Staircase girl
To Accompany my bad angsty poetry:
I.
There are eraser shavings all over my things,
My dog is away at my mother's house,
On my loneliest night of the year,
I have so very much work to do,
So naturally...
I'm feeling inspired.
II.
I fell so hard and fast for a man
and no matter how badly he wanted to,
he couldn't carry it all.
He couldn't receive it.
He hurt me a lot, crushed me.
Beyond repair, I sometimes think...
I wasn't his victim, though. I was his captor.
He was only trying to escape from under
all of the things I loaded onto his ribs
I was crushing his lungs...
He couldn't breathe because of me,
but that didn't stop me from spending everything
to convince him
and myself
that he couldn't breathe
without me.
We both had so much love and no where to put it all
so it just constantly swirled around us, just out of reach...
It was like being in the eye of a hurricane.
I wanted to run, to escape...but I was surrounded by storming winds
So I stayed in and equated a torrential storm with safe warm hug.
I didn't at first, but now I understand
why he was struggling so hard,
why he wanted to escape.
It still hurts, though. It still hurts at 4:00AM
some years and months later.
In the midst of another classic love story.
It still aches and smarts in the worst way.
The tears on my cheek are relics,
Some for today and some for yesterday.
The first man I loved,
He was everything I never wanted.
He was a misfit, my opposite,
We spent years breaking each other down.
I will never love like that again. I'd bet all my years on it.
It's probably best, I likely wouldn't survive it all again.
Fuck though, I still long for it.
I miss him all the time, the way he made me laugh,
how angry he could make me.
He never let me get away with anything,
He always helped me grow.
He didn't let me feel sorry for myself,
He didn't let me give up.
So we sat on a tear-soaked blanket
on a cold and rocky beach
until I just let the waves carry him away
telling myself all the while that
we'd
make
it back
to each other
one day.
We both have new partners,
and I only hope she's better than me.
What I really hope though,
is that if she is better than me,
and if she does love him like I do, or I did, or I don't know,
I just hope that he can hold it all.
I hope that he can clear out some of the hurt that lives in him,
some of the hate, and some of the mad,
I hope he has space in his heart for whatever she can give him
and I hope it's just so much more than mine.
I hope she has less hurt,
and less mad,
and less taint on her love,
I hope it's perfect and
I hope it's better than he or
I could ever be for each other.
I hope.
III.
My partner and I got in a tiff on the phone tonight,
I was really just tired and scared,
...How my fights always start.
I need reassurance sometimes,
and he's just so sure.
If I drew up a list of everything I ever wanted or needed,
It would look,
smell, sound,
and feel
exactly like him.
He's what I need.
Maybe I'm looking for holes because it doesn't feel as red.
Maybe I'm making holes because I've always been broken,
Maybe I just needed some rest and some hot food.
We don't ever have anything to fight over. I guess I should be grateful.
I just stir things up sometimes. Homage to you.
I miss the white hot intensity that permeated all the mundane bullshit.
He really is home but I don't feel loveable.
Thinking too much, ruining who you love,
Conor Oberst cautioned against this....
I'm sure at least 85% of this is an obra of my brain
but I don't see his love. It's sure as fuck not burning my skin
and it's not making my heart race and palpitate.
I don't feel special anymore. I feel average, and to me there's nothing worse.
Does that mean he doesn't love me, or... I am just insecure?
How can I make this his fault? Can I make it mine?
I have spent the worse part of the last two weeks
collecting evidence to prove to myself that he doesn't love me
and the only thing I've gotten so far is proof.
You'll always find what you're looking for.
IV.
Today is the first time in a while that I really, really thought about killing myself.
Not because of him, or him. I can't explain it.
Maybe it has something to do with leaving the mountains of Colorado
to come back to Connecticut.
Connecticut is fine and all,
It's safe,
It's practical, it's where my dog is,
and my job, my friends,
my... Life...
but it's not up in the thin air where it hurts to run.
Where you're forced to be still.
It was open, I was small, and everything felt new.
Coming back from Colorado is a metaphor for making
the practical choice, when everything in me is
begging me to throw caution to the wind, and fuck pragmatism.
Drive to his house and wake him up. Tell him the thoughts in your head.
Wake his girlfriend up. Throw away your future.
Tell yourself you're just going to see the cat that y'all jointly own.
Be reckless, and selfish, and "romantic,"
it always works out in the movies.
