stories to tell

  I bought this card. Wrote a heartfelt apology. Then I didn’t deliver it. Not because I didn’t want to apologize anymore but because I believe I didn’t need to anymore. I think the awkwardness of the apology would be a worse offense to them than not apologizing. So I left it at that. Still, the card was pretty and I liked it so here it is.  I am definitely an overdramatic person. 

 She stood with her back to the ocean, her toes slowly sinking in the sand. Her sun dyed hair danced all around her, seemingly transitioning from wavy to curly. Sometimes little wisps would stick to her cheeks and she would remove them with care as she was already feeling the pain of a little sunburn. Her mind wandered to her youth, when she waited for her dad to pick her up from summer camp. The day had been hot, too hot. It was hard to distinguish between sweat and the salty ocean that lingered in her skin still. She knew the day was ending but felt comfortably paralyzed, in a place between the ocean and the earth. Embraced in a worldly blanket.  She smiled as the satisfaction of the lazy day rumbled through her body. Her mind was moving slowly and lazily. Her shoulders were relaxed and heavy, tanned and firm from all the early morning swims. Her hands soft from playing with the sand, making silly castles and moats. Her belly was patterned with tan lines from different swims...

 Why am I in love with you? Because you’re intelligent. You are smart and witty and in the chaos that I portray you seem to understand me. Reflecting on myself, I think I create that conversational chaos to keep people at a distance. A friendly way to keep to myself. But for those that easily see through my silliness (which to be honest is not that difficult), I end up admiring. The communication deepens and i feel at ease and relaxed and myself. I make friends this way.  But then I felt seen—deeper than I thought. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I wanted it to be true. Regardless, I fell in love. The more I got to know you, the more your intelligence shone. I fell deeply for your brain, for your words, for your thoughts.  I wish I could tell you this, but life is weird and messy and this kind of admiration is left for those consumption riddled 18th century writers. And I don’t want to be weird.

What would my younger self think of my life? I gaslit myself into thinking what I do is somehow a creative outlet. It’s not. I am just another cog in the dumb machine. And I think I’m too exhausted or boring to do anything that makes my life worth it to me. In my head my friendships keep slipping away. As time passes I keep alienating my relationships. Even those that I thought were the most important. From a community to loneliness. That could be the title of my autobiography.  I miss what potential I once had. I’m in my twilight having made nothing. The sands of time have no edge to erode away. Who would want to be around me? I am old and tired. Makes me boring. I need to find other old people. 

 I don’t know how to distinguish love. I am a failure of a human. 

 Some days like today I feel I’m a broken puzzle piece. I think about where I belong and I find myself lacking any space. Everything seems forced and I feel bad about myself. It makes me want to leave. I feel or imagine all my friends are slowly retreating away from me. And I understand why. I don’t like me either. I am dumb, arrogant, stubborn, delusional; an idiot pretending to be likable. But people know. There’s just too much time or social pressure out just gentleness by those who know me to sever ties immediately with me. I am sorry to you all. I thought I could be good company but deep down I know I’m just a garbage human. I want to stop torturing you.  I don’t deserve friends or family. I have been daydreaming lately of never having existed at all. Everyday I just wish I could cease to be. But I hate myself so much that I don’t even make my wishes come true. I just continue in this world. Constantly knowing I do not contribute anything good. Anything unique. Any joy to...

 I don’t like you anymore. But every time I think of you my mind blanks out on everything else.  I always think of you.  I like you still. But whenever I hear you the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like soldiers after reverie.  I hear you sing  even in my dreams.  You never liked me. But the laughter and camaraderie were warmth for those lonely days.  You were always a little by yourself.  You liked me. But only on ways that meant we could always keep a distance.  You are now so far away that oceans drown our voices. 

 hay alguien que verderamente me extrañaria? si mi corazon dejara de latir, que alma sentiria tristeza por el silencio? si no existiera un mas respiro en mis pulmones, habria un corazon esperando mi oxigeno? [el silencio es enorme en esta habitacion, oscura y callada]

 I will miss this place. In this corner by the pine tree I feel secluded from the passersby. The lake breeze feels like a cozy blanket, not hot or cold but just right. The rustling of the nearby bushes lead me to ponder whether it’s birds or bunnies or just the wind dancing with the leaves.  Dancing how I dreamt of dancing with you. With out bodies close and moving filled with whimsy and fun. A smile on both of our faces as we step a little off beat.  But it was a dream I had while sitting in this spot. A dream that was just as dumb as hoping for world peace. As I sit here I keep thinking I will miss this place. It brings me peace and joy still. The people canoeing exist in a bubble floating away with what I can only imagine is effervescent happiness. Or pure zen.  But I feel the tug of the next space. I am finished here and all my dreams are vanishing as I wake up to my depleted existence. I’ve done it all I feel. I’ve been happy, sad, in love, heartbroken. I’ve lea...