"I dunno," I said, "I agree it's not stupid but you're right, I don't think so either. I guess I just think your soul mate must be somebody who...doesn't need you to be someone you aren't."
"Right," you agreed, "Like someone who loves you just the way you are."
"No," I said, "Like someone who doesn't need you to be someone you aren't."
"Isn't that the same thing?" you smiled.
"No," I repeated.
"They sound like the same thing to me," you kept grinning.
And the joke was lost on me. I couldn't smile even if I wanted to. It wasn't funny. So instead I looked away. "Well they're not," I said, and finally could see from the edge of my eye your smile slowly fading.
Maybe I could've been kinder. But
yknow
They're not.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
200 - Love Letters
Dear 1, I still think
that flower was romantic.
There's only so much a third grader can offer anyone, really. I'm sorry you weren't feeling it, I would've been a really good influence on you. It's unfortunate you're still in CEGEP. Keep at it. All the best.
Dear 2, I still think
about you
when I'm happy, or feeling lost, nostalgic. I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable telling me you weren't, but I don't personally regret much. We should try to be friends, you know, when we can get over all this. It was all I wanted. You were, are, an even better influence on me than you realize. I wish you nothing but a life of bliss, truly. Please keep me warm in your thoughts always.
Dear 3, I still think
we would've been really good together.
Nothing long term, oh goodness no, I don't think we would've ever fallen in love, but we could've been very happy. We're not good friends anymore because I got a bit disillusioned with you, but you're going to make someone very lucky one day, being the catch that you are. Keep in touch.
Dear 4, I still think
I could've treated you better.
I'm sorry, and I promise I've gotten better at casual dates, and dating, now. It wasn't you or me, you know, we just spent so much time being who we thought the other one wanted we didn't realize we just weren't well suited. Hope you're well, though.
Dear 5, I still think
you know how I felt about you.
I even kind of told you, eh? That one night, and you were really very quite lovely about it. I'll probably never really say it outright, but I'm glad if I did, you wouldn't be surprised. I know we'll always be friends, and that's definitely how we should stay. See you soon.
Dear 6, I still think
you know me better than I know myself.
And to be honest, I'm glad you've stopped drinking around me. I wish you'd be a bit happier for me, but I can understand how you might not be. It's still weird for me, sometimes, to see you with her. I hope we can stay close though, because it's possible, and we were doing so well there, for a while, remember?
Dear 7, I still think
you played me.
Maybe you honestly did like me too, but not as much as you liked my attention. I'm sorry you're so neglected, but I don't miss you much, to be honest. I hope you can stick that nose into my business sometime and realize I'm quite happy, and I was right about you. You're not.
Dear 8, I still think
you missed out on me.
It's hard to think of what could've come of us, since I think we're really good now, but if you wanted, I think I could've made you happy. Maybe not. I'm not sorry I tried, and tested the waters, but you really weren't interested, eh? I hope you go for the real thing, you know, if and when the time comes. Take care.
Dear 9, I still think
you're not as straight as you've convinced yourself you are.
And this is not to say I think you're a liar, or I know you better than you do, but something isn't right, and I know you must feel that, too. I remember the makeup, shaking hands, fluttering eyelids and careful words in romantic texts. Please please please don't lie to yourself. Be happy. It wasn't me, but it isn't going to be a boy, either.
Dear 10, I still think
I probably would've kissed you back had you ever tried.
But that wouldn't have been right, would it? We're good as friends, you know? I do have some feelings for you, but trust that you're not the one for me, friend. You're destined for a very different person, maybe a guy. I don't think I'd like him very much, but you will. Stay sane and keep me posted.
Dear 11, I still think
we handled that car wreck of a date phenomenally well.
I wasn't feeling it because I was so head over heels for someone else, obviously, but when you have so little to no levels of chemistry like that, should we even be friends? I think you're amazing, though, you know? You really are. Don't ever think I don't. You're amazing, but maybe next time a wave will do.
