I stumbled upon some emails last night as I was sifting through my hotmail… they were emails between me and my ex. I’m not sure if I’ve ever even referred to him as my ex in a post before, because it seems like I’ve probably only ever referred to him as satan/the devil/voldemort in posts or talked in super abstract ways about him.

there’s this email thread from my first week away from home at university between us and reading it has produced such a strange emotional response in me. I know this response means nothing, but it does remind me that I am far too quick to bulldoze over certain facts.

fact 1: I cared about him.

that may sound simple to admit for the average person; even if a relationship ends in shambles, you obviously cared about each other at some point.

but see, for me, I just can’t ever admit that to myself, that I cared about him at all. the truth is that I didn’t care very much about the relationship or the disproportionate feelings he had for me in the beginning. I didn’t think much about it really, at first, and that has shaped the way I see myself interacting with relationships since. the fact that I could be that cold and careless and impulsive, doing something just to try it out and staying knowing that the other person was actually taking it seriously… it’s not a good feeling to know that you have the capacity to be that person. I am sure that I have the capacity to throw myself into something wholeheartedly and care about someone with all my heart and hope it works out, but even when I think I’m doing that I realize that I’ve done 12435 different things to push the other person away, show them that I don’t care, and consistently show myself that I don’t actually care, whether it is in subtle or blatant ways (from uttering small comments to getting myself into things I don’t even actually want to do).

fact 2: he cared about me.

he fucked up. yes. he fucking FUCKED UP. over, and over, and over again. he told me he could date someone beautiful if he wanted to, then told me months later that he had been trying to keep my self-esteem down because he knew I could easily find someone else and he loved me. he lied to me constantly. he said things to purposely piss me off and make me sad. he tried to control me. he was a fucking SOCIOPATH.

and I could tell you those things a million times over and know that they are damn true, but the fact of the matter is that, despite all of this and its truth, he loved me more than he’s ever loved anything. part of him might always feel that way.

it’s been years now (and it feels so good to be able to say that it was ‘years’ ago for some reason). things have changed so much, and he’s really just this strange, blurry object on the other side of the glass in my memory mueseum. 

and that’s what scares me.

I’m really happy I got out of that situation, of course. but reading these emails… there was so just much substance, good and bad, that I just completely forget. it is reminding me of how incredibly dangerous relationships are, how much you invest into them, how you can offer up so much capacity to get hurt, how much agency you lose, how you lose yourself, your independence, your way of life, your natural outlook, holy fuck it’s all so terrifying.

I know that this is because I fell in love with someone who was bad for me, but I’m just realizing that I need to give myself a break. there’s a reason I avoid getting attached to people. and I can spin things a million ways, but if I push someone away, it just isn’t worth it. they could be totally amazing (and trust me, the ones after him - HAVE been) but if I can let them go at all, it’s just not right. it doesn’t matter I let them go and it pains me, I still let them slip through my fingers, so that’s that.

chances are if it feels right, it is. and the moment it stops feeling right, it isn’t. that’s humanity. we are allowed to change the way we feel. whenever the fuck we want. it can leave people in pieces, but nobody can help/control the way they feel. you can’t control your emotions but you can control how you act on them. I never want to forget that.

this is a really personal post. posting this still feels like a risk…but thankyou for reading.

I honestly do really wonder what people think of me when they see me listening to music. I have this awful combination of lack of self-control and being just below the line of caring what they think of me enough to stop dancing. how can you not dance when you’re brain is dancing and smiling along is not enough?

it’s weird. I thought coming home to vic was gonna make me feel really stressed out. in many ways, I should be stressed. there’s a lot to do this week and on and on and on. but I don’t know, I am so happy to be back. I woke up so happy even though I barely got any sleep and I knew I’d have to face yet another fear in my class this morning. and it wasn’t so bad. my prof is amazing and so nice. such a genuine woman and I love learning from people like her. that being said, I still know that my heart isn’t in school right now. my heart belongs to the endless wide open right now.

what’s the world really supposed to be about? why are we actually here? and I don’t even mean that in a way of… *~wut is da meaning of lyf~ .. I mean, what is my specific purpose, because I know that I must have one, and what’s yours? it’s something to think about. life is mania, life is exciting. I feel like flying. and no, I’m not high.

