Fall Four, Stand Five

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*****

YOU'RE OVER ME... I'm fascinated still. I dream about it a lot. I forget I care during the day, but at night the hurt crawls around in my head like a snake, suffocating reality, so all I have are these dreams. I wake, and for a few seconds, the world is as it should be. I linger in that time, grasping at the tendrils of my imaginings till all that is left is the dead weight of my melancholy.

She's beautiful, the girl you left me for; a mythical creature, with walls surrounding her, protecting her from the pollution of me. She's everything I couldn't be. Isn't she? She'd have to be, or how could she win? I'm not allowed to know who she is, you see? "For my own good." But it's torture really. A power game. I know he's not blind to it. God how I wish I were. Wish I didn't care, didn't see her in my dreams. Pretty and blonde. Small and vulnerable. Graceful and secure. Loved.

At least that's what I imagine and I know that if I ask to know the truth, that's not what our mutual friends will say of my replacement. Instead, they'll tell me that I haven't been replaced, could never be. She's not better or worse, just different is all. A change. And they'll look at me with pity, because they all hoped I wouldn't still care.

It's knawing at me right now. Eating me up with an intensity I can't even admit to. To admit it would mean being pitied and I don't need people to feel sorry for me. I just need to be better. I've watched the people around me who are in love, watched them with an intensity that, if they'd noticed, would have scared them. What scares me is that I cannot place me in their picture, can no longer see myself with a love of my own. I barely remember what it felt like to be held and kissed and close and missed.

I don't know if he ever really thought of me when I wasn't around and I can't ask him now. It made me feel like nothing. Now I feel like two people, each playing their part: The happy, smiling, brave girl living the life of her dreams and the sad, broken, scared girl dreaming of the life she used to live.

It feels like there was a schism in my existence, as if there was a break in reality and I got lost somehow. Sometimes I think this is all just a nightmare and I'm waiting to wake up and have him tell me he was wrong and he misses me. What if I never feel real again? What if he never misses me at all?

Two years on and I still see him sometimes: in my dreams, in a sleight of hand or a turn of phrase. The perfect one, the one who should have been. I never see the one who is, not sure if I ever could. It's so incredibly sad, to think what could have been and what actually is. He taught me lessons he has yet to learn himself. To have once been so deep and to have become so utterly flimsy is such a loss for this world.

Perhaps what I saw was never really there. Maybe he was a fictional character all along, created from daydreams and fantasies and favourite heroes from favourite books. I hope not. Whatever it was, the reality or the illusion no longer exists. The world and all its mundanity has swallowed another soul and I am left to mourn the boy with braces and floppy hair who wanted to be a Jedi knight.

I wonder if his new lover would recognise the boy I'm writing of, if she could see the man she loves in these lines, or if he's so far from this he would seem a stranger to her.

He's got a normal life now, doing the job that destroyed him, engaged to this girl who doesn't even know there was once more to see. He always said the universe would win and I never understood why it had to be a fight. He opened my eyes to the magic of the world as he turned his face away.

And it still hurts. I can't believe it still hurts. I'm so sick of it, of the scars and heaviness in my heart. I hate him for making this all so hard, for making me so cold inside, for making me believe I am worthless. But still I miss him. I miss my life then. Things are so different now. I miss how my heart would lighten just to look at him sleeping beside me, or across the room. It upsets me that the memories are fading. I wish I could go back, just for a little while. I wish we had met when I was how I am now, but how he was then. I'm so tired of feeling broken. I'm so scared that I'll never feel again the way I felt when I was with him.

*****

THE HEAT THE HURT / NEXT...

I want my hands on you. Right now. I want to sneak out of here and I'm thinking of sliding my hand up your thigh. How far could we go before someone sees? God you get me so hot. I'm burning on the inside. Can you feel the heat under my skin? Touch me, please. I'll beg for you. Please and cherries and all things nice. I'm down on my knees to get you good and hot and hungry. I won't breathe till you're on me. I'm craving the weight of you. I want to keep you up all night and when everyone else is sleeping we'll be living our dreams locked in your room. Tie me up. Pin me down. I'll struggle and you'll push and I'll moan as you take off my clothes. In the dawn men in suits will hear the sounds of our heat as they walk to work and will hurry home to kiss their wives in ways they thought they'd forgotten.

*****

I'm lying on the beach, looking at the stars and it's cold but I just can't seem to leave. The sand is damp and there's a small gap between my jeans and my coat where night air and sand is creeping. I'm thinking of how my heart still hurts and under whom I am hiding this pain. He doesn't deserve to pay for his predecessor's mistakes, but I don't know that I care for him enough to protect him.

