unhappy

The week we slept together I was still happy. 

I slept with you and with Glasses and that couple. 

I slept with three other people the week we last slept together. 

Did you sleep with her that same week?

I slept with three other people and I was happy and I was vibrant and I trusted myself. 

The night you wrote me I was happy. 

I slept with a stranger and I was happy and I went to the coast and I missed your opera because I was happy and I had plans that had nothing to do with you and I didn't need to write you back because you'd sent me a song and that was enough and I felt beautiful and I was happy. 

The night you called me I was so happy. 

We talked for hours and you called the next night and we talked even longer and you wanted my body each night but I didn't come over because we wanted things to be different and I said you could have my body in fifteen hours and you moaned fifteen hours like it was the longest length of time to endure. 

And I said yes, I will be all yours in fifteen hours and I told you I'm so happy and you whispered so am I. 

And then you disappeared and I was unhappy. 

You missed our date and you never called and I didn't know what happened or if you were okay and I was worried and I was unhappy. 

And I finally found you and you cried and ran away from me when I tried to say goodbye and I didn't understand and my confusion made me unhappy. 

And weeks passed and then I stumbled upon you and you turned away from me and ran away again and I didn't understand and my confusion continued to make me unhappy. 

And then the next day you wrote the cruelest words you've ever said to me, crueler than anything I ever dreamed you might feel and your cruelty numbed my heart and I was so unhappy. 

And then the next day because you possibly feared your words hadn't been sharp enough you blocked me, blocked me as you had promised through tears you would never do, but now you had, have blocked me.

Unfair, unkind rhetoric and unnecessary banishment from every corner of your life. 

And I am fucking unhappy. 

I don't sleep with anyone and I doubt my own instincts and my wild heart and I'm unhappy. 

Everyone wants me to forget you and let it go but my heart hurts so much and I am so desperately unhappy. 

I'm sitting on the beach and the ocean always calms my soul and it's nice and all but I'm still monumentally unhappy. 

And my best friend was crying, on her stomach, uncontrollably shaking and she said I don't want to be sad anymore and I said I don't either but I'm still so unhappy. 

And we are the feelers.

Everything pierces our hearts and lingers and we resonate with every ounce of feeling within it. 

And it would be nice to stop feeling sad. 

It would be nice to sleep with strangers and feel beautiful and go places I love and be so so happy but right now my heart is broken and I am unhappy. 

I put on a hat I love and wore the red lipstick in the gold case I'd never used before and I'm trying really hard to remember the rainbow I used to be but I'm still incredibly unhappy. 

And maybe it's wrong to give you so much power and you shouldn't know this depression is rooted in you because after all, you're just a boy, not nearly yet a true man, you're frightened and you're a coward and you are not capable of the kind of love overflowing in my veins. 

But it's you. 

The culprit of my wounded heart. 

The villain. 

The unfortunate object of my hearts greatest desire. 

And time will make all of this smaller and I will learn to cohabitate with my sadness and it will release me from the final memory of your cruel stare peering through that faded window pane, staring at my form in horror through those green spectacles I detest in entirety. 

But now, right painfully now, I am devastated and I'm unhappy. 

And as much as I may be awful in saying this, I hope wherever you are, whatever you're doing, whichever new woman is in your bed this Sunday afternoon, I hope you are secretly, monumentally, unhappy too.

Because how could you possibly embody pure joy when you have shattered the woman I used to be. 

to the man who gave me a pony

I must have been particularly downcast last night because I reached for the stuffed animal you gave me. 

I slept with it often when you gave it to me last year. 

But I hadn't for a long time. 

And I needed it last night. 

It's fuzzy mane fit perfectly under my neck and it was like this calming reassurance to my heart that there is love outside of this pain. 

I remember when you gave it to me I was naked under the covers. 

You tip toed the tiny thing from my navel to my chin until you peeked it's head from under the blanket. 

It was so cheesy adorable and surprisingly unsexual considering we'd just, *cough*, fucked. 

I don't even remember why I'd gotten so pissed at you but you went and done got me a pony because for six years whenever you'd piss me off I'd say, You owe me a pony!