I'm just hurting. I wish I didn't think about him, ever.
I'm depressed. I haven't taken my medication in some time now. I'm not sure why, I just forgot for a while and then decided that I wasn't going to start up again. That could be the problem, but it just doesn't feel like a problem I'm willing to do anything about.
It's not like the world needs more lawyers anyway...
V.
I feel empty.
The mountains laughed at my plans and my printable calendars, I might as well laugh along.
My partner put me in second place today and I don't think I blame him because that's where I'd put me too. I'm just so tired.
I feel so god damn average.
VI.
Remember the feeling you got in your stomach?
You weren't sure if it was love or hate, or something new altogether?
WAS THERE EVEN A WORD FOR THIS?
When you wanted everything to change but couldn't dream of letting go?
The feeling that everything was on fire, in the good and bad ways...
That everything was either always ending
or always beginning,
Passionate, unsustainable, aching love.
When you want to give someone everything.
When you want them to have nothing, except for you.
When you want them to be so happy, always,
but you can't forgive yourself, you can't get out of the way
and so you just crush them, and yourself, and
you don't know how to say that you're so so sorry so you
just feel angry, and agonize......
wish you never met him, finally apologize,
tell him how you wanna paint the moon with him,
Use some other vague, ossified metaphors
because you're so in love that literal just doesn't make sense,
tell him you hate him when he doesn't immediately forgive you,
start pushing him away because you're scared that he'll leave
and it's better for your ego if it's on your terms,
refuse to give up, refuse to let go,
walk away,
run back, beg
sunset...
Is that even love?
It sure as fuck felt like it to me at the time.
It feels like it right now.
There are dried tears on my both of my cheeks
And a rather imposing knot in my stomach.
It feels like hunger but tastes like blood, and I'm sick.
I love you.
VII.
I miss the liar.
I used to rely so heavily on the lies you told me.
I don't mean to be pejorative. We both believed them...
My new partner tells me only the truth and I believe him too.
There is something poetic and shameful about wounded narcissists.
I feel so depressed.
I just need something to fucking adore me.
I haven't felt this pathetic in a while.
I haven't ever felt enough weakness/strength to admit
that I need help, I need love.
I'm starved.
I.
There are eraser shavings all over my things,
My dog is away at my mother's house,
On my loneliest night of the year,
I have so very much work to do,
So naturally...
I'm feeling inspired.
II.
I fell so hard and fast for a man
and no matter how badly he wanted to,
he couldn't carry it all.
He couldn't receive it.
He hurt me a lot, crushed me.
Beyond repair, I sometimes think...
I wasn't his victim, though. I was his captor.
He was only trying to escape from under
all of the things I loaded onto his ribs
I was crushing his lungs...
He couldn't breathe because of me,
but that didn't stop me from spending everything
to convince him
and myself
that he couldn't breathe
without me.
We both had so much love and no where to put it all
so it just constantly swirled around us, just out of reach...
It was like being in the eye of a hurricane.
I wanted to run, to escape...but I was surrounded by storming winds
So I stayed in and equated a torrential storm with safe warm hug.
I didn't at first, but now I understand
why he was struggling so hard,
why he wanted to escape.
It still hurts, though. It still hurts at 4:00AM
some years and months later.
In the midst of another classic love story.
It still aches and smarts in the worst way.
The tears on my cheek are relics,
Some for today and some for yesterday.
The first man I loved,
He was everything I never wanted.
He was a misfit, my opposite,
We spent years breaking each other down.
I will never love like that again. I'd bet all my years on it.
It's probably best, I likely wouldn't survive it all again.
Fuck though, I still long for it.
I miss him all the time, the way he made me laugh,
how angry he could make me.
He never let me get away with anything,
He always helped me grow.
He didn't let me feel sorry for myself,
He didn't let me give up.
So we sat on a tear-soaked blanket
on a cold and rocky beach
until I just let the waves carry him away
telling myself all the while that
we'd
make
it back
to each other
one day.
We both have new partners,
and I only hope she's better than me.
What I really hope though,
is that if she is better than me,
and if she does love him like I do, or I did, or I don't know,
I just hope that he can hold it all.
I hope that he can clear out some of the hurt that lives in him,
some of the hate, and some of the mad,
I hope he has space in his heart for whatever she can give him
and I hope it's just so much more than mine.
