sometimes i still need you.

i’ve been trying to write, but nothing will come out.

my fingers touch the keys, and usually form no more than two sentences before i stop again in attempt to recollect my thoughts. my words have failed me at even the most simple of writing tasks. even now, i’ve been staring at a blog comment window, trying to type a response to a friend and my fingers won’t move. i don’t usually realize that i’ve stopped writing; that my mind has gone vacant at all until i suddenly come back down to earth, and realize that all i had been doing over the past 5 minutes was pick the grey nail polish from my fingernails.

i write a paragraph and stop cold. i’ve been staring at the cursor blinking for 4 minutes. how is it that i’ve got so much to say, and nothing at all? i recently started thinking about how easy it was to write when i was in love. i had so many thoughts then. i would hate to find that i can’t write while out of love, but i know it really just isn’t the same. before i fell in love, i could write so easily. i don’t understand why it can’t be that way again. i told someone that i’ve felt so happy and liberated since i’ve moved to Portland, but still feel a lingering sadness from losing him that doesn’t seem to be going away. she told me that maybe this will be my new normal. maybe i need to accept that i’ll always be somewhat wounded now, and that the things that happened to me will still have an affect on my life, even if it is only in the smallest of ways. but i wish it wouldn’t have taken away my writing, and my ability to focus when i read. i can read chapters of a book now, and not be able to tell you what i had just read if you had asked me.

i know moving was right. i know this is where i want to be. i know that i’m home now. but deep down, i know why this is happening. i know why this day has turned out this way. it was because the first thing i thought of when i opened my eyes this morning was you.

 

“she closes her eyes in ecstasy, but he’s tattooed his face across her eyelids.”

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

Dear Aunt Sabrina,

I think you’d be confused as to why I chose to write you, but you have to know that I’ve been lucky enough not to lose anyone very close to me so far, and since you and I never met it seems fitting. This is one letter I wish I could get a reply from. I wish you could tell me what my dad was like before you died. I wonder what all of them were like. I wonder if they were any different at all, because I know problems existed far before you were gone. I wonder if you were the sunshine in the room. I wonder if you were anything like my sister and I. When I was a little girl I remember asking who you were when I saw your picture. My dad told me that you were his sister, but that you were in heaven now. No one really ever spoke of you, and they don’t even now. I know nothing about you besides how you died. I grew curious and searched for your name on the internet, and what saddened (and scared) me was that all that came up was the date of your death, and your social security number.

Even if they don’t speak of you, the lack of your presence can still be felt. I don’t know if they realize it, but every year at the time of your death they’re always unhappy. Maybe it’s an unspoken understanding between them, but I can’t help but to think that maybe they just feel safer in their denial. If you had been my sister you would have been in my thoughts every day. I can’t believe I’ve been on this earth just a few years longer than you have, now. When I think of you, you remind me of how fragile life is, and I still wonder what it would’ve been like if you were still here. I think my dad does too.

Goodnight, Sabrina.

Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend

(I know, I've skipped a few days. I've decided to write whichever letter feels most fitting to write about at the moment. I'll get back to the others when the timing is right. But tonight this letter is for him. I thought about writing this letter for months. I've written the pages over and over in my head. I was always so hesitant to write it all out; I've had so much to say. I've edited, shortened, and rewritten completely. This is the first letter that has felt right.)





To My Ex-Lover,

I think of you less and less every day. Everything you made me feel is past tense now. Nearly three years, and the only thing you managed to teach me is that love fails. I don't crave your company any longer. I loved who you were, but who you are now is something I would never desire. What ended us was your denial, and what began your relationship with her was lies. I don't expect you to ever find your way back to the person you were. Enjoy.

Sincerely,
Bunny.

Day 2 — Your Crush

Dear Crush:

I would get butterflies when you texted me, and stammer over my words when you'd call. I hope you never noticed, but I secretly wish you did. I'm sorry that I'm talking in past tense, but I think you know what that means. My butterflies are flying away. But I'm not sad at all. I get the idea that there will be more like you that start strong and quickly fade, but I find that exciting.

I love the movie nights, the coffee dates, the flirtatious conversations, the hugs that last longer each time, and feeling giddy when my phone lights up and it's you. You don't need to be the love of my life. You don't need to last forever. I'm not afraid of where this goes because a crush isn't capable of breaking my heart. I just like this feeling because it makes me feel alive.

But to anyone who may have a crush on me now (or those future boys I've yet to meet), I will say this: any guy I know would tell you in a heartbeat that before you realize it, you'll be falling for me.

So if you're ready for late night conversations and spontaneous beach trips, maybe you should take a chance. I'm an amazing girl. You just have to get to know me.

Day 1 — Your Best Friend

I told myself I'd start this project on July 1st, but July has somehow swept me away in its first 5 days.

I'm both excited and terrified to do this project. I feel as though it'll be much like ripping off bandaids and picking scabs. (Gross, I'm sorry.) I'm torn between ideas of how healing is supposed to work now. I'm not sure if it's simply time that heals all wounds, or if it's attempting anything that promises incite closure, or if venting and expressing your emotions to people you trust somehow helps nurse your thoughts back to health.