UNLESS U MEAN HIGH ON LIFE HAR HAR HAR

there (in my heart

the chamber in my chest here)

and I’m so stubborn,

I’m so bitter,

and I never look back

usually for

years)

so I’ll fill it with cement

in my acetaminophen dreams,

wondering, wishing, waiting

for an existence evaporated, steam

I’m irrational, it’s almost laughable,

in my brain I’m like a patient, but I’m

so impatient of myself, I’m impossible,

and then there’s the scared bits, illogical,

the paranoia, about what they all think —

but why call it paranoia, when it’s

a feeling I get because the minute I blink

I miss it, I slip in it, my fears come true,

they leave when I’m sad, think it’s unfair

when I know I’m allowed to be mad -

it’s just like springing to life, every nightmare,

and the whispers carry in the air behind me,

because of a lack of understanding had,

and I know it, and I can clearly see

that I wouldn’t get it either without the bad,

but now I sit and picture everyone on a stage

and me with my heart on the line,

my life in a cage, my words on the page,

my body’s rebellion and rage;

the thoughts are back,

the ones that I swore were just some stressful phase,

that’s not me, my thoughts don’t sway

that far into dangerous decay,

but they’re back, baby,

I’m back

fate, the decisions of chance

let you shut the door,

you let me dance,

jump through hoops,

was it enough for him?

is this enough for you?

am I enough for you?

and I wasn’t

but I will be

for somebody.

I deserve to be

(not everyone will

have that effect on me,

make me feel like I’m crawling

through the fire of my own insecurity

trying to be

enough,

as if I should wait around for things to grow,

in dead gardens with all the beauty sucked out

where the owner should have known,

he chose the garden, planted the seeds

waited to love what he started, visual treats,

the air in spring, the meaning in the morning,

looking to see your product as a gem,

glistening from its shining stem,

‘cause anyone can find stones

but if you don’t cherish someone,

just fuck off and

be alone)

and they’ll say it’s karma,

but I know it’s just learning, 

‘cause life doesn’t work like that

with embedded systematic karmic payment programs concerning deserving

and oh, (I know that words can

twist the situation off, no safety cap,

all I see is the white in my hand,)

oh,

there’s a crack

and saw that a guy that I really care about and respect had a status that negatively portrayed an organization on campus which helps women with their issues and is technically a “radically” feminist centre.

parenthetically, I am not a radical feminist, not that that matters. I am a feminist nonetheless, undoubtedly as to me feminism is about self-love and self-respect. it’s part of knowing ourselves and knowing how society affects both men ANd woman.

anyway, I actually picked up the phone and called this guy when I got home and asked him if the centre did anything to upset him (he said no, that it was just a joke). I told him that it’s a centre where women who have had violence inflicted upon them by men and so forth, and that they are not man-hating, yet they are radical, so they believe that society is ruled by male supremacy and wish to reorganize the structure of society.

we both ended up laughing at how ridiculous it was that I phoned him instead of commenting on the status; it’s like we were both realizing without words how our generation and the way we express our opinions in the realm of ambient internet intimacy is a lot more powerful than we ever think about.

even though I was standing up for something I am not even affiliated with, it felt good.

I was talking to a guy friend recently, and he told me that it’s really awesome that I am “un-apologetically” myself. I took it as a compliment but then realized: I am most of the time. but sometimes I forget who I am. I let myself forget.

I forget to stand up for things, I forget how much I care about people, I forget to respect the fact that I have really annoying/emotional/even cowardly aspects of my personality.

