I look at my hands. Slightly callused from words, more words, scribbled in agony or happiness, outbursts or peace, but mostly soft, with pale clear skin stretched over knuckles and veins. My face, clear again, not lined or wrinkled, only dark circles marring the stretch of skin between and over features. Hair still dark and healthy.
Yet my mind aging, everyday sometimes adding years, till I'm old, till I'm ancient, till I talk like a Chinese wise man. Not yet two decades old yet feeling like a withered woman, an old soul who has been around for centuries.
And yet I haven't seen the world.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Slow, slow goodbyes.
"I guess we're drifting apart."
Those five words, so simple, summing up little cracks, aftermath. Or rather, like aftershock. Vibrations that weakened the threads keeping us together, after these strands withstood The Big One, the cataclysmic earthquake apparently designed with specifications to destroy the world.
It's amazing how, after these five words were said, or rather typed, resonated in my head in your voice, I had to sit down and think about it. I had difficulty accepting it how easily it had happened, no pain, no breakage, just letting go little by little until none of it mattered. All in the past while we live in futures we picked to be different. You have someone else and I'm still alone, both deciding differently, as we always have, except for the one time we agreed on what I see as a naive idea.
Drifting apart after we go through hell together, and not care to try to patch it up because we believe in the inevitable, in the lack of control, yet somehow we believe in writing our own destinies.
Maybe this is what we wanted all along - to leave and not hurt.
Somewhere I know I did, because it was pain, it was agony in the beginning, agony to learn to not care.
Now the pain has been left behind but apparently the pain was a lot of what held us together.
No one needs a dependence of suffering.
So let's put an end to it, slowly, slowly, like painstakingly removing a bandage rather than snuffing out a candle, quick, in a breath, because the sudden darkness scares us.
Those five words, so simple, summing up little cracks, aftermath. Or rather, like aftershock. Vibrations that weakened the threads keeping us together, after these strands withstood The Big One, the cataclysmic earthquake apparently designed with specifications to destroy the world.
It's amazing how, after these five words were said, or rather typed, resonated in my head in your voice, I had to sit down and think about it. I had difficulty accepting it how easily it had happened, no pain, no breakage, just letting go little by little until none of it mattered. All in the past while we live in futures we picked to be different. You have someone else and I'm still alone, both deciding differently, as we always have, except for the one time we agreed on what I see as a naive idea.
Drifting apart after we go through hell together, and not care to try to patch it up because we believe in the inevitable, in the lack of control, yet somehow we believe in writing our own destinies.
Maybe this is what we wanted all along - to leave and not hurt.
Somewhere I know I did, because it was pain, it was agony in the beginning, agony to learn to not care.
Now the pain has been left behind but apparently the pain was a lot of what held us together.
No one needs a dependence of suffering.
So let's put an end to it, slowly, slowly, like painstakingly removing a bandage rather than snuffing out a candle, quick, in a breath, because the sudden darkness scares us.
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