Dear 12, I still think
what I told you that night
and maybe I always will. I'd like to. And I think that counts for everything. I don't know if I feel that, but I know that I want it to be, and I think that's healthier. And when I'm with you, I feel old, and young, and terrified, and safe, and lost, but found, and home. You still, everytime, smell like patience, and time.
that flower was romantic.
There's only so much a third grader can offer anyone, really. I'm sorry you weren't feeling it, I would've been a really good influence on you. It's unfortunate you're still in CEGEP. Keep at it. All the best.
Dear 2, I still think
about you
when I'm happy, or feeling lost, nostalgic. I'm sorry you didn't feel comfortable telling me you weren't, but I don't personally regret much. We should try to be friends, you know, when we can get over all this. It was all I wanted. You were, are, an even better influence on me than you realize. I wish you nothing but a life of bliss, truly. Please keep me warm in your thoughts always.
Dear 3, I still think
we would've been really good together.
Nothing long term, oh goodness no, I don't think we would've ever fallen in love, but we could've been very happy. We're not good friends anymore because I got a bit disillusioned with you, but you're going to make someone very lucky one day, being the catch that you are. Keep in touch.
Dear 4, I still think
I could've treated you better.
I'm sorry, and I promise I've gotten better at casual dates, and dating, now. It wasn't you or me, you know, we just spent so much time being who we thought the other one wanted we didn't realize we just weren't well suited. Hope you're well, though.
Dear 5, I still think
you know how I felt about you.
I even kind of told you, eh? That one night, and you were really very quite lovely about it. I'll probably never really say it outright, but I'm glad if I did, you wouldn't be surprised. I know we'll always be friends, and that's definitely how we should stay. See you soon.
Dear 6, I still think
you know me better than I know myself.
And to be honest, I'm glad you've stopped drinking around me. I wish you'd be a bit happier for me, but I can understand how you might not be. It's still weird for me, sometimes, to see you with her. I hope we can stay close though, because it's possible, and we were doing so well there, for a while, remember?
Dear 7, I still think
you played me.
Maybe you honestly did like me too, but not as much as you liked my attention. I'm sorry you're so neglected, but I don't miss you much, to be honest. I hope you can stick that nose into my business sometime and realize I'm quite happy, and I was right about you. You're not.
Dear 8, I still think
you missed out on me.
It's hard to think of what could've come of us, since I think we're really good now, but if you wanted, I think I could've made you happy. Maybe not. I'm not sorry I tried, and tested the waters, but you really weren't interested, eh? I hope you go for the real thing, you know, if and when the time comes. Take care.
Dear 9, I still think
you're not as straight as you've convinced yourself you are.
And this is not to say I think you're a liar, or I know you better than you do, but something isn't right, and I know you must feel that, too. I remember the makeup, shaking hands, fluttering eyelids and careful words in romantic texts. Please please please don't lie to yourself. Be happy. It wasn't me, but it isn't going to be a boy, either.
Dear 10, I still think
I probably would've kissed you back had you ever tried.
But that wouldn't have been right, would it? We're good as friends, you know? I do have some feelings for you, but trust that you're not the one for me, friend. You're destined for a very different person, maybe a guy. I don't think I'd like him very much, but you will. Stay sane and keep me posted.
Dear 11, I still think
we handled that car wreck of a date phenomenally well.
I wasn't feeling it because I was so head over heels for someone else, obviously, but when you have so little to no levels of chemistry like that, should we even be friends? I think you're amazing, though, you know? You really are. Don't ever think I don't. You're amazing, but maybe next time a wave will do.
Dear 12, I still think
what I told you that night
and maybe I always will. I'd like to. And I think that counts for everything. I don't know if I feel that, but I know that I want it to be, and I think that's healthier. And when I'm with you, I feel old, and young, and terrified, and safe, and lost, but found, and home. You still, everytime, smell like patience, and time.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Nine
Please tell me what to say.
where to go.
who I am.
or
remind me.
maybe I'll call you.
where to go.
who I am.
or
remind me.
maybe I'll call you.
Monday, April 23, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Eight
I remember
I used to worry about finding someone
who'd ruin me.
Ruin my path. Throw me off.
be
illogical.
be
stupid.
