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she’s not there

November 13, 2011

She wrote, “I am a fragile human body” or something of the sort. She opens herself up to trauma, emotional and physical. She comes to heal, leaves hurt.

I am a fragile human body. To date, I have yet to go a full 60 minutes in yoga without stopping to catch my breath, cradle my aches, tend to my wounds. My skin is soft-sensitive-scarred. I bruise when you breathe on me. I walk into things, I’m prone to hangnails and headaches, dizzy spells and crying jags.

My body knows when I’ve had enough. The body knows when it’s time to throw in the towel, when retreat is relief.

My body gets the message a lot sooner than the rest of me.

I’ve walked away from a lot of people this year. A few close friends, a soul sister, an almost lover.

I had to. When I say goodbye, it’s almost never meant to hurt you. I never mean to say “fuck you and the life we had together”. How could I ever say that?

“I feel like you threw me away”, I told him. “I loved you. I love you. I carry you with me everyday, I didn’t throw you away”, he said.

When she failed to show up for dinner, for drinks I compiled a list of hurts and threw them in her direction. Her answers weren’t good enough. I walked away.

You told me you were trying to fix the life you have. I respect that.

[I love his face, I tell her. Someone else loves it too. She’s looking at it now, my sister tells me]

And then you reached out for me just to make sure I was still there. You shouldn’t have. I need(ed) the room to breathe, to set things back into their places. Innocuous enough message, but you shouldn’t have sent it.

Commit to the life you have. Dance with the one that brung ya. Failing that, reach for the golden ring. Take a chance on the unknown.

You cannot do both.

“I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations — one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it — you will regret both.”

I’m walking away from you. From the image I have of you in my mind. From what I’ve projected onto you. From the words you didn’t say, the impressions you did not give. I am walking away from the sadness in your eyes that moved me so much. I am walking away from becoming some sad shadow hanging around hoping to be noticed. That’s not who I am. I accept full responsibility for my part in this. For barging into your life, your world and attempting to wreak havoc. It was never my intention to upset your life.

I only ever wanted to awaken the dead. Breathe new life into your bones, lick the salt of the sea off your shoulder and rescue you from the depths.

That’s someone else’s job. It has been for years. I made the mistake of not realizing that.

This fragile body of mine needs a rest. I have feelings. They’ve been hurt. I don’t think anyone ever means to hurt me, but they do. I am responsible for this, too.

So, I am retreating. I am side-stepping landmines, I am avoiding the same old games of cat and mouse that I am liable to fall into. I’m setting my eyes on new conquests just to convince me you do not exist, you never did.

I need to breathe.

 

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 13, 2011 10:52 pm

    “I bruise when you breathe on me.”

    This.

  2. November 13, 2011 11:13 pm

    Sad

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