I hope she has less hurt,
and less mad,
and less taint on her love,
I hope it's perfect and
I hope it's better than he or
I could ever be for each other.
I hope.
III.
My partner and I got in a tiff on the phone tonight,
I was really just tired and scared,
...How my fights always start.
I need reassurance sometimes,
and he's just so sure.
If I drew up a list of everything I ever wanted or needed,
It would look,
smell, sound,
and feel
exactly like him.
He's what I need.
Maybe I'm looking for holes because it doesn't feel as red.
Maybe I'm making holes because I've always been broken,
Maybe I just needed some rest and some hot food.
We don't ever have anything to fight over. I guess I should be grateful.
I just stir things up sometimes. Homage to you.
I miss the white hot intensity that permeated all the mundane bullshit.
He really is home but I don't feel loveable.
Thinking too much, ruining who you love,
Conor Oberst cautioned against this....
I'm sure at least 85% of this is an obra of my brain
but I don't see his love. It's sure as fuck not burning my skin
and it's not making my heart race and palpitate.
I don't feel special anymore. I feel average, and to me there's nothing worse.
Does that mean he doesn't love me, or... I am just insecure?
How can I make this his fault? Can I make it mine?
I have spent the worse part of the last two weeks
collecting evidence to prove to myself that he doesn't love me
and the only thing I've gotten so far is proof.
You'll always find what you're looking for.
IV.
Today is the first time in a while that I really, really thought about killing myself.
Not because of him, or him. I can't explain it.
Maybe it has something to do with leaving the mountains of Colorado
to come back to Connecticut.
Connecticut is fine and all,
It's safe,
It's practical, it's where my dog is,
and my job, my friends,
my... Life...
but it's not up in the thin air where it hurts to run.
Where you're forced to be still.
It was open, I was small, and everything felt new.
Coming back from Colorado is a metaphor for making
the practical choice, when everything in me is
begging me to throw caution to the wind, and fuck pragmatism.
Drive to his house and wake him up. Tell him the thoughts in your head.
Wake his girlfriend up. Throw away your future.
Tell yourself you're just going to see the cat that y'all jointly own.
Be reckless, and selfish, and "romantic,"
it always works out in the movies.
I'm just hurting. I wish I didn't think about him, ever.
I'm depressed. I haven't taken my medication in some time now. I'm not sure why, I just forgot for a while and then decided that I wasn't going to start up again. That could be the problem, but it just doesn't feel like a problem I'm willing to do anything about.
It's not like the world needs more lawyers anyway...
V.
I feel empty.
The mountains laughed at my plans and my printable calendars, I might as well laugh along.
My partner put me in second place today and I don't think I blame him because that's where I'd put me too. I'm just so tired.
I feel so god damn average.
VI.
Remember the feeling you got in your stomach?
You weren't sure if it was love or hate, or something new altogether?
WAS THERE EVEN A WORD FOR THIS?
When you wanted everything to change but couldn't dream of letting go?
The feeling that everything was on fire, in the good and bad ways...
That everything was either always ending
or always beginning,
Passionate, unsustainable, aching love.
When you want to give someone everything.
When you want them to have nothing, except for you.
When you want them to be so happy, always,
but you can't forgive yourself, you can't get out of the way
and so you just crush them, and yourself, and
you don't know how to say that you're so so sorry so you
just feel angry, and agonize......
wish you never met him, finally apologize,
tell him how you wanna paint the moon with him,
Use some other vague, ossified metaphors
because you're so in love that literal just doesn't make sense,
tell him you hate him when he doesn't immediately forgive you,
start pushing him away because you're scared that he'll leave
and it's better for your ego if it's on your terms,
refuse to give up, refuse to let go,
walk away,
run back, beg
sunset...
Is that even love?
It sure as fuck felt like it to me at the time.
It feels like it right now.
There are dried tears on my both of my cheeks
And a rather imposing knot in my stomach.
It feels like hunger but tastes like blood, and I'm sick.
I love you.
VII.
I miss the liar.
I used to rely so heavily on the lies you told me.
I don't mean to be pejorative. We both believed them...
My new partner tells me only the truth and I believe him too.
There is something poetic and shameful about wounded narcissists.
I feel so depressed.
I just need something to fucking adore me.
I haven't felt this pathetic in a while.
I haven't ever felt enough weakness/strength to admit
that I need help, I need love.
I'm starved.
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