Strange how we don't learn, how we're drawn to things we know will hurt us. Sometimes I'm drawn to things because they'll hurt me. I spend so much time being strong I need someone stronger to make me feel weak, cause isn't that what I am really? A silly little girl who should be made to understand?

"I like to be man-handled," I tell this beautiful boy I have no intention of ever revealing more than my flesh to. I want to be treated roughly, pushed up against a wall, pressed over a desk, pulled to the floor. I want to be his frightened, little virgin and his dirty, fiery slut. So many roles, so many parts to play and I will remain to him an enigma, an equation he will never figure out. He'll approach me with the same drive he uses to attack his work. An ambitious, passionate desire to understand what he does not yet know.

Flashes of our would-be affair rush through my thoughts. He runs his hand over the tops of my stockings to reach further between my legs; I unzip his fly and kneel before him; my eyes widen as he moves over and into me; we lie in the sweaty aftermath and my hair falls over my shoulder as I turn to talk with him.

Am I bored with you already? You've been in my head so much I think I have already worn you out. I'll suffocate you under the weight of my expectations. I am not even so sure what I want from you. To be wanted I suppose...

Do I want to know you? I fear it would shatter my illusions and I'm so scared of that happening over again. I want from you a darkness I am unconvinced you possess. What if your reticence is nothing more than shyness? I know it is immature for me to want you to be angry and hurt, but, my darling, there is so much power in those emotions. I feel in my gut however, that this is not good for me.

If you were nice to me and gentle and loving and sweet I do not know what I would do. I do not want to be possessed. It makes me sick to think of it. I will not be yours outside these walls and you will never get to know me. But no one ever really knows anyone anyway, so why do you persist?

*****

Another crowded train, another draughty station and the beautiful scenery of uncharted territory rushes by. I want to disembark early and go where I know no one and they know me even less.

But still, I could couple watch for hours. I don't feel a thing. It's too far away from me. I've never felt more solitary. My skin is emptiness. My experiences are not things to be shared. They talk and kiss and she sleeps on his shoulder. How would I ever do such things? Would I trust that they were received with love and not endurance? I don't know anymore.

It feels like I've been alone forever. I need someone to love me utterly. Someone I want to love, who won't mind how torn and twisted I am, with patience to piece me together again and heal these wounds. Or maybe I need someone to destroy, someone to take down with me as we burn each other out and rise, clean, from the ashes.

I want something to fight. There's a black rage crawling under my skin, making my limbs twitch and my heartbeat hard in my chest. Fucking come on then, I want to yell and take blow after blow till my lips and knuckles and knees are bleeding, my opponent is on the floor and I, on shaky legs, look down upon them. I don't know who or why I'm fighting. I just want the pure white smash of annihilation.

*****

SOULMATE

How ironic that my soul-mate should be a girl. But I would not give this up, nor compromise it for the world. What we have transcends my abilities as a writer.

How do you convey what it is truly like to understand and be understood? How it feels to have someone see you for everything that you are and just that little bit more, so you're always striving to be your best for them? But also to know that should you ever disappoint they will be the first to help you up, dust off your failure and tell you everything will be okay.

How do I explain this ache in my stomach when we are miles apart? That I would fight endlessly for us? That I would not hesitate to give my life for hers?

We met when we were only half of what we are now, and we influenced each other so subtly it went unnoticed, till suddenly those two little girls staring off into the distance became two young women with the world in their arms.

It is too easy to take for granted, to forget the wonder of our journey, but I have tears in my eyes as I write this. I know just how lucky we are. We laugh often and loudly, finish each other's sentences, or understand when they are left hanging, never run out of passion for what we love or of something to say.

It is inconceivable to imagine my life without her. Who would I be if she never showed me who I really am? Where would I be if no one wanted to travel this path with me? What would it be like to still feel alone? Our lives have uncannily mirrored each other, so we've come to the same understandings through different situations where the essential feelings were the same. An old soul comes with many responsibilities and a childlike wonder for everything and everyone around us. I like to think we sweep people up in our exuberance, that lives have been changed because of our energy.

Things just happen when we're together. Without her I am lost. I am alone. I am half of myself and my soul goes with her. I worry for her, because I know she feels the same, but has less dependable people to protect her. Often she has no one at all. The phone is inadequate for our multi-layered communication. I feel every single one of the five hundred miles between us and I long always to be with her again.

Adventures just unfold beneath our feet. And we always take up the charge, backpacks on, boots tied, smiles on our faces and love in our hearts.

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