Give up writing. Give up fame.fortune.connections.
the crowds.the parties.the people.
I used to worry about finding someone, because I did. I did find people. I did find a slew and more of people who made me want to sit down at long last, to put myself first, to consider a life in kitchens and bedrooms, instead of meetings and writing labs.
I worried, because instead of flirting, instead of smiling at those cute bartenders, instead of buying a beer for the costumer, instead of winking at the stage manager, instead of lingering a hand on a friend whose own gaze lingers on mine, dull restrictive predictable monogamy would've been enough. I found these people who gave me the possibility of a new life, a light blue life of new-ness, of family, of trust and dependency.
I used to worry that work could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that morality could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that life, my life, could be enough, if I satisfied one person.
If I could impress you, I didn't need anyone else.
If I could have you, I didn't need to do anything else.
I used to worry, because
that was horrible.
Relationships
feelings
are silly.unhealthy.
skewing.
and
now
I worry about
choosing things over you.
I think about choosing structure, and logicality. What does that even mean. I think about choosing schedules, and timelines. I worry about choosing 'right' paths, making 'right' decisions over you. I worry about balance. I worry about not putting you first, sometimes.
"Are you going to regret it?" she asked, and she looked at me like she already knew the answer. She looked at me like she was trying to tell me I already did, and would. She looked at me with the kindest of kind smiles and I felt
too old.
too old and foolish to have chosen success
over everything.
You are right.
For me.
For the future, you are everything that is logical.
Nothing makes sense unless you're there.
Nothing in this place we call 'future' looks, feels, right, unless you're there, too.
I've never felt this way before.
I used to worry about finding someone
who'd ruin me.
Ruin my path. Throw me off.
be
illogical.
be
stupid.
Give up writing. Give up fame.fortune.connections.
the crowds.the parties.the people.
I used to worry about finding someone, because I did. I did find people. I did find a slew and more of people who made me want to sit down at long last, to put myself first, to consider a life in kitchens and bedrooms, instead of meetings and writing labs.
I worried, because instead of flirting, instead of smiling at those cute bartenders, instead of buying a beer for the costumer, instead of winking at the stage manager, instead of lingering a hand on a friend whose own gaze lingers on mine, dull restrictive predictable monogamy would've been enough. I found these people who gave me the possibility of a new life, a light blue life of new-ness, of family, of trust and dependency.
I used to worry that work could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that morality could be substituted with love.
I used to worry that life, my life, could be enough, if I satisfied one person.
If I could impress you, I didn't need anyone else.
If I could have you, I didn't need to do anything else.
I used to worry, because
that was horrible.
Relationships
feelings
are silly.unhealthy.
skewing.
and
now
I worry about
choosing things over you.
I think about choosing structure, and logicality. What does that even mean. I think about choosing schedules, and timelines. I worry about choosing 'right' paths, making 'right' decisions over you. I worry about balance. I worry about not putting you first, sometimes.
"Are you going to regret it?" she asked, and she looked at me like she already knew the answer. She looked at me like she was trying to tell me I already did, and would. She looked at me with the kindest of kind smiles and I felt
too old.
too old and foolish to have chosen success
over everything.
You are right.
For me.
For the future, you are everything that is logical.
Nothing makes sense unless you're there.
Nothing in this place we call 'future' looks, feels, right, unless you're there, too.
I've never felt this way before.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Seven
I had a dream about you the other day.
I think I just
want you to feel that moment
so much.
I'd somehow travelled back in time to our first year right before February, maybe in early January. I'd gone into your building to visit a friend, a new friend, a friend I'd created in my mind, who lived on the ninth floor, and you on the twelfth.
It doesn't make sense, thinking back, I have no idea where you lived in first year, which floor, and certainly not twelve. But nonetheless we met on the elevator.
You'd gotten on right after me and we stood beside one another, and as the almost broken shaft slowly crossed the first floor I turned to you, observed the length of your hair, so different, but your profile still the same, the soft strings of your hair right behind your ears still the same, your ears still the same, your eyes always. You were looking away, at the slowly illuminating floor numbers, before noticing my gaze and slowly turning to me, wary.