I am going to work on this. I’m happy I did it.

on december 30th

but I never posted it.

I was in a bit of a detached mood, not even wanting to connect via words on the screen to be read by an unknown (probably relatively small) amount of people.

and I’m not going to post what I wrote there, because it was much more angry than this will be….but I am going to say this:

I know that new years resolutions seem ridiculous. why make a goal now, just because it’s a certain day of a certain year? “as if you’ll actually keep them,” half of society chimes in negatively. we have all lived through broken promises, especially the promises that we make to ourselves. so why go through that again? especially when it could be over something as seemingly minuscule as “I will stop eating onions raw” or “I will stop buying so many hair bands” (#firstworldproblems). 

however, when I look back at each year, it genuinely does feel like my life happens in chapters, usually every 6 months — but there’s always something pervasive throughout each year.

this year was my year for a few different things. I had to unlearn a really bad habit that was taking over my life (and I finally, really, truly did), and I developed a different one that I didn’t actually realize was problematic in different ways until recently. this year was about rising up out of the dust of denial and facing things. breaking down and rebuilding myself, over and over again, trying to push forward with doubtful optimism.

but then this september, everything changed at the right time. something came into sync finally. this time, I found the missing piece. a few girls came into my life that helped me realize that I’m so much closer to being the person I want to be than I ever imagined. of course I still have lots of work to do, and that’s what makes life exciting. but I had no idea that I was doing as well as I was.

after months of putting myself in and out of spells, in and out of feelings, in and out of fear, but always with destructive desires and onerous obsession, I finally got to this place where everything actually makes sense. 

good things usually come slowly, and this was a process for me.

now I know that there’s one thing left for the new year:

I’m about to do some trimming.

no more being around people who don’t make me feel good about myself.

and hey, you, whoever you are, can you promise me something?

do the same.

whether or not you label it as a resolution — and whether or not you actually believe that you have the strength to cut those people out of your life — if you do you will not regret it. I promise.

he put on lana del rey, “video games,” and asked if I’d heard it.

“when I heard that song, I thought of you,” he said, “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“no I .. really love that song.”

and we lay next to each other in silence listening to it.

“I’ve missed you.”

I have really missed him.

it’s like nothing has ever changed when we’re together. 

but I know that his intentions are so pure, and he’s so patient. and I know me. and I’m different.

I need to give what I have right in front of me, with j, a real shot for once, instead of avoiding the talk over and over. I have to tame my curiosity; I’m peter pan and I need to grow up a bit. I can’t keep holding onto what matthew and I have, because it’s just going to keep making my heart feel a little emptier for long periods and then full for short periods and then broken — as broken as a heart that can’t fully be filled can be, like little fissures, furrows, tears in the structure.

(and even though I’m happy about my decision, I can’t stop listening to the song over and over again)

It’s better than I ever even knew, they say that the world was built for two.

in fact it’s always been quite the opposite. as your typical child-of-divorce, I have gone through the “love doesn’t exist” phase in my teen years, and the “I don’t believe in marriage” phase in uhh well most of my years really.

and then my stepdad came into my life. despite the fact that he has been engaged to my mom for some years now, and I hear him refer to her as his wife to others, they are not married.

seeing how much rick loves my mom really made me rethink the whole marriage thing. no, they don’t need to be officially married for it to matter. of course not.

however, the thought of them having a wedding seemed, and still seems, so right to me.

a love like theirs deserves a celebration. I want to celebrate that rick came into her life — into our lives. he has truly been an angel for us and has accepted all the craziness that comes with being part of our family.

