that is contaminated by my past and story with you. I find that you’ll be hiding in the back of my mind for a long time, and I wonder if I’m hidden in yours. I wonder if you can bear to listen to any of the mix cd’s I gave you, feel the cold air of the night outside your house, or smell cherry blossom and not be reminded of me the way I’m easily reminded of you. I am inconceivably happy as I can rest assured you are too. But you’ve always entranced and surprised me, even right until the end when you chose to leave, so maybe I can expect the unexpected and feel confident in knowing although it’s almost been a year; you look back and wonder if we made the right choice after all, even still.
I still wonder from time to time if we were torn by the break of the night.
Thoughts of what once was fade more consistently into the darkness now, but a ray of light filled with a moment where we once shined somehow still manages to slip through. I could argue that a moment has not gone by without a thought of you that has brightened up a shadowed time of the day. There isn’t a strong enough curtain to keep the occasional remembrance of your smile, that passionate look in your eyes, the feeling of your rough hands tracing my back or the sound of your laugh out from peeking through the blinds of my mind. I’m embarrassed when I shut the window, knowing you are not struggling to lock it on the other side. I have it unlocked with the memories tapping on the frame, wondering if I’ll ever remember to close it, or find you opening it when you’ve forgotten to shield yourself from the light the way I always find myself forgetting to.
For the first time in my life, I was discovering who I was as an independent individual. You see, there is a gratitude in heartbreak, what I had started to do in order to distract my heart from yearning for him ended up awakening passions that had become dormant over the past few years. I began to paint, I began to run, I began to read, and most importantly, I began to write. I wrote more letters than I even decided to share in this memoir about my gratitude in heartbreak, most were about him, but many were also about me. What I started to realize was that writing started to become the love of my life now that he wasn’t. But now that the gates that opened the roads to my new purpose of possibilities was revealed, I wanted to discover if I was the sole holder of the key; if someone else also had the aspiration to unlock the gates with me together again, the ultimate ultimatum to my future.
That opportunity came when the beginning of Texas’s warm summer breezes rolled in, bringing him back along with it again. I knew there was one last thing I needed to do in order to complete this new chapter of self discovery in my life, and it was determining whether or not my past love evolving into a new found one was going to have a role to play in it again. It’s going to be embarrassing for me to admit, but I might as well share this last bit to the end of our story for a full understanding of why I am where I am today. On the morning of the day he and I decided to spend together downtown, grab lunch, and return to his place; I packed two different stories in my bag. I knew the second we both returned to our hometown that I was going to give not him, but us, one last opportunity. In order for me to continue the life that I believe God set out for me, I needed to figure out whether it was going to have him play a part in it. That morning, I packed two different sets of clothes, one was daytime attire and another were PJ’s, and a piece of jewelry. Depending on his answer, I would know what to pull out. Depending on our answers, would determine the rest of our life.
Looking back now, I almost regret bringing that extremely difficult ultimatum to his attention; however I knew it was necessary for myself to be able to figure out what the next steps of my life were. I couldn’t imagine a world without him in it, not as a couple, but just him as a person; the embodiment of his soul. It took an entire month of preparing myself for both possibilities, for the way the night would end. He was more than just my love, he was my dearest friend. His thoughts were the only thoughts I could listen to for hours, and still think about the next day. I was terrified of having to come to terms that one of the routes by the end of the night would include losing him as a friend, because I feared I would lose him forever, and I would never find such an enticing mind and soul again. What didn’t surprise me, was that he feared that too. I had never seen someone so conflicted in their hearts that way he was that night. I’d presented to him the most difficult choice I think he had ever had to make in your life, which was either taking on the challenge of taking on life together again, or letting each other go permanently once and for all. I had mentally prepared myself for this conversation for weeks, and I did feel guilt from the pit of my stomach for not giving him the chance to do the same. I thought I would crumble, I thought I would pull back and say “nevermind”, causing us to remain in that ever familiar limbo as friends who were still in love with each other, but that option wasn’t helping us anymore, it was preventing both of us from taking the next necessary step in our lives.
After hours, and hours of going in circles about what route to take…I knew the answer. I knew the answer before I asked the question, I knew the answer before I wiped the tears off his face, and I knew the answer as he drove me home wishing things could be simpler. As he drove me home, holding my hand tightly as if his subconscious knew it would be the last time, while I stroked his forearms and rested my head against his shoulder knowing it was. I could feel how tense he was, how frustrated he was, he didn’t have to remind me how much he wished we could just travel back to when we were younger, I already knew. He had walked me to my porch that night, like he’d done hundreds of times before, but this time it felt different. Although he asked for one more night to gather his thoughts, I should have said then he didn’t need one because I knew what conclusion would benefit us both after all. I knew since that morning, maybe he did too, maybe we were both hanging out to that small chance we’d both take the leap of faith, maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop kissing me, maybe that’s why I couldn’t stop stroking his hair, maybe that’s why he couldn’t let go, and maybe that’s why I didn’t want him to. That night, I fell asleep knowing I wouldn’t hear from him the next morning, or the next day, or plausibly ever again. I couldn’t even bring myself to tears because I knew we’d made the right decision, two hearts that knew each other from so young is extremely difficult to keep together after they’d spent so much time apart molding themselves to become what they were. God answered me that night, letting me know he wasn’t going to be a part of my life anymore, not even just as a lover, but as a friend for a long time, if ever, and that was okay.
Memories remain, even while the people change.
I’m thankful for what is stored in the catalog of the past, even while perspectives of individuals are tested over time. Everyone eventually molds into the person they were meant to be, it’s inevitable. For better or worse.
