Night scape in Tokyo,Japan (by flaminghead Park)
I love you.
I’ve grown to love you, gradually,
because even though we’re family, love
is slow to learn.
I’ve forgiven you for all the times you were mean
because I was 13 and weird and I didn’t wear makeup
and all my clothes were ugly and I wore those clunky Mudd shoes
and didn’t brush my hair.
I know you didn’t mean it, it was just the friends you had.
I love you.
I grew up and only had enough friends to count on one hand.
I still can.
then I found movies.
then I found out I could sing.
I found out I was good at writing so long
as no one was looking.
I found out that I could look pretty
if I put make-up on and acted better.
I found out that I could be enough,
that your approval, though wanted,
And as I spent all this time growing up,
trying to be a hundred different people
in a hundred different ways with a hundred
I realized that you were growing up, too,
and we moved and you made better friends.
We still fought all the time because
you never closed my door all the way
you stole all my clothes and you yelled a lot,
but you were growing up.
I woke up one day and realized
that I could be funny if I wanted to be
and you laughed at all my jokes,
you told me I was a good singer,
you took the train with me
to go audition in the city,
and you waited in the Starbucks while they told me I was great,
but that they couldn’t take me.
You took me out to dinner afterwards
and told me that it took luck, not talent
and I really did feel better then,
even though it usually takes more than that.
We’re a lot older now, and I’ve found out all
these things about myself that
make it easier to be alone.
We share a room at school like we did when we were kids
and we haven’t fought in weeks,
and you listen to me when I speak,
you even offered to go into the city
with me again for the same auditions
even though they’re on a Saturday and
we’d have to wake up at 5:30 a.m.
You’re a lot happier than me,
and you often don’t understand
why I’m so tired,
but you laugh it off with me and
ask if I can drive you to class after my nap
because the buses take too long and your foot hurts.
So I do,
and we listen to your music that I sometimes like
and I remember that things don’t have to be so
heavy all the time.
I remember that love is slow
that love whispers
“it’s okay, we’ll be better than we were.”
and we are.
I like how glasses suggest intelligence instead of broken eyes.
How Did You Find That Untagged Post From 11 Months Ago a story of confusion, fear, and general unease
I am disturbed by how pale i’ve gotten.
I miss my usually naturally darker complexion, which used to be with me year round. But now, i’m translucent. I can see the blue veins streaking up my forearms, into my biceps. I can see the spiderweb network in my calves, my feet, and my hands. I’m not used to that. I feel like i’m white as a ghost.
And I feel like that shows exactly how much she took out of me these past 6 months. She sucked the sweet sunshine off of my skin, and left me a bleached skeleton.
I still have the splotches of freckles on the back of my shoulders, and the cowlicks in my hair. I still have the awkward turn of my right foot when I walk sometimes. I still have a happy collarbone and shoulders that have become a little bit more broad and strong from carrying so much more physical and emotional weight. I still have the strain of muscles in my neck when i’m mad, and the dimples in my cheeks when I am genuinely happy.
I may have circles beneath my eyes and skin to match the dead, but goddammit so long as I have a pulse, I will work to become as truly happy as I was, long before she ever came into my life. Because I am the one left standing in this fight, and I can actually, finally say, “Fuck you, i’m over you.”
In the end, I am still me. I was always me, I just got lost between before her, and after.