I felt a swell of something unfamiliar when he plucked the first few chords of Thunderlove. And it felt out of my control when my legs carried me to him as he sang, Give me some sweetness and help me beat this…
In that moment, I knew I was in trouble.
Cosmic Love floated through the screen doors, and I shivered from the cold— or maybe in hopes of preventing the resurfacing memories of the first few minutes of the new year that we shared.
It’s difficult not to think fondly of our time together— running down the stairs with him and into a room with that song vibrating the house. And then joining our friends, exhausting our bodies and reveling in our youth.
Not much has changed in this new season. We still push ourselves, hoping to explore the limitations of our bodies and the intricacies of our minds. Some of us have found happiness, others are struggling to hold on to it, and a few are still trying to find it.
That night, as I watched him walk away from the party, I came to the conclusion that I was too exhausted to hold on to this any longer. While I’ve said this several times before, I finally felt myself loosening my hold on the remnants of our history.
I ran back into the Chapter Room, throwing myself into the music that pounded the walls and willing my movements to shake the lingering thoughts of him.
Heather and I walked through the doors of the house, sufficiently inebriated from our friend date. Everyone we love surrounded the fire, and a smile spread itself across my face when I saw him with a golf club, ready for the playful banter to ensue.
I missed this, there was no denying that. Though I made sure to smother any feelings of hope I may still have to see this one through. There is no use in pining away for someone who doesn’t want you.
Later, I fiddled with the pieces on his chess set, afraid to see his reaction to my words. “I am really happy we can be this way despite everything…” I nodded firmly before attempting to make a quick exit, but as I reached the door I heard, Me too. I looked up quickly, hoping there was something more he’d say, but I am not surprised that it was the end. He was rubbing the back of his neck, and I was quickly becoming flustered. I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer without making myself too anxious. So, I closed the door behind me, very aware of the underlying metaphor.
He’s become an island in front of everyone’s eyes, and I wish we could pull him back to us.
The smell of cigarettes and the sound of Street Fighter overwhelmed my senses. I let my eyes wander around the room, quietly waiting for my turn in Clue.
I was four spaces away from winning when a stranger caught my eye. He resembled the actor who played Cedric Diggory. I laughed at myself for making the reference.
In fear of inviting attention, I looked away before he could react to my gaze. Instead, I picked up my die and made my accusation. It was Mrs. Peacock in the Hall with a wrench. Sliding the cards out of the envelope, I smiled as each one confirmed my victory– wishing some of the mysteries in life were as easy to solve.
(Source: imgoingtoparis, via tarawrz)
“Is everything okay?” He searched my eyes for something, and in an instant, I shielded myself with feigned ignorance. “You seem more… distant.” I mentally sighed as something serrated within me softened, and I knew I couldn’t lie.
I looked away, smiling, “There are things outside of this that are affecting me emotionally. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. Besides, being aloof ensures that I don’t get too attached to you.” That was the truth, just not in its entirety. The smile throws everyone off.
He contemplated my reply, still watching me carefully. “Do what you need to do. I was just making sure it wasn’t something I was doing, because it’s hard to tell what’s going on up there sometimes.” Our hands were palm to palm in the air, allowing me to avoid eye contact. I high-fived him to ease the anxiety this conversation was giving me, thanking him for asking and letting him know of my genuine surprise that he noticed. “I think I know you well enough now to notice these things.” He’s expressed this sentiment before, but this time, I didn’t protest. I was just puzzled, and immediately I was reminded of Anais Nin.
Don’t say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I will no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you.
However, I am sure he has no interest in existing in my world for much longer. I am not hurt by this reality, just perplexed by how to react.
When I watched him walk away, I wasn’t sure how to feel. So, I sat down with my G&T and lit a cigarette.
These days, I am quiet – examining the thoughts flying around inside my skull. I find myself drifting away with them, far from the bodies that surround me.
It’s October, and I am reading quietly in Sewanee’s graveyard, looking up every now and then at the autumn leaves.
It’s December, and I am sitting on the ledge of my porch, wrapped in layers, waiting for something or someone as I smoke a cigarette, hands shaking.
It’s May in Toronto, and I am taking a beer out of Mercy’s fridge.
I don’t know why my heart goes into a frenzy when he sends me messages. I am transported back to December, eager to see him again, eager to see where the break would take us. I think about blanket forts, santa brows, snow, the smell of his sweaters, and the way he scratched my head often.
He told me to explore my options, not to snuff out any potential romances I may have with others. I am trying, but why do all thoughts lead back to him? I am not here, but there- with you, wherever you are.
Aside from dwelling on the past, I have been contemplating the visual aspect of my next tattoo, “Even the gorgeous, royal chariots wear out; and indeed this body too wears out.” Wheel of dharama. Reins. Rustic. Dark browns or black.
32 days until I’m 21.
“I feel like I’ve finally been myself. Here, a purer me.”
I think we’ve both been our truer selves with each other. Neither of us put on any airs, and we appreciate each other nonetheless.