And there it was, snuggled up in my hands, like some treasure, some fuzzy embodiment of sheer affection. 

You felt kind of ridiculous giving it to me, and really a forty year old giving his lover a stuffed animal probably is a little ridiculous, but it was perfect just like you knew it would be, and all these months later it was what brought me comfort when I was feeling so overwhelmingly fucking sad. 

I was playing with Cartier tonight, laying on the floor, and I suddenly remembered how you'd come over and got on your hands and knees and magically charmed my cat. 

Remember that morning you walked in carrying Cartier and I nearly died of shock because my cat HATES men but he loved you. 

And I do too. 

You're ten years older than him which is wild to imagine. 

Two soul mates, so very far apart. 

He blocked me again. 

Phone and social media this time. 

Like Kai. 

Why are all the men I love so afraid of me, Batman?

You've never been.  

You're the only one. 

And you have no idea how much comfort it brings me knowing you would never shut me out entirely. 

Not like they did. 

It's almost our season, you know. 

The leaves will nearly change color and you'll wear those cabbie hats I adore and the moon will be so bright and so close you'll want to reach out and touch it. 

Like me. 

The moon. 

All this pain has happened and I thought of you and wished you'd hear my heart crying but I remembered this isn't our season and I won't hear from you for several months. 

Men and their seasons. 

His, the spring. 

Yours, the fall. 

The winter does get so terribly lonely. 

But you know it only took one night with you last year to make me forget about him entirely. 

I wonder if that's what his girlfriend does for him....

Make him forget me entirely....

But I don't get to keep you so then I am reminded of both losses. 

And it's okay because somehow I know we're gonna end up together when we're old and tired and it will be enough just to stare into each other's shimmering eyes. 

One look from you and all the cares in my world melted away. 

I have always been a goddess to you. 

And not because I was some mere fantasy. 

But because I am a woman you adore.

No one else has ever done that to me. 

The man I'm pining for now makes me doubt all the wild cries within my heart.

He always has.

Because I have only ever been a fantasy in his eyes. 

But You..

You, my darling, are possibly the only man who loves how absolutely crazy my wild heart can be. 

And you will always be the one because of it. 

For the Love of Guac

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the music never changes

I thought of something. 

The other day, feeling nothing. 

I remembered how much he said he loved Tom Waits. 

That he was his favorite, actually. 

And I know I'm not supposed to believe any other part of the conversation.

Because he never does what he says he will and he always does what he says he won't. 

And I know I'm not supposed to believe the love that was expressed or the lyrics that were sung. 

It's you and it's you and it's you.

Because it was never me. 

But amidst hours of lies, there was at least A truth. 

He does love Tom Waits. 

And he did change his voice by screaming into a pillow.

So there's that. 

That's real. 

Everything else was feigned.

But I have that. 

So I found a Tom Waits pandora station. 

And I love it. 

And listening to jazz and blues right now makes sense. 

And it's nice to have something make sense right now. 

Because none of our interactions make any sense. 

And I know there's a part of me that needs to hope that I'll hear from him again one day. 

But I know I won't. 

He's never blocked me in every way before. 

And every man whose done that, it's been forever. 

He doesn't even care that I didn't do it. 

I guess that's our story though. 

Burned down just because I was there. 

Doing nothing. 

Just breathing. 

And he doesn't read this anymore. 

He's forgotten me. 

Because he told me that's what he does. 

That he can. 

He burns for me in the spring. 

Then hates me in the summer. 

And forgets me in the winter. 

But next spring will be different. 

He won't see me across the room and walk up and give me a hug. 

He won't miss his bus on purpose and text me when he gets home and say it was fun to see me. 

He won't see me at all. 

But maybe when he doesn't mean to he might remember me. 

For just a moment. 

For a song. 

Maybe that might at least be real.  

Maybe I can at least have that. 

Our New Place

I woke up dazed. 

Hungover. 

Numb. 

Last nights mascara stuck to my cheek. 

It felt like I'd dreamed it.

But of course

I hadn't. 

