Sleep deprivation

I need to stop hoping to see a message waiting from you when I wake up, it beings the day in utter disappointment. 
But.
Each day is getting a little bit easier. 
Each day I'm letting myself go back to who I was before.
Each day I'm learning that you're not the end all and be of of ME, and the world does not stop spinning without you.
I still love you, yes, but now I'm rebuilding some walls and starting to gather the pieces of my heart back from you. 
All this aside.  It is still taking every bit of strength to stay away from you.
I tell myself that maybe if I can just make it through this week, maybe this weekend things will get better.


I'm closer now, close to being my strong independent self again.  Today I will have some horrible moments of weakness, but I hope that they hit my while I'm surrounded by friends and pass soon.

Maybe next week I can write stories again.


Maybe this week I will go out for a play.


I am about to launch my next campaign against the bureaucratization at this school, with as much passion and gusto as ever.  Yes.


These are the things I wan to tell you, these and also


I love you.

Tonight, tonight.

It's finally hit me, I think.  (can't breath can't think can't sleep can't eat.) 
Mostly I can't keep seeing you and knowing I can't talk to you or laugh with you or love you.
I don't know how to not talk to you yet.  I can't believe that I can't just click on your name to tell you that I love you, or the idiotic things I did today, or how I get to start my new job tomorrow.  In my head you're rolling your eyes and laughing at me, I can remember how you used to look at me like I was the only woman in the world.
I wish I couldn't remember.
I can't bring myself to purge you from my life.  I can't delete the conversations, the photos, I can't knowingly wipe you out of my life. 
I would give anything to hear you tell me you want to be with me. 

I love you, hon, darling, lover, babe.  I love you and I want you in my life.  I hope I fit.

Afternoon

And now it just hurts.  And now I'm sobbing and blaming myself and thinking about all the things I will miss, and how it will feel the first time I see someone else on your arm.  Please don't do that to me, please. 
I still love you so much, I wish I didn't. 
Why did I let my walls come down? 
I'm building myself a castle with no doors and no windows and I'm never coming out.

Medea's Lament

You're the love of my life, after all.  I've been saying it for years now.  Perhaps tomorrow I will be upset.  Perhaps tomorrow I will be angry.  Perhaps tomorrow I will write a bloody scene or two.  Right now I just
AM.

I know more truths now, things that people were afraid to tell me before.  It helps, knowing I was not the only one who kept secrets.  The difference was I told you the truth, in the end.  But now I know.  Even so, through my moments of blind rage and self doubt, I still love you.  That doesn't change.  There is no switch to turn off my emotion.

I thought you were the Last One.  I thought you were my Rhett Butler.  You might still be, I suppose; in some sweepingly brilliant end of a romantic comedy where you realize that YES, I'm the one!  And YES, you can't live without me!  I don't expect that though.  I expect for you to look for solace and love in other places.  I expect you to believe that I am too broken to be fixed.  You don't fight for us, you never have- that's me. 

When you walked out the door I collapsed.  I will apologize to my neighbors tomorrow for my sobs and wild clatter and banging, the poor girls who don't know that my heart is breaking will think I've really gone insane.  Now though, I'm calm.  The man I fell in love with, I can't find him anymore.  I see hints now and then, little smiles bits of teasing.  But mostly you have fallen into a morose mean man that I have never met. 

I don't hate you.  I think you're handsome and intelligent and you will make a wonderful father someday.  I don't hate you but right now, I don't see you coming back to me.  

Please find yourself again.  Maybe, in finding yourself, you will find the love for me that you "lost" so long ago.  Maybe you won't.  Either way, I hope I will have done some good.  As much as I want to spend my life discovering the world with you, I can't spend my life living the way I have been for the last year.  I love you, but I love myself more.  I hope that before you try to make things work- with me or anyone else- you find the truth about what makes YOU truly happy.  Because I don't believe you know right now.

You told me you can't handle my dark and twisty side.  But darling, I was dark and twisty long before you came along.  Maybe more so when there are things to emphasize it, but there is something you don't understand.   I love me on all my dark and twisty days as much as I love me on my best days. I would never harm myself, because I believe that I am worth the fight; even when my mouth is forming the words that I'm not. 