I had high hopes for you, it made letting you go only slightly less painful and bearable. As the year went on without you, I was able to let go of the fantasy I had built for us when I was sixteen. But I would be lying if I said a part of me didn’t still anticipate a plausible route of my life to end with you at the finish line. I would have admitted that several months ago, I think anyone could have suggested to you that I was still in love with a possibility because of the way I talked about you; the way I described how you once were the electricity that fueled my soul. You weren’t my first thought in the morning anymore, but you would seldom visit my dreams and cause a relapse. During those abbreviate and fleeting moments of unsought longing, I would let my heart cheat and mind wander to what was. I’d anticipate and speculate how often you thought about l how I was doing, the way I did for you. Without the remorse I used to feel when you visited my thoughts before, I could imagine you living your aspirations with contentment and a peace of mind. I even heard you had found someone else, and I was taken back by my own enthusiasm. I recollected some of your feelings from our last conversation, when you exclaimed you wanted to experience different kinds of love, which validated my excitement to hear you might have found it.
I remain thankful for everything I gave and gained out of my love for you, but the idea of bumping into you if the timing aligned in our favor in a plausible future and greeting like old time friends; has ceased and burned in a fire with the rest of my occasional yearning for what could have been. I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to find anything better to replace what was until now, believing you were a once in a lifetime star crossed lover, slowly begins to deteriorate into the smoke from the fire that exemplifies the vision of who you are now. I can still smile when I am reminded of who you were from a song that pulls an old heart string, or a lavender scent that passes me by with a swift flashback to being embraced in your arms under the sheets, but that’s where they will remain. The greatest prosperity of this awakening is looking forward to the idea that something else might actually waiting for me. I foolishly held on to the idea that I would meet a lot of temporary resonating loves until I found you again, an older and more accomplished man that achieved everything he aspired to do when he decided to chase those dreams and sacrifice us to do so.
I may not recognize who you are now, and although I have finally become dispassionate to everything regarding you; I can’t prevent myself from still occasionally taking a glance into the night sky that remains unchanged from the times we spent sitting under it on the back hood of my fathers car, talking about our dreams and what it would take to chase them, and still hoping you’re doing everything you said you would. My high hopes for the future concerning us have been altered, and I’ll continue onto my own journey with an unfamiliar and undiscovered end, now with more anticipation than ever before.
My best friend and I have always trusted the signs handed to us by life.
Last night, everything pulled us to end up where we did. Our initial plans did not involve us being welcomed by old faces and to experience a true blast from our pasts. I faced a fire for the second time within this past month, but this time around, the time of my life I burned was there unscathed in the flesh. To describe every thought that trailed through my mind when I saw him a midst the embraces of old friends is immeasurable. I was hanging by my own heartbeat, but it didn’t beat the way it used to. The sound resonated differently, it wasn’t longing, it wasn’t scared; it was confident and as reassuring as the flames that kept me apart from what was. A stranger stood on the other side, too far deep for my lungs to outlast the smoke if I were to reach out the way I had before.
It was disheartening to act as if we had always been nonexistent to one another, despite the lack of bad blood. I envisioned this scene differently countless times in my mind during the months prior; we greeted like old grateful friends, no matter who held our hearts, instead of exchanging sly looks and apprehensive smiles. I was engulfed with contentment from receiving a warm welcome from everyone else, belittling the unpleasant glares of someone I’ve never given a reason to hate me for. My respect and gratitude will always be given to those he chooses to stand by his side and love, as I would expect simultaneously.
However, my head can’t comprehend my contrasting thoughts right now, they dance and fight with each other the same way the ocean slams and kisses the shore. Falling out of love with him became easier when his soul became unrecognizable, but a part of him lit a spark in that fire last night I thought I had put out permanently. Despite him validating the unfortunate perceptions others warned me about, his laugh sounded the same, he still had a smirk that could kill, and that familiar gaze that I’ve always blamed to set fire; and now, I don’t know if it’s right to continue to drench the old flame before it spreads freely and I let it ignite.
December 30th, 2014
When You Fall In Love With a Writer, You Can Never Die
You’ve heard the phrase, right?
This past summer, God provided the next stepping stone of my life that would define all my passions into reality, He knew I needed it after we’d made the choice of letting each other go. He knew that I had been preparing myself for a month before I even asked Him to guide us to make that decision, because He knew the answer all along, and had something waiting for me because of it. I discovered the reason He put me here, and it was to become a voice for the unheard. The children that surrounded me throughout this summer made it almost impossible to regret losing you in life, because they ended up defining it. I no longer yearned for you, because I understood that without us continuing our journeys separately I might have never discovered mine.
I decided to keep who you were, who I loved, alive through words you inspired and slowly but ever so surely I started to understand that is how you would remain; as a part of my story that made me who I am today. It wasn’t until now, half a year later, that I saw you when I no longer loved you as someone I might not recognize that I vowed to keep who you were alive. Remember that morning I packed two stories into my bag the night we decided our future? I couldn’t bring myself to take out the jewelry the way I originally intended. I was going to place it on the counter right before we left. That morning I kept twirling it in between my fingers to understand its meaning, it was almost more difficult to make up my mind about that than bringing the ultimatum to your attention. That necklace might be the closest thing I have to magic in this world that I live in, it proved challenging to let go of it.
Now here I am, staring at it as I type because it popped into my mind during this post so I pulled it out of drawer. I can’t help but think because of the events of this month whether or not there’s a trace of magic left inside of it, but for some reason, a small part of me believes there might be. It could be very small, like a fading light, if it hasn’t been extinguished entirely already. I’m not here to tell you that I want the magic to grow, I think what I’m trying to say, is that I want it to remain and never die.
That’s an unfortunate truth when someone falls in love a writer, they say you never die; because their love and existence remains immortal between every word written until the end of time, and forever after.