My dreams aren't that fucked up.

I had to get up because I had a photoshoot which I desperately wanted to cancel but I figured that was a terrible idea since it was a paid gig and I'm such a novice I don't want to start having a reputation for being a flake. 

Even though I was sobbing while trying to hide my pain with Kat Von D foundation.

So I went and thankfully because the photography process is so slow there was a lot of time where I was waiting. 

I didn't have to be on.

I just kind of zoned out and watched the honeybees sipping flowers on the grass wondering why they're always portrayed as cute in cartoons when in real life I'm terrified of being stung. 

Then moments from last night replayed in my mind and I cringed. 

And I tried to look at the blue sky and think about other things.

The students in the class were a welcome distraction. 

One told me he wanted me to smile for his photo because my smile was so lovely. 

The shot of each photo lasted several seconds before it was complete so I had to hold my giant grin for what felt an awkwardly long time.

He told me that was perfect and took the tin film cartridge inside to be developed. 

I felt relieved that I didn't have to smile anymore. 

I zoned out once again looking at the grass. 

It was a strange feeling, being able to turn on the exuberance for an audience. 

And then go back to listless and lifeless when no one was looking. 

When the session was over I was grateful.

It had helped. 

A little. 

Being around strangers.

Being distracted. 

But I also wanted it to be okay for me to just feel numb. 

I met Amelie and we went for brunch. 

Brunch at 3pm felt appropriate. 

The streets were quiet. 

The restaurant was empty. 

I'm glad it's sunny, Amelie said. 

I wanted it to rain so the weather would match my mood, I said. 

Amelie looked at me knowingly. 

But we don't always get what we want. 

I sipped my water. 

Our waiter came over and was so friendly.

He made us laugh.

He sat down at the table and started telling us stories. 

It was this new energy, for both of us, suddenly.

Silly, happy, carefree light being shoved in both our faces. 

And it was wonderful. 

When he brought us our bill he said, I bought your drinks, ladies. 

It was such a small thing but he walked away and I looked at Amelie, See, that. Made me happy. 

There were still moments. 

Moments that made me happy. 

And it felt like this lifeline. 

Something to hold onto when everything else was crumbling around me. 

When I couldn't get a hug from her anymore or a saz from him anymore.

We got up to leave and he gave us each a hug.

We took a few steps away from the restaurant then looked at each other and hugged. 

We have a new place, I said. 

Yeah, this will be our new bar. 

Who needs Barlow when we have Brayden.

And who knows. 

Maybe he even made an amazing sazerac. 

Bye Bye Bestie

She dumped me. 

I can't even tell you what happened. 

Fifteen years later, I get a text. 

Love to you.

What does that even mean?

Matthew sent love my way once.

Is that like the namaste version of I don't love you but I'm a spiritual person whose better than you so here's a little love because I'm so very generous, spirit flower?

She could have picked up the fucking phone. 

Or shit, I don't know, seen me.

It's fate, really, because she's behaving the way she knows my past lovers have done. 

She sounds just like Nick in the letter he wrote you last summer, Mom said. 

Jesus. 

Sounding like the kid who told me being around me disrupted the energy of his soul?

What a life goal right there. 

I'm so fucking hurt. 

I said I love you, I said I'm hurting.

And she said, I just need to focus on myself right now.

Are you allowed to just dismiss someone's plea for you?

I always will be here as your friend. 

Right. 

Just not right now. 

Just not in any way you know I need.

It's the girlfriend equivalent of We can still be friends when everyone knows after a breakup. 

You never fucking stay friends. 

But thanks a heap for the platitudes and niceties. 

I'm glad you could feel centered and balanced while you told me to fuck off. 

I was much more succinct. 

Fuck you, bestie.

What a bunch of self indulgent victimizing bullshit. 

I've been with you longer than your spouse and you suddenly can't be bothered to deal with me?

I shut another woman out of my life because of her mistreatment of you and now I'm being shut out.

That's perfect. 

Good for you. 

Good for you for sending me such perfectly composed, calculated texts. 

After all, a text message really is the most truthful way to communicate. 