Regardless, I'll try my best to write one letter every day, and I'll try my best to write the letter assigned to that specific day, but I can't promise. Some people who have taken on this project have written such lighthearted letters (which I adore and envy), and although I'm sure some of mine might be too, some of the topics are such heavy thoughts to bear. Regardless, I know I will finish this project. So here it comes.


Day 1 — Your Best Friend

Dear Best Friend,

I've chosen to write this letter in a manner that keeps you anonymous. That's because I've chosen to write to every best friend: The ones that exist now, the ones that only existed then. The ones I speak to once a day, and the ones I speak to once a month. This is for you. I want to tell you that I wouldn't have made it here without you. The times you drove me around the city until I could finally bring myself to stop crying, the times you came over at 2 a.m. just to listen to music in my room, the times you've answered my phone calls and spoke to me for hours whether I was laughing or crying. Sometimes I feel that you've never stopped loving me unconditionally. It's almost surreal.

We dream, we swim, we laugh, we sing, we cry, we dance. We stay awake to see sunrises, we climb water towers, we complete each other's sentences, we go on road trips, fishing trips, camping trips, we stay in bed all day. I feel like I belong in the world when you're with me. You look at me and I know you understand me whether or not I've spoken any words at all.

I want to apologize if I've ever hurt you. I want to apologize to you for sometimes not answering my phone, and I want to apologize to you for sometimes answering my phone at all; this has been my hardest year, and I know I haven't always made for the happiest conversation, or the best company. I know all you've ever done is try to take care of me. I promise my distance is only ever an attempt at burdening you less.

Please never doubt what you mean to me. You've made my life so much easier to bear. Some days you were all that brought me out of bed in the morning. Some nights you were the only reason I could fall asleep. Even if it didn't last, I still think of our memories fondly.

Thank you for being here now, and being here then.

A New Project.

I could explain all the reasons I haven't written, but I'm not sure any of those thoughts are worth describing now. I've simply felt a loss of inspiration, or maybe even a fear of what inspiration I have left.

I recently considered starting a new blog. A quirky and bluntly honest viewpoint of being recently single and newly 21, (which has so far led to many adventures) and I actually completed an entire first post, saved it in a word document, and woke up to find that the file format could no longer be re-opened. After losing what I had spent hours writing, I thought it might have been a sign. I gave up, wondering if maybe the time for it just wasn't right.

I'm searching for anything to make me feel alive now. Some nights I've felt alive dancing to the rhythm of music, surrounded by strangers. Other nights I feel alive when I'm alone with my ipod and a glass of wine.

After my breakup this year I want nothing else but to have my life back. I want my heart back, my head back, my dreams back. None of these things have been mine. They've belonged only to him, and I'll do anything to escape that now. I was thinking while in the shower earlier (where I truly do most of my thinking) and I wanted to write a goodbye letter to him. One that I'd never intend for him to read. I even started writing it in my head. It hasn't yet made it through to my fingers meeting my keyboard, but I came across the tumblr of a writer and photographer I adore who recently started participating in a 30 day project, and it seemed to call to me.


So in addition to my Project 365, for 30 days coming soon, I'll be writing a letter to these people.


Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

I hope this new project will serve as a healthy place to vent, but what I'm really hoping I'll have after these 30 days is my inspiration back. Maybe this will consolidate my dreams, my heart, and my head. I want to write again. I need this.

Past and Present Tense.

I'm unsure I can really describe where I've been since my last post here.

I've found darkness that I thought was incapable of existing. There have been days where my mind has quit and left my body wandering on vacantly. The emptiness I feel in my stomach mimics hunger, so eating seemed futile. I survive without food for days that way. I've cried while driving, sleeping, showering, and exercising. I fall in and out of love and hate within the same hour. I woke up praying for God to make my body die the way my mind already has, to allow me to perish fully, wholly.

I've looked out between the blur of tears in my eyes with a smile on my face, feeling hope and excitement that there must be better days for me this year. I smile at attractive strangers with a hopeful heartbeat, thinking maybe they could be the one who will make me believe in love again. Then I feel bitter and scared, like I should take the example my father and ex-lover have given me as a sign that love isn't real. I felt love though, I did. Oh, love is so real. I feel beautiful when I realize my heart is capable of unconditional love. I felt disgust when I found my heart was capable of unconditional love.

It has been 62 days; Every day has begun and ended with uncertainty. We have 60 more unpredictable days left of living together.

I can't imagine us looking at all of our belongings separately packed in boxes. I can't imagine the last words we'll say to each other in the apartment. I can't picture leaving our home and driving away in opposite directions. I've wished that day is tomorrow. I wish that day would never come.

But I want it to so fucking bad.



Letter to myself:

(Keep your chin up, girl. You'll look back on this months from now and be living amongst so much beauty. You don't deserve to feel this, but it won't last long. There are so many people who love you. Look forward to your birthday, June will make this all worth while. Love yourself even if he can't. Smile even when it hurts. This will all soon be memories, and you'll be so strong when that day comes and you've realized you've made it. After all, “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we are free to do anything.” )