Bent Words

Bent Words

July 01, 2008

If I could bring you back to this very spot – where things start to make sense to me – than I think I could find peace. You know how it is, when you’re standing in a certain position, aware of what’s going on, but just not quite getting it? Well, that’s how I’ve felt for years. I start toward the door and then all of a sudden I’m struck stiff in the middle of the floor, full of this odd realization, staring at this cold understanding and wishing it weren’t such a too-late revelation.

I always was a slow learner.

But, looking back on some insightful words spattered across a few pages of the past, I see now that I wasn’t altogether insane (and isn’t that refreshing news?) for loving you like I did. I wasn’t right or completely wrong, overly stupid or ridiculously immature – I was just fighting. I was fighting for you and what I knew we could be.

Looking back, I realize I shouldn’t have been and shouldn’t be beating myself up over it – over our risqué beginning, our sinfully magic middle or our rocky ending(s). I shouldn’t be beating myself up about it because it’s not as though I was trying to hurt anyone at all or ever. I didn’t intend to cause pain for you or your family or for myself. It’s just that I knew I couldn’t lose you and I knew that if I let you go, you wouldn’t just come back when you were ready – that’s not how it works. I knew you’d move on.

Not that I know this but, perhaps, for you it’s ‘easier’ (in a sense) to start over. For me, that’s not an option because it’s damn near impossible for me to move on – even if I know I should. For me there’s no such thing as a clean slate or a fresh beginning. It’s all about what you’ve done to get there and how hard you worked along the way. So, to have to explain all of that over to someone new and somehow believe that they could understand is damn near unfathomable to me – especially when I’m still working on the comprehension of what has been four years ‘gone.’ I can’t just begin again because you’re still a real part of what currently captures my attention. You took up lodgings in my soul and I’m afraid I’ve not been able to make much room for others since that time.

And the reason that I’m still here now, pining and longing and hoping to figure it out, is because I did just that. I made this huge space for you in my life. I wanted that huge space for you in my life. You moved in and you were there and I allowed myself to feel and love and adore all of it. And I knew for certain that if you were to go away or end things or retreat in any small way I would be right here – still holding on. I knew back then that you had the best part of me. You captured me. You captivated me. You stole my breath without an inkling of intention. You were just it. You were him.

But you left me. That’s why I went to hell – I began to question if you could do this – if you could do us. Although you did come back, twice, you had also left me twice. You could not take me with you when you turned your attention to them, you could not guiltlessly admit that you were happy or admit to me that you were sad. You could not have both worlds together and so you felt you had lost control. That’s how I felt, too. That I had lost control.

I did not, ever, want to control you but I wanted to know that you wanted me IN YOUR LIFE – all of it. And when you could not make that clear to me, I lost all sense of control in my own world, in the space I had given you. I was deeply in love, all in, and ready to share the rest of my life with you but you weren’t ready for us. I freaked out because of that. I freaked out at the thought of losing you. I freaked out at the thought of loving you too much while you were still working things out. I freaked out that I had lost the best thing in my life and it wasn’t even ‘something’ I had any right to. I felt like I had stepped over into some sort of territory I wasn’t supposed to and so I lost myself in trying to balance your personal space against the space I made just for you. I went crazy because I didn’t know if I should step over into your world or keep a slight distance so as not to scare you away.

I still wanted to fight with all my strength but I also didn’t want to hold you back from what you really wanted or what you had to prove real to your kids. I didn’t want to be that sketchy person who controlled you or commanded your movements or even kind of restricted your desires – I just wanted to be a part of them – a proud part of them.

But you did not or could not or would not share all of you with me and there I was – long before it happened – knowing that I would never fully recover from it.

Hence my current state.

I knew I wouldn’t let go because no matter the strife, no matter how high the walls or impossible the climbs, I knew I could bear it with you. I knew that concurring that would only make us stronger and I knew that what we had exceeded all those stupid boundaries or else we wouldn’t have started the whole thing in the first place. I knew I wouldn’t just lie down and let you pass because we shared too many similar loves and questions and queries and adventures and we meshed like two people don’t usually mesh.

We loved life and the off-road adventures life threw at us. We loved being deviant and we loved being devoted. We loved working hard and making a difference and realizing our potential through each other’s praises and our own personal achievements. We never discarded things altogether or passed over things idly. We were always eager to prove ourselves and make our hearts known and willing to work on whatever it was that got into our damned way. We liked who we were when we were with each other but we never gave each other enough credit to win the fight. So we were wrong, in some ways, both of us.

We were wrong in thinking that the battle was over each other – it was just over ourselves and, unfortunately, we weren’t able to concur our own fears in time. In time to stay together and focused and happy and realistic. We thought we were doing the right thing by giving each other space because neither of us, after a while, actually took the time to really hear the other person’s feelings. We both tried to do what we, individually, thought was best for the other person without really knowing what the hell it was the other person wanted. We caved.

We stopped fighting.

Or, at least, one of us did.

I went crazy and did stupid things because I was confused and in love and because I knew, for the first time in my life, that nothing was assured and nothing was safe and nothing was perfectly sacred despite the fact that I so desperately wanted it to be. I wanted us to be sacred and lasting and endless like nothing I’ve ever dreamed of before. I wanted the hard work, the maddening glory and struggle and I wanted it so badly because it was always and still is worth it. I went crazy because I KNEW it was right and still I questioned it. I should have never questioned it.

I did stupid things because I never knew where we were supposed to start and where we were supposed to end. I wanted to know. That one thing. I wanted to know. I wanted to know it was real and know that you held it as preciously as I did. So when I thought you weren’t holding it up quite as high, I did whatever I could to make you believe you couldn’t hurt me – which was bullshit. I hurt me more by being a doof than you’ll ever know.

‘Cause I’m still here. Waiting for that second chance. Hoping for that reality that “nothing compares to me.” Though I realize how much of an ass I must be to still hold on, I still do. For I know how precious and rare that it was and will be.

Written at 10:01 p.m.