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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“7 Stages of Grief”

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So, I have been dealing with a breakup for the past year and a half. This was the relationship I never thought would end. I loved this boy and I have been grieving the loss of him from my life. I was curious what those stages of grief were, the ones I always hear about on TV and what not. I decided it would be helpful for me to identify which stages I have gone through to see how far I’ve come.

7 Stages of Grief:

  1. SHOCK & DENIAL – It took at least two weeks for me to really take in the fact the our relationship had ended. I was pretty clearly shocked and I wanted to deny it, but it was an undeniable fact that it was over. I was, however, in denial about how over it really was. I held on to hope in my mind that things would rekindle between us for far longer than I should have. I guess part of me holds onto those fantasies, but recognizes how silly they are.
  2. PAIN & GUILT – I felt pain and guilt very immediately and constantly for the entire length of time we have been apart thus far. Up until this point, and I’m sure going forward, I have had a notable pain in my chest, where a heart might normally be located. I felt a lot of guilt for pushing you away and for being the way I was. I knew you deserved so much better and I felt unworthy and ashamed of myself.
  3. ANGER & BARGAINING – Simultaneously, I felt apologetic and guilty for not being able to make us happy and I felt angry and resentful towards you for not loving me. I wanted to rationalize things in my mind but I couldn’t get past the fact that we were falling apart because of me. I knew I was to blame and I was angry with myself for ruining the best thing in my life.
  4. “DEPRESSION”, REFLECTION, LONELINESS – Depression was nothing new for me, but it was certainly intensified by the loss of my closest friend and only love I’ve ever been sure of. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I did wrong and how I could have possibly salvaged our relationship. I have realized a lot of things about myself and about how we functioned. I realize that I was never what you wanted, so there was no way I would ever make you happy. I have since embraced the notion of loneliness. I can easily find guys to have sex with, but that is not what I want to do. I am disgusted by the thought and anytime a guy tries to touch me, it makes me shudder.
  5. THE UPWARD TURN – In a sense, I have seen an upward turn. I have been able to focus on new things like preparing for grad school. I have been engrossed in my new job. I look forward to getting my own apartment when I move back to Boston after a while longer in New York. I have been having a crazy experience in New York. I have been trying to try a lot of new things and experience life. I’m certainly doing better than i was was this time a year ago, but I can’t say I’m totally better yet.
  6. RECONSTRUCTION & WORKING THROUGH – I guessI am probably in the midst of this step right now. I have a lot of reconstructing to do in my life with a lot of different relationships. I am sure there is someone, somewhere who loves me, who I love. I am sure that once my life becomes stable, things will fall into place and things will make more sense.
  7. ACCEPTANCE & HOPE – I look forward to this stage.

Someone Else

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As a child, I felt an overwhelming urge to be someone else.

I wanted, more than anything, to be the son my parents always wanted. I hoped to live in a time and place where the things I did mattered. I wished that I could have been a part of history. I imagined taking part in the revolutionary and civil wars. I pretended to be a young, Jewish girl escaping from concentration camps. I would wrap myself in a quilt and pretend I was hiding in the back of a cargo train; just trying to get away. I would barricade my door and play pretend for hours, but I was always summoned back to reality in some cruel way or another.

My sisters shared a disdain for me. I was the youngest; spoiled and bratty, as far as they’re concerned. They rarely let me join in on their games or watch TV with them. I yearned for their acceptance and for my parents’ affection; two things I now know I could never have. I wondered what it was like to be from a family like my friends’ at school. Their parents would hug them all the time, and they got along with their brothers and sisters. I felt like I was the only one who went home to be sad.

My parents never really hurt me. There were times when I was punished and I felt unloved, but my parents’ only fault was in my perception of their actions. I was too young to understand that my parents were people, too. They were struggling to raise four daughters. They put all of their own needs and desires aside so they could make sure we were okay. They did the best they could with what they had and they made it work. From where I was sitting, though, it felt like they had forgotten me.

I would lay awake at night wondering if my parents would ever come check on me. I wondered if anyone ever thought about me and if I really mattered at all. It didn’t feel like it. I felt invisible. I thought that, maybe, if something really big happened, they would remember how much they loved me.

I wanted to be one of the girls from my books. I wanted to be like my friends Joanna, Michelle, or Lauren. I wanted to be anyone but me. I wanted to have a different name, a different life, a different past. I wanted to be someone important, I felt so small and insignificant.

I would continue to manifest this desire to matter to someone else. I would try to be someone’s very best friend. I would try to be the smartest, coolest, most interesting person I could be. I was dishonest to myself because I was so desperate for companionship and praise. I needed someone to remind me of my importance. Simply being important would mean nothing without recognition. I needed recognition and affirmation that I was doing something right; that my presence was making a difference somehow.

Of course, your presence doesn’t make much of a difference when you don’t do anything. I spent my time passively waiting for someone to affirm my existence. Maybe I should’ve made an effort to positively influence someone else.


Over the years, I have wasted so much time wishing to be someone else and hating who I am. I’ve wished that I could be anyone more worthy of life for as long as I can remember. I have done myself a great disservice by neglecting my true needs. I have pushed aside that sad, little girl who just needed a hug, and I tried to replace her with someone who didn’t need anything from anyone.

I devoted myself to my new external persona. I displayed myself as a tough, cruel, heartless person. I was not afraid of anything because I believed the biggest threat to my well-being was my own actions. I was right in more ways than one.

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.

Two Years Ago Today…

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I believed I would be preparing for a big move soon. I fantasized about graduating from college with my one true love and moving away together for grad school. We would find an apartment together and be happy. I imagined a world where we grew together as a unit of some sort. Perhaps a romantic couple? This was how life was looking and how I truly hoped it would go.
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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.