"I'm sorry," I said, not looking away, "It's just that..."
You grew worried immediately, as though your fingers were ready to fly to a button to emergency stop this conversation, kick me out and be well on your way.
"You're beautiful," I finished, and I watched as your face turned from confusion to disbelief, but as you looked back into my eyes, still, always focused on you, you grew uncomfortable, to curious. "Hasn't anyone told you that today yet?" I asked.
And you shook your head.
"I'm sorry," I said again, and extended my hand to you, "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," you replied slowly, even slower at taking my hand and shaking it, and I heard a little intake of breath as our hands closed around one another, and I smiled to myself as I watched your eyes dance over me, your head running a thousand miles a minute. You wanted me to kiss you, but you didn't understand why. You'd kiss me back, but you didn't understand why. Yes you did. No you didn't. Yes you did.
We arrived at my floor and I released your hand, so warm, and murmured, "This is my floor."
You were silent, and only watched me go.
As the doors shut and I heard the elevator continue climbing up to yours, I smiled to myself again and travelled forward, back to the present, where I try my best to make certain someone tells you you're quite lovely, every day.
I think I just
want you to feel that moment
so much.
I'd somehow travelled back in time to our first year right before February, maybe in early January. I'd gone into your building to visit a friend, a new friend, a friend I'd created in my mind, who lived on the ninth floor, and you on the twelfth.
It doesn't make sense, thinking back, I have no idea where you lived in first year, which floor, and certainly not twelve. But nonetheless we met on the elevator.
You'd gotten on right after me and we stood beside one another, and as the almost broken shaft slowly crossed the first floor I turned to you, observed the length of your hair, so different, but your profile still the same, the soft strings of your hair right behind your ears still the same, your ears still the same, your eyes always. You were looking away, at the slowly illuminating floor numbers, before noticing my gaze and slowly turning to me, wary.
"I'm sorry," I said, not looking away, "It's just that..."
You grew worried immediately, as though your fingers were ready to fly to a button to emergency stop this conversation, kick me out and be well on your way.
"You're beautiful," I finished, and I watched as your face turned from confusion to disbelief, but as you looked back into my eyes, still, always focused on you, you grew uncomfortable, to curious. "Hasn't anyone told you that today yet?" I asked.
And you shook your head.
"I'm sorry," I said again, and extended my hand to you, "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," you replied slowly, even slower at taking my hand and shaking it, and I heard a little intake of breath as our hands closed around one another, and I smiled to myself as I watched your eyes dance over me, your head running a thousand miles a minute. You wanted me to kiss you, but you didn't understand why. You'd kiss me back, but you didn't understand why. Yes you did. No you didn't. Yes you did.
We arrived at my floor and I released your hand, so warm, and murmured, "This is my floor."
You were silent, and only watched me go.
As the doors shut and I heard the elevator continue climbing up to yours, I smiled to myself again and travelled forward, back to the present, where I try my best to make certain someone tells you you're quite lovely, every day.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Six
Maybe there's only enough room for one broken individual, in a relationship. It's not a question of co-dependence, but balance. Of fit. You can't put two messes together. You can't make something out of raw materials alone. Someone has to have a blueprint.
There has to be
some sort of balance.
when the gusts came around to blow me down,
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
There has to be
some sort of balance.
when the gusts came around to blow me down,
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
I held on as tightly as you held onto me.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Five
I'm so tempted to call you again.
I know I shouldn't.
I've just grown to forget the reason why sometimes.
Sometimes.
Not all the time.
But sometimes.
I just...miss you.
I miss you.
I have always missed you.
Isn't that a good enough reason?
Wasn't it always?
I remember when it was.
I remember
you told me you'd miss me.
I believed you
I know I shouldn't.
I've just grown to forget the reason why sometimes.
Sometimes.
Not all the time.
But sometimes.
I just...miss you.
I miss you.
I have always missed you.
Isn't that a good enough reason?
Wasn't it always?
I remember when it was.
I remember
you told me you'd miss me.
I believed you
but I still left.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Four
It'd be interesting to live one day in a world
where I can tell my kids
'People used to kill themselves.
