Turning Tail

It's been difficult for me to properly process as well as miss someone when they lose their future in my life... but not really because I have any rancorous intent hanging behind for them; I can come to terms with the product of what I have done and what has been done on me.



Getting comfortable knowing people means accepting that each one will eventually rend me into pieces. People will sift through my facets, and they will take what they want to see of them and let the cracks fill themselves by our exposure in itself; I take comfort in how the picture that forms towards the end of knowing them will never be the same as another. Similar sometimes, never the same.



I will always be gone before it ever becomes the same.



I rend people too. I take every sum of them, and I persistently stare past their stars all day only to run the next. I can't precisely pinpoint how morally wrong it is nor how systemically sickening it is to continue to love someone past their presence. Doing just that certainly makes for one blatant display of my selfishness. I tend to contradict my own beliefs when I'm devoted to believing that someone would change when in doing so meant never changing myself.



So when I'm finally the most selfish I can be, I forgive what you've done and I love what you are. I leave behind the limbo of your intentions and take the certainty of my experiences with me, because before you are every cruel thing you've said and every deliberate tarnishing thing you've done, you are first tortoise beetle Google searches past evenings, walks down breezed roads, 8-hour-long horse life game sessions, and mock-up borderline-waterboarding baptism via the ocean.



I don't really miss you when I'm positive that I would've eventually come to resent you as much as you had me should I have continued to live in what I believed to be the highest of my deserving. I don't really miss you when you're so effortlessly with me every day regardless. The you that I keep with me is in the same yellow towel I keep hung near mine, the bracelet that you left on my dresser drawer after asking about the one on the drawer above it, the keychain-bracelet thing you'd mess with in your hand (which ultimately became one of my immediately accessible stim objects, sorry), and every bit and piece of my life that had happened in the presence of you.



Sometimes if my headphones are buzzing loud enough late enough at night you are merely asleep on the receiving end of them, sometimes I'm told "Imagine in a few years this will be us in our own kitchen." and for just 5 minutes before I wake it sounds like something I've wanted more fervourously than anything else in my life, and sometimes if I wake with my hand hung over the bed with it still being dark I can feel the numbness of your hand long held in mine.



I know that you brought out the worst in me, just as much as I know that had there been a chance for me to go backwards and run from you far before then, I would have heard you all over again.