His gaze stirred something inside of me. I feel like you showed up in my life at the right time. I really appreciate your presence in my life right now. I’ve learned a lot from you… emotionally, intellectually… about myself…
Rubbing my ankle, he said quietly, “I am really happy I can do that for you. I am going to miss this.”
—
You paused as the song played.
Honestly, nothings even compared to you next to me, next to me.
When the words came to you for the first time, you knew you were hooked
And the pride that you felt at the last page of your first book
And the bravery I forced when I sang to an audience of three
well, it took a million wrong notes just to find a single melody and key
I know since we’ve grown, we plea for clarity
Honestly, nothing’s ever made sense til you were next to me, next to me.
“This is the perfect song, and it sounds beautiful.” My mind blanked for moment. What did this mean for us now? After this conversation? Will he be sad to go?
While I have seen many flit in an out of my life, I know I will be sad to see him return to his other world, as we both abandon the one we built ourselves.
We sped through the highways fast toward Nashville, watching the greenery pass us by. It was Mercy’s second day in the south, and it was my mission to make her fall in love.
I looked up and saw signs for Louisville. How do you feel about driving north? She looked at me, smiling, “I feel good about it. Really good.” And we just laughed. I am really happy you are here. I feel alert, alive, and happy again. This co-dependency worried me before, but I learned soon enough that it is impossible to fight something that is so right.
In the past four nights, we’ve been in three different states. They’ve consisted of long drives, conversations, and laughter. I’ve felt like I’ve been on a continuous high, and I fear the morning after she flies back across the country where responsibilities lie. Back to texts on a screen, as the distance tries to wedge itself between this friendship.
We read quietly together in the afternoon light before he gave in to the heat and slipped away into a dream state. With my head on his chest, the beating of his heart and his breath tickling my hair eventually lulled me to sleep.
“This is just a really great afternoon.” Happiness radiated from his eyes, his smile, and his demeanor. I could only nod my head, smiling in agreement, which was the most my reserved nature would allow.
I suggested we immediately go buy fireworks. I wanted sparklers and smoke bombs. I wanted a long drive with him in any direction.
“Toward Sewanee or Georgia?” I looked up at the interstate signs. There was a fork in the road soon. I blurted Georgia before it was too late, laughing as he sang along to Nicki Minaj. I danced in the passenger seat, wishing summer wouldn’t end, wishing we could always have nights like this.
In the dim lighting of my room, we laid side by side, speaking softly as Day One filtered through my speakers. We had just hopped out of the bed of a truck that my roommate was learning to drive. We sipped on wine and smoked cigarettes, talked about Rugrats, Sewanee, and Bill Cosby sweaters. The smell of Nag Champa wafted through the air, and for the first time in weeks, I felt calm.
“I think I fear the change in places and people during my absence, and sometimes, I fear that what I find significant in moments with others never meant anything to them at all.”
We have the same fears. I write about those moments often, in hopes that one day, those people will find those notes and know… Know that while I made a pretense of being aloof, I remembered every detail of those brief encounters. The look in their eyes as they spoke to me. Their laughter filling the air around me. The feeling I got when our fingers grazed each others for the first time.
“Why am I telling you all of these things?” I laughed, trying to figure out the feeling in my stomach. “For some reason, this feels easy and I am so comfortable right now. Maybe I am projecting this onto you or maybe there is something inside of you that evokes this from me.”
“Maybe it’s both. But I want you to know that I will be here for you whenever you need me, to let you know when you’re being silly. You intrigue me. I like your aesthetics and the company you keep.”
My heart sighed. In him I see everyone I loved. I see my parents, I see every boy that I’ve been infatuated with, my best friends in the past and present.
“I wish this could last forever, though I know it won’t. I won’t bother with the free spirit cliche—” I kissed him before he could finish his sentence.
“I recognize that, and I understand that, come August, you will be going back to New York– to your other world and I will continue to build my life here. But this, this is good for now.”
The ease in which I said this surprised me, but it’s true. I am no stranger to fleeting romances.
It’s the hushed, sultry days like this that make me quiet and slow. I lie in bed watching the smoke of my incense float into the sunlight, swirling around it. All I can hear is Justin Vernon’s quiet voice over the hum of my computer, penetrating my thoughts.
This week has been a whirlwind of madness. Jack and I spent over 40 hours editing two interviews for the SHIFT campaign. There were at least 20 cups of mate involved, if not more, and a lot of hilarious exchanges. We’ve renamed Final Cut Pro- Final Cut Ho and… Final… well, I’ll leave that one to your imagination. It’s a bit vulgar.
As for video editing, I’ve been enjoying it immensely. My favorite part of the process is the sequencing of the clips in order to tell a powerful story. I’m by no means an expert at this, but Jack has been a really great mentor and teacher. I’m excited to do more, especially after shooting on my own.
Heather and I are going to a show tonight. It’s been a while since we’ve done that together, and I’m anticipating the trouble we’ll cook up.
