Today's Realization

I don't know how to reblog things.
I have no idea how tumblr works( don't even start on setting a page up for myself)
I don't know how to sew a simple stitch
I can't make my "cat eyes" even
I get nervous in places...all places
I forget how to eat when said anxiety sets in
I get very strong urges to cut myself that come out of nowhere and not very often
I'm terrible at math
I bite my nails
I never have matching socks on
I lose all my bobby pins in a matter of days
I have unruly hair
I hate exercise and I'd rather sleep
I prefer to eat everything with my hands
I don't like shoes
I get really sad for no reason and for some reasons
I eat when I'm not hungry
I shop when I don't need anything
I have no money
I spend money that I don't have
Sometimes I miss people I shouldn't and I don't miss people that I should
I get angry
I can't sit still for very long
I don't like watching other people sleep
I never return Redbox DVD's on time. Never.

I'm up and down.
Sort of a child on a tire-swing waiting to be let down by the "pusher".

...

...but you don't give much back do you?
I would crunch my bones to be next to you in the middle of the night with stacks of papers and cups of coffee. I would sit, heavy-eyed, lose precious comatose, and watch you with such grace, but you're too busy freezing yourself in a tub of ice.

I like to pretend that I don't give a shit, but my stomach lurches and hops as the minutes go by and you don't call back. You said. You said you'd call, I'm waiting, call me, why won't you call back? Don't you know I'm a child waiting for Santa to come down the chimney? when really it turns out to be the tooth fairy and he rips out my molar with numb force. Please.

It's for you really, I decorate my arm with a precious red scrape. It's pretty this time. Long, rose red, it crosses the healing scars from before. You should see it. I did it to pop the balloon, to release the pressurized air beneath my skin that was formed by my swollen heart. You have a way of throwing blows at me without leaving a bruise....so I do it for you. I leave your mark since you're too sorry to do it yourself. I leave your mark because I feel like I love way too much, like I go way too far to make such a spoiled man. I feel like you don't give back much, but who wrote your paper on racism for Afro-American class? Who ordered expensive food the day you were stuck in doing chores? Who did those things? Who is bleeding now?

But really, I love you. I just don't know how much I believe you lately.

Today we lay on the rocks in the harbor. Scratchy sand fleas hopped from rock to rock and crittered along the soft inside of my arm. I was with you, on our backs against a sun-warmed rock. So close to the water, so close to the birds and the wind and each other. This was a moment of time where I only loved you. Nothing else. I fell asleep on your chest as we lay down there at the bottom of the harbor. A place where usually only squirrels and vermin ventured, but we were there. We were the most beautiful vermin on the rocks. I slept on you. I felt the serenity of everything that was calm and harmless. I asked you burning yet unimportant questions and you followed after with yours.

 "Have you ever thought about me dieing?"
"Have you thought about having kids?"
"Have you ever been mad at me beyond words?"
"Did you want to have sex with your prom date?"

Those types.

We became part of the grass, the rocks, the water, the sea, and you kissed my red stained lips. I am your warmest responsibility and we were so perfect in that moment.
What do I do with you?

Acid

I can be hateful towards you and I can love you at the same time. Cliche, but also a mixture of acidic bubbles that tear into my innards and draw me closer to you. Sometimes I feel absolutely numb, I feel sick to my charred core and then the heat of your chest and the chill in my feet make me want to stay within the warmth of your heart. I've come to re-assume the fetal position. Sometimes it's to hold myself together, sometimes it's because I fear that standing up would dump me into the ground and you'll be left with a fleshy carpet.
Sometimes I don't want you to touch me. Your very contact makes me crawl and suddenly I see you there, my hand tracing your jaw and I want nothing more. I want nothing more than to be some dark spot in the corner of your mind. The car accident you can't look away from.
Once, you made the anger spill up until I opened my car door while we were in a tunnel. In that moment, I wanted to run away from the light at the end so you wouldn't be able to find me. What I really find is that I'm always angry. I'm always broken in a way that makes my hinges squeak and makes me want to push you away. God, sometimes. Sometimes you bug the shit out of me and most of the time I crave you in the middle of the night.
Today you kissed me long and hard like i'd be going away for a very long time. You kissed me and as I write this, my heart aches and I wonder if I take advantage of our love. If it were to be cast out of our live, minds, etc... would I be any different?
I just want to get away with you and open my door in that tunnel, but this time, take your large hand in mine and run. Please understand that I am confused in this. I am so in love with hating you and I hate that I love you so much.
Somehow though, my love becomes those acidic bubbles and burns through the hate so all that is left is a beautiful and perfectly constructed light.

Edge Wedge

I forced it. I wedged myself into some small place in such a way that I became a piece of it. Bystanders would have passed by without a hint of curiosity as to what I was. I locked up. I found a comfortable place and curled up there for hours on end until my body could no longer stand to be at rest. It heated up to wake me and I felt fire. I felt clammy warmth that spilled over into my bones and filled my head with boiled blood. All day I wondered why I was loved. I wondered how to be better, how to prune a bonsai tree, how to get away without any cents.
I drank blood red water that filled my body and replaced what I had let leak out in moments of weakness and darkness.
We said it at the same time...in whispers. I held it in hands of steel and clenched my teeth to bite down on the feeling. In the core of my very being I was so sure of a future encrusted in gold. I was so grateful for the feeling of being on top of you in a warm place. I hold you so close and you don't even know it. You don't get it my love. My love made of a tangible mold. You'll never understand how it feels to say the same words so methodically that they come out cracked and dry. I'm fine. It's fine. Don't worry. It's okay. I'm okay.
I'm a piece of work and you are a piece of my many pieces. So broken and so fragmented that putting me back together would be a project of grand proportions. So what's the point? Why do you love me?

I didn't understand it.
The motions that it would take to sink so far, so ankle-deep, that it'd be impossible to fall.
I tried, doe-eyed in bed to understand with my eyes. To see through something fleshy and beautiful, but I couldn't and the afternoon burned away without waiting for me.
I still tried to understand the new level you had reached, the realization...what it must feel like to be hit by a feeling as heavy as a brick or a sack of flour.
It seemed like as my cuts healed and turned to roseate etches, I was finding new things to love. Not healed, no, not reveling in a new self image or sense of structure...just discovering.
I think it hit me as I watched us in the mirror, readying ourselves for the day. You, washing your face in your hands, and me with a toothbrush sticking sideways out of my mouth.
I realized it; how my head always seems to know how to sit on your chest. How, I can curl into your shape and feel like the world can wait. It can just wait, and nothing bad will ever happen here, right here.
I think I started knowing while wearing your over-sized plaid shirt to bed. Wearing it, taking it off, letting it hang off of me. Vulnerable. Waking up in it loose around my bare body and you, looking at me in mid-morning light through tired lids. Those lids. So tired, so over-worked, but willing to stay open, to hold my gaze no matter what.
There are things I was waiting to understand, things I knew I understood, and things I never wanted to.
And then it hit me.
Magic.