I mean, shit, Matthew used Facebook messenger but you, you really took it up a notch, you used a text. 

I'd tell you what I really thought of you but I know you won't read this now that you're too zen to participate in social media. 

Fucking hell. 

You know what's sad?

You want to know the most fucked up part about this break up?

I 

don't 

miss her. 

We've been so fucking estranged for so goddamn long and I haven't been able to count on her or trust her with who I truly am for so long, the only time I missed her was when I was sobbing and wanted the familiarity of her comfort. 

Now she's some stranger telling me we had an amazing season of friendship. 

HAD.

Our season. 

HELLO!!

WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO ME LIKE IM SOME STRANGER IN SOME DAMN YOGI CLASS THIS IS ME WHY ARE YOU BEING SO FAKE WE USED TO BE US WHERE IS MY FRIEND

But fine. 

Fucking fine. 

Seasons. 

Let me tell you about my current season. 

I don't wear makeup to work anymore.

I don't care. 

Anymore. 

About things that used to matter.  

I'm a mess. 

I'm depressed and discouraged and I don't know what to believe about anything anymore. 

I'm heartbroken. 

I don't believe in love. 

I believe in pain. 

I'm lost and I'm hurting and the last time I reached out to you and we talked on the phone I hung up and I felt like shit. 

You made me feel like absolute shit. 

Because you don't understand me at all anymore. 

And everything you had to say was such harsh criticism, I couldn't believe you were talking to me that way. 

And that's my fault. 

It's my fault you pushed me away and never let me know what was going on. 

I'm sorry I don't have a boyfriend and I'm sorry I don't work out every day. 

I'm sorry I don't eat enough kale and I'm so so goddamn sorry I missed your fucking concert. 

If I knew you were going to kick me out of your life because of it I would have gone. 

But why would it even matter if I was there when I'm not your family anymore?

If you don't need me to be a part of what you're feeling or what you're dealing with, if you don't need me the ways you used to, why do you think I would assume I need to be there for some event that has nothing to do with me?

That event was for family. 

And I'm just people, remember?

You've been pushing people away. 

I'm one of the mass of faces. 

I've stopped being your person for months now. 

No, no, this is so completely fucked up.

You are doing EXACTLY what every man whose broken my heart has done. 

Exactly. 

Knowingly. 

Intentionally. 

The very way you know, cuts my heart. 

Shut me out. 

Stopped communicating. 

So you can balance your chi.

While I'm not okay. 

While you don't care that I'm not okay. 

And maybe one day, maybe one day, you'll send me another feigned text, and we can meet for chai, cuz you would never dare drink coffee, and we can pretend we give two fucks that we have even less in common, that we have become absolute fucking strangers, because you decided to dump me.

During the time I needed you more than I ever have. 

Love to you?

No.

Keep your lies. 

I have nothing more to say to you. 

some other time

That fucking sadness.

Creeping up on me and smacking me upside the head.

Totally fine. 

And then WHAM.

I can't breathe. 

Fucking hell I can't fucking breathe. 

And I was driving. 

Why am I always driving when I can't stop crying?

And then I suddenly thought

Of her. 

Memories flooded my mind of countless hugs, years of men who'd broken my heart, who didn't want me, but her arms were always open.  

She always met me when I needed someone to hold my hand. 

To walk with me. 

To believe there was a man somewhere who would not run. 

And I wanted to go to her. 

Wanted her arms to comfort me again. 

Wanted some semblance of familiar comfort in this constant change.

And I started to. 

Go to her. 

And then a pang hit my heart, a nerve I'd never felt before. 

As quickly as I'd longed for her it began to fade away. 

I imagined her standing there looking back at me like What are you doing here

And I didn't trust her

Know her

Believe she would believe for me anymore. 

So I kept driving

I drove to arms that were new but that my heart trusted implicitly. 

And she believed for me

And she held my hand and walked with me

And I felt my heart long for her once more so I sent a text

I love you

And she never said it back 

My heart cried out for her as far apart as our hearts now are

And her heart didn't hear mine

Or maybe it did

And it just had nothing to say