I went from seeing an awful, unhealthy relationship all my life, to seeing my mother with someone who will be there for her through absolutely anything, who will be there for her forever. to me, them having a wedding would be a celebration of inspiration; it would be celebrating such deep love that has showed me what a real, healthy relationship looks like. unconditional, unwavering.

so somehow I was at the point of thinking, well all wedding’s are stupid, and marriage is unnecessary, but my mom and rick — that’s the exception.

then last night as we were watching home videos, I saw the video of my god-sister’s wedding with her husband mark. they were best friends first and foremost and still are; he was like part of the family long before their marriage. when she walks down the aisle and he sees her face, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever seen. I was there, but I was young and I don’t remember it.

during the vows, mark tears up, and you can tell how genuinely he feels, how overwhelmed with emotion he is. and after they kiss, they share this hug and you can just tell that this is the right thing for them, that they’ve been waiting to do this their whole lives.

when the best man gives a speech, it’s so endearing to see how well he knows the groom and how much faith he evidently has in their union. and everyone there is smiling, everybody knows.

and when they dance for the “first dance” they’re just so natural. everything about it seems natural. they’re calm yet excited, nervous but ready; they’re husband and wife.

I’m not saying that I am now a wedding-luva and planning my future communion — I still have a hard time seeing myself as naturally monogamous — but I can now see the absolute beauty of the celebration of something I spent my whole life ragging on: marriage.

and we were talking about my gramma, about time, about life.

“it all goes by so fast,” my mom sighed.

we’d been lying there almost asleep and my eyes popped open faster than the buttons on ke$ha’s pants in the presence of grungy rocker men.

it all goes by so fast. it’s so simple, and I’ve heard it all before, but holy fuck.

is being in school really living my life? it’s funny how any time but exam time would have me going on about positivity and the universe and how happy I am and how I know that I belong at UVic.

and then I realize that something like being graded on papers and slaving away behind a computer (and by slaving away I mean 60 percent facebook, 40 percent working through distracting thoughts about the universe, ice cream, him, whatever) can actually have the potential to make me feel this shitty, this stressed.

when school goes wrong, everything is wrong. life is wrong. the past little while of exams I have not been myself. my will to live was raped by something as simple as a grading rubric, money and time. no, those things aren’t simple I guess. but they aren’t worth the stress that was injected into my life recently, which was all-encompassing. I opened my eyes and stress was there. I closed my eyes and it wouldn’t go away. I wasn’t myself. my thoughts were driven by irrationality and panic.

so then, without school, what’s my purpose?

the fact that I’m even asking kinda just tells me even more that I have a long way to go before I figure out my ‘purpose.’

I just wanna be free.

where the music is blasting in my ears, melodies bleeding, and I’m laughing alone at the things we say, and I think of everyone before you, and they’re all so miniscule, they’re all so far away, and I only want you.

and I’m happy and fucking terrified simultaneously, drifting along in a daze staring up at the ceiling wondering, almost deliriously, how I let this happen, wondering how, seamlessly, I let you become significant, wondering if these moments of clarity are worth the fears which they create.

yesterday I’m trying to find the door, getting so scared that I won’t be able to do it anymore,

but then it’s you and me and I’ve never known something more easy

and I couldn’t sleep last night remembering us.

I was remembering all the official words,

like your lips were peeling pages of a thesaurus.

and now I can’t remember what to remember,

what to recall when I want to reminisce,

because it always comes back to a story

about a 17-year-old girl you once kissed.

I wish I could feel you through the distance,

but I can’t get through the twisting sphere

of punctured spaces and waves between us,

knowing it would be different if you were here.

but then I remember the red in your eyes 

when you realized you’d have to leave,

and I remember the three hour drive,

you took to say goodbye on the eve

before your plane left, and we’ve

just drifted by being apart now,

I wish I could know somehow,

if I’m doing the right thing,

or if we were the right thing.

my initial impression of you:

you seemed to be your own fire,

electric, something else entirely,

but my mind was somewhere outside me.

the second time, you sunk in

you were a phenomenon,

but there was traffic in my mind,

wasting time (but is there such a thing as wasted time,

for we learn so much, and touch so much and lose trust but we push through the lust when it’s enough and we finally see)?

