Years Pass, But Some Things Never Change

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I suppose I could take the memory of you and lock it up in a black box and toss it into the darkness.
I can pretend you never reached through the sharp, rugged exterior of my walls and touched the deepest, warmest, most sincere parts of my soul.
I can move forward without looking back at what we lost so soon after we found it.
I can find someone who will hold my hand and whisper secrets into my ear.
I can find someone who wants to wrap me in silver and diamonds and show me off.
I can do anything I want, really, but I can’t go back.
I can’t have your sweet scent or your soft touch ever again.
I’m not ready to say goodbye to my dear friends, the sweet sensations that made my days feel more worthwhile.
I’m afraid to let go of the only hands that held me when I cried, and opened the door to my future only to back out behind me.
I will never have you again, but I’ll be scarred by your memory and I’ll wear it proudly like all the rest.
I only wish I could leave my mark on you as you have on me.
I can only hope that you’ll think of me from time to time and miss me, like I miss you.
I can only hope one day you realize that you loved me, as I loved you, as I still do
and probably always will.

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Seeking Salvation

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Do you recall the moment?
The one in which you know
Without any clear sign
Exactly which way to go?

When strangers come to be
A person who we must
Attend to with full engrossment
As we gaze; eyes full of lust.

Grab hold of my hand;
Its reach fully extended.
Take notice of my heart;
This breaking can’t be mended.

I once yearned for understanding,
Now its acceptance for which I seek.
I can’t influence your actions;
Only what they mean to me.

Resistance.

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As a child I had a strong resistance to growing up. I watched my three older sisters transform before my eyes from innocent young children to rebellious teenagers. I was afraid to be like them. I never wanted to be a teenager or an adult; to me they were evil and scary. They got older and they were meaner to me, because they got cooler and I stayed a little kid.

 

I got older too, though. It didn’t matter how hard I fought it, I couldn’t resist time. I was forced to grow up because I had to deal with some grown up situations. Once I got through all of that, I felt invincible. I hated that feeling. I wanted to feel vulnerable again, like when I was a child, or like when I thought I was in love. I wanted to have a light heart and to smile. Instead my days were full of anger and hatred. I hated everyone else and I hated myself. I hated the world because I felt alone and afraid. I wanted the rest of the world to feel as bad as I did, since I couldn’t feel as good as them. I would never be as good as everyone else. I had been mistreated throughout the years by many people who claimed to love me. I felt like love, too, was evil. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.

 

I resisted love for as long as I could. I had boyfriends who loved me and I could never love them back. I knew they would ultimately hurt me, so I wouldn’t let them, and instead I hurt them. I walked away and started over somewhere new. I always wanted that feeling but I was afraid of what would come next. I ran from the pain I knew was coming, but I craved the vulnerability.

 

Once an opportunity struck, I grabbed hold with all my might. There was a man who, when I met him, was just a boy. He was quiet and shy. He was brilliant and hard working. He admired things about me I didn’t ever recognize until he pointed them out. He was sweet and he loved his mother. This was very important to me; a man’s relationship with his mother says a lot about how he will treat you. He was defensive and loving with her. He wanted to guard her, but she was strong. She did not need his protection, she only wanted his love. He was not an affectionate person, and I imagine even his mother wishes he would be more open with her.

 

He resisted love, too. He wanted affection but he did not want to dish it out, himself. He ultimately ran away, just like I always did. We are more alike than I thought. I resist the idea that we were meant to be because, well, we can’t be.

 

I resist the feelings of emptiness that follow any memory of him. I resist the urge to reach out to him. Instead, I look blindly towards the future, hoping that he was never right for me. I hope for something better to come along, or not. I hope for isolation to become peaceful. I hope for my heart to someday be overflowing with joy like it has in the past.

 

I wonder if I will ever feel so happy as when I was gazing at the stars by your side the very first time.