People used to kill each other.
Because people loved each other.
Because there was so much love in the world
people thought they should take it out
with violence.'
It'd be interesting to live in a world
where it's no big deal
anymore.
where I can tell my kids
'People used to kill themselves.
People used to kill each other.
Because people loved each other.
Because there was so much love in the world
people thought they should take it out
with violence.'
It'd be interesting to live in a world
where it's no big deal
anymore.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Three
It was just a hi.
Your mother answered, though you answered last year, your father the year before that.
i don't remember further than that.
Your mother
(she liked me.
I remember she liked me
your sister did, too)
must've called you from upstairs
I was a bit off, this year. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.
Sorry. Life threw some curveballs.
I heard you, just loudly on the phone, a 'hi'
not a 'hello', as though you wondered who it was
as though you wanted to make sure no one hung up
no
a 'hi', with my name following swiftly.
You knew. You knew it was me. I know you knew. We know.
i've missed you.
can we get tea soon? please?
it's been too long.
We said none of these things.
I'm glad you're happy. I truly am. I want you to be.
It's all I've ever wanted for you.
be happy. be ecstatic. be joyful and loose and loving.
be loved.
be wonderful, everyday.
when someone asks you how you are reply 'wonderful'
reply 'wonderful, thank you, how are you?'
And I'm glad you'll be here, for a while.
Montreal would be different
for me
without you.
Maybe it wouldn't be Montreal
without you.
and I'll take you with me
you know?
wherever I go
I will always remember an 8pm call on 4/4.
I'll take you with me.
Your mother answered, though you answered last year, your father the year before that.
i don't remember further than that.
Your mother
(she liked me.
I remember she liked me
your sister did, too)
must've called you from upstairs
I was a bit off, this year. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.
Sorry. Life threw some curveballs.
I heard you, just loudly on the phone, a 'hi'
not a 'hello', as though you wondered who it was
as though you wanted to make sure no one hung up
no
a 'hi', with my name following swiftly.
You knew. You knew it was me. I know you knew. We know.
i've missed you.
can we get tea soon? please?
it's been too long.
We said none of these things.
I'm glad you're happy. I truly am. I want you to be.
It's all I've ever wanted for you.
be happy. be ecstatic. be joyful and loose and loving.
be loved.
be wonderful, everyday.
when someone asks you how you are reply 'wonderful'
reply 'wonderful, thank you, how are you?'
And I'm glad you'll be here, for a while.
Montreal would be different
for me
without you.
Maybe it wouldn't be Montreal
without you.
and I'll take you with me
you know?
wherever I go
I will always remember an 8pm call on 4/4.
I'll take you with me.
Friday, April 6, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety Two
I wonder what the chances are that I've actually got it right
this first time.
this first time.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
One Hundred and Ninety One
I still dream about you.
maybe I always will.
happy birthday.
I'll miss you.
maybe I always will.
happy birthday.
I'll miss you.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
One Hundred and Eighty Nine
I remember this one night
amongst friends.
Your hand on my knee, grazing and tracing
tracing and grazing
and I felt
anchored.
a moment
For some reason I'd slipped out of your reach and spoke to her, in a hushed tone, as she ate gingerly at her french fries. "Relationships," she said with a smack, "They should be..." she paused, "Easy. and reciprocal." And she continued eating, so sadly, so incredibly sadly, and it's been a while since I've seen anyone reach for ketchup so unhappily, so disappointed in long distance, so downtrodden on love and ready to give up.
And for a moment I tapped into her, I tapped into everything she was feeling, I tapped straight into the loneliness and lost feeling of being alone and not being okay with that, and not wanting to be, and trying to reach for a specific hand that wasn't reaching towards you at all and I remembered what it was like. I remembered what I was like. I remembered.
my.
And for a moment I tapped into her, I tapped into everything she was feeling, I tapped straight into the loneliness and lost feeling of being alone and not being okay with that, and not wanting to be, and trying to reach for a specific hand that wasn't reaching towards you at all and I remembered what it was like. I remembered what I was like. I remembered.
my.
How far I have come.
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