repeat after me,

I see, I need, I believe,

in my heart, in my brain

my favourite part of this game

it’s a bird, it’s a plane,

I’m huffing like a train,

and I know it’s just me

I know that I am free

but I’ve got you with me

and it’s not hard to see

that this is gonna be

something kinda like love;

reach for the stars,

over the fence,

world series kinda stuff.

to feel like I’m being shown off,

like I’m the diamonds slicing

the ears of a wealthy woman,

with a smile so rich and inviting.

you treat me like I’m something new,

I’m my own species, display at the zoo,

something that’s never happened to you.

but I still just feel like the flattered fool,

starry-eyed, slippery, spinning,

wild smile, wide smile, I’m grinning.

feeling idealistic; realism can feel like sinning.

the sky only drips romantic rain, spitting,

the stressed out leave bad jobs, quitting,

the kids can all find playgrounds, swinging,

and the birds lace up their wings, stringing

wings swinging, thick clouds are thinning,

and aint it something?

when you talk, your mouth overflows, filling,

and your words stay in my head, ringing.

now I’m just trying to stop myself from staring,

looking down at the curves of your lips

sitting on the couch with your hands on my hips,

your words can slick the room as they drip,

they can grip me as they slip out in ticks,

did I pick you? did you pick me, this

is like waiting for a movie twist,

‘cause I’m only direct in shifts,

and sometimes my opinion splits,

swift then drifts and sifts, gets snipped,

rationality always wields a whip,

and I get knocked off this ship.

in the muddy waters after I trip,

I’m flipped, I’m back to thinking of this,

as something I need to avoid before I slip,

before I fall, before I slip,

before I’m stuck, before I slip,

before I’m attached, I’ll slip up,

I’ll trip up, I’m no good, you’ll rip,

you’ll break, you’re not real,

this is all fake, this, this, this…

-

our movements are small,

I don’t care at all,

that’s why I’m here,

and it’s all pretty clear

until I walk out the door

and I can’t feel you anymore

but then I think of the moments

and all the components

that make me want to be

in your vicinity

I need to be, I need to be

with you, I need to be,

I can still be free,

the theme prevails with

you and me,

I’m overwhelmed, the ultimate

telepathic lust, brainwashed, favourite,

I’ll set the date, save it, I’m not ready yet,

self-control, train it, trained it, training it,

what we are, I’m naming it, one day I’ll shout it,

no more rain checking it, raining out on it,

suffering through the silence, sliding through it,

I can be something I assume I’m not about,

I’ll be weighted down flying, but I’m en route

I’ll get there, I really want to, I wanna do this

right, that’s it, right there, like tag, you’re it,

classic, I’m spastic, I’m crashing, I’m floored,

I’m coming down, I’m on the ground, next to the door,

but I’m not gonna use it, I’ll stay. I’m yours.

it’s all a rollercoaster race track

running through my head

and I’d rather be dead

can I take this back?

reversestopstalldelete

stopreversestopstalldelete

take me home,

where I can be alone

and buzz with the walls

I need to stop, time needs to stall

in the mirror, lather, rinse, repeat,

from my hands down to my feet

it’s clear but everything else here

is spinning and dripping like smeary tears.

and everything’s so fast, even when I look back

like heartrate lines cringing colours against a screen in black;

a comic book cartoon with a laugh track when it’s funny

where I’m the blurred focus, a buzzing bee looking for honey.

reversestopstallpressdelete

reversestallstopdeletedelete

but the comfort of your hug is all I need

and talking is all that I need, feed me—

feed me love and light and laughter

feed me now, lead me now, lead me how,

tear me out, feel me out, hear me out,

can we meet, dance in our seats,

dance to these beats,

dancing’s a treat

dancing retreat

control alt delete

let’s start again

and look back with grins

undobackspaceredoundodelete

deleteundodepleteundoredo

like memories on speed

likememoriesonspeed