Now, I have to pick myself up and this time there is no one else there telling me how wonderful I am.
  I'm hurt, so hurt.  This will take me years and probably countless dollars in therapists to comprehend.  But if I can do this, if I can move on by myself, I will be the girl I once was again. 
Maybe there is someone out there waiting for me, maybe he's hurting too and he feels just as desperate as I do. 

I know this: I live, love, fight with passion.  I will never give that up.  As long as I have passion, I am still meridith-tabitha-amphitriti.  I love you, with all of my heart, and I do hope you find yourself while there is still time for me to give myself to you. 

But if you don't, I hope you are happy. 

Once again, for old time's sake.

It's raining, and it's three in the morning, and I am awake alone in my dorm.  On some level you could say that some things never change.
But they have.
I'm happy.
I'm not writing men into bloody oblivion, I'm not crying myself to sleep after sneaking back across campus and down sets of stairs.
I just came from my boyfriend's room, my boyfriend of over two years.  He told me he loved me and he kissed me on the forehead and then I walked home through the rain.
I'm not the same girl anymore, longing to be out of the grey grey town.
Bring it, Meadville. 

Brown Eyes

Tonight, for the first time, I saw bright brown eyes fade to a dull lifeless sheen.
It's not the first time I've seen death, I have personally witnessed many blue eyed boys expire, and even some hazel and green.  Never brown though, with their little specks of green and gold near the center.  Never, until now. 
It's harder then with the others, because before all I felt was anger and bitterness. Now I have not only lost my pride and a piece of my heart, but I have lost my future and most of my past.  Who am I now, to go out into the world alone and unchaperoned?  Who am I to believe that I am worthy of searching for such a love again?  I gave everything of myself away, and when it was cast back to me I have found it impossible to gather all the pieces of me back in any logical sense of order. 
It is not my first heartbreak, but it is my first check on reality.  I thought, for some naive reason, that when there came the time that I truly gave everything of myself away, that I let myself go and just fall into happiness, that somehow there would be no way I could fail.  I thought when that day came my future would be carved deep into everlasting stone.  There is no contingency plan.  There is no escape route. 
I will love you until the day I die, this I know.  I will never fall out of love, that is as impossible as it is for me to curb my emotions at two in the morning.  I will love you forever, but will you ever love me?
This is why I saw those lifeless eyes tonight.  It is what I do, what I did, when I felt myself getting too deep into hysteria. 
Fictional murder is infinitely better then the reality of loneliness.
With you though, it is different.  I can't kill without a conscious, without remorse. 
You are my life.  You are my love.  You are a part of myself, and if I murder you I simultaneously commit suicide. 
So, with a flick of an eyelid, I watch those beautiful brown eyes find their life again.  I won't close them forever, not yet.
But please, a concession from you as well.
Promise me, please.  Don't break my heart. 

Someone.

I want to be your someone.  I want to see you grin.
Cheesy, I know, but real nonetheless.
I know you don't need to hear it, but I do love you.

I used to dream of the New York City Ballet.  Not the corps, but the principal, the prima ballerina.  Visions of the grand entrance with my picture plastered outside, me as clara, the swan princess, Juliet.  At the ripe old age of 30 perhaps I would retire, living in a high rise in the Village and teaching an exclusive class for other young dancers.  This dream died when I turned 12.

Next I saw myself on a stage just off Times Square.  Center stage with a spotlight, looking searchingly into the darkened balcony.  The audience would weep as I did, and at the end of every show my bow would come last to a standing crowd who would proclaim "Brava, brava!"  For years I held this, examining it each night before I slipped into sleep, embellishing and fast forwarding through the bitter details.  One year, I got to die onstage.  The house of 300 almost sold out one night; my greatest hour.

Now I have a different dream.  I am standing alone, looking at myself in a glass.  My reflection is wearing white, and I am carrying lilies.  I linger on this thought, because I don't want to wear out what comes next.  You, at the end of a grassy lawn, looking back at me.  You are smiling and somehow things are just right.  I don't know how but I am with you and you are looking into my eyes and I know. Later I will drink and dance and my father will tell me he is happy and proud of me- of us.  The night will spin on and on until we are alone again, and you are telling me that this is forever.

This is my dream now.  This is what keeps me living with passion.  You don't want to hear this, I know, but the idea of living a simple life with you makes me breath a little easier.  I love you, and I won't stop saying it.  I love you, and I want to be your someone.