I sit on my dining table and can't help but stare at the screen of my laptop, then stare into the dark abyss, then to the screen of my phone, and back to the dark abyss. To think that maybe one minute I'll receive the text, or the phone call, when in reality it will never happen. Each time I look somewhere other than the truth in the blood and tears, I constantly create a false hope for myself, for the life I dream of. Not only is it the what if's, but now it's the why's. I can't help but wonder why. Why can't life just be easy, simple? When did things get so fucking difficult? Was it the drugs? Is it the unfathomable standards depicted in the films? Why? It's always the question. Why are you like this? Why am I like this? Why is it like this? What if we didn't fall for each other? What if we didn't grow to love each other? What if we didn't build a life together? What if we never kissed? What if we never smiled at each other? What if we never noticed the fact that we both share the same gummy smile? You know, the one where you smile and nothing but the top gums show. What if we never met in that bar? Would my life have been better or worse? Would your life have been better or worse? It's the not knowing that kills me. I was content before we fell in love. I was beginning to accept what my life was at the time. 2019 was a rollercoaster. As so was 2020. I was young and dumb. I was young and living, actually living. I was just beginning to tolerate life again. These days, I am barely breathing. It hurts to breathe around you sometimes. Other times, it hurts to breathe when you're not around. You were oftentimes the one to remind me to actually breathe in and out. I don't know what's worse; to think of the better life I would have had by now had I not let you in (and vise versa; to think of the better life you would have had by now had you not pursued the inevitable) or to lose what I thought was a definite promise? It toggles too often in this cluttered brain of mine. I'm falling deeper as the days pass. It's not your fault, but it's mine. You should never rest all your eggs in one basket -- that's for sure.
Tupac once said,
You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could have, would have happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on."
Forcing yourself to stay strong enough for all -- it sucks. When you not only lose a best friend, but family, as well. You go from spending each day with the person, to then having to get used to not even smiling at them anymore. Isn't that so funny? To pretend like you don't know the one person who knows you best. To act like it was all for nothing. To have to start a new life without the one person who made your life better? To take a deep breathe in order to prepare for the new life adjustments? Life is really full of lessons. It's one of the the only guarantees in life... other than yourself. But, how many lessons to individuals do we need to be until it's finally our turn to win, to be happy? Are some people only created to be lessons? Are some people only meant to be the one that got away? Who knows. I mean, I guess that's why people don't give up. It's hard not to, though. But, fuck it. We've got to move the fuck on.
Some people say things such as, "you're falling, but in my arms you'll land." It sounds nice. It sounds like the person saying it actually cares about you. It sounds like well intentions. That's the thing, though. All love is conditional. No love is unconditional, unlike our own. You find the truest best friend in yourself, the best teacher in yourself, the best light in yourself. No one else is meant to be that for you. Maybe there is someone, but that's tricky. It's conditional. Everything in the world is conditional and conditioned. We can't help it. It's nature. Once again, one of the only guarantees in life.
I don't know what you're thinking anymore. I don't even know who you are anymore, so I shouldn't know your thoughts... but fuck, it sure would be nice to know you're hurting as much as me, if not more. That's selfish, though. Well, you actually taught me I need to be more selfish; however, trying to be selfish with you feels like a crime against humanity. Being selfish is definitely a guarantee in life, as well. Thankfully, you taught me that I actually need to be selfish in this life to survive...
Speaking of survival, Congratulations. Survival of the fittest. You are truly the fittest of all. You've used all the past tactics and then some. You have finally leveled up to whatever it is you were trying to reach or accomplish; however, I am not fit. I'm not fit for your journey, and unfortunately for me, we learned the hard way. It was a good run. You beat me. Somewhere along the race, I tripped and fell. I fell and didn't land in your arms, nor in my arms. I actually still don't know where it is I landed. I am having trouble trying to figure that out as I type. It's a constant struggle. Who would have thought? I actually got lost somewhere along the race. I wouldn't say journey. You have a whole journey ahead of you in a few years. For now, I know you'll compete in a few other races. I just hope you don't cheat to win. Cheaters never win. I am nowhere as smart or strong as you. I probably never will be. You trained differently in your earlier years. You had the advantage, and I wish I had seen it earlier, because not only do I feel lost, but these cuts and bruises are more severe than I thought. Who knows? Maybe if I lay long enough on the floor and hope for the best, I'll be the small yellow tulip that grew from the concrete. I don't regret the race; however, sometimes I wish we ended it all during the practices. But, I'm officially done with races. I'd like to stroll along the beach at night, under the moonlight, in pure silence and darkness.. by myself. I'm all I ever need nowadays to feel complete, either way.
This letter will never be complete. As days pass, the more words I spew out, the more ink is spilled. Some days I talk to the wall and just talk for ages. Other days, I just lay in the dark and stare up to the ceiling wondering where I should go. Should I go to Canada? Or Amsterdam? Find me where the tulips are. Find me where the sand is, or find me somewhere other than New York City. Wherever I end up, I just hope it's in my own arms.
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