Lindsay’s Scribblings

I have no absolute proof, but its rare anyone ever does. The most we usually have is conjecture gathered from opinions, speculation, and observation. This is my final note on this subject- I’m naive, but I’m perceptive. I’m innocent, but I’m not blind. And with my eyes I can see the same thing everyone else can. It’s obvious you never got over her, and probably should have waited longer before jumping into things with me (or maybe shouldn’t have gotten into them at all). Equally obviously, she adores you. Just date her again already (this is me being pragmatic and completely serious, happiness= best possible alternative, and I think it would make both of you happy). The only thing I will blame you for is lying (the needle on my trust-o-meter is falling lower and lower, maybe unjustly).
Then again, this is all conjecture, mere hearsay. No proof, simply the intuition of the world in general.
But what else can I make judgments off of? Material evidence consistently conflicts with all testimonies, and actions speak louder than (and in opposition to) words. If I’m wrong I apologize right now, if not then at least we will finally have the coveted openness that was apparently lacking and everything will come to a proper conclusion (one that even eclipses its beginning- something quite acceptable at this point.)

I am addicted to flying
To soaring on an endocrine high
To floating through my door
I am addicted to the feeling I can never ever fall
To invisible support keeping me up
To knowing my feet won’t brush the floor
I am addicted to the fluttering of my heady thoughts
To the adrenaline rush of almost-contact
To the fast-paced pulsing of my heart
And now
I am suffering from withdrawal pains
As my translucent wax wings melt
And the sun, which I momentarily touched
Shrinks back into the starry sky
Waving a mournful goodbye
To yet another curious adventurer

We used to talk. We used to talk all the time. In class, in-between classes, at lunch, when he drove me home. When we weren’t talking in person, we were on the phone, or texting, or IMing. If we weren’t doing one of those, we were waiting for the chance to.
Now, I may get a stray IM, maybe a side-comment. Even those, I know, take a lot of self-pep talking to manage. But before I was the one person I knew heard almost everything that was going on in his life. I was the one person I knew he was talking to at 1 in the morning when we were both dead-tired, the one person he actually kept a continuous conversation going with at all. He was more than just the person I was dating because I don’t ever want to just date someone. He was a good friend, almost as good as those I’d had for much longer because of how much I trusted him, talked with him, and spent time with him.
And suddenly here I am, having to get completely reacquainted with him, as though even the friendship we once had didn’t exist. But the prior friendship was tinged with an innocent lust, and now it needs to be completely clean. So we are starting over and I have to reassess everything I thought I knew about him, everything I thought was constant. I am no longer sure I ever knew him at all, I just thought I did.
And starting over wouldn’t be half as hard, if it didn’t feel like every step I try to take in that direction leads to alienation. Other people can laugh and smile and touch his shoulder while gesturing, with me there has to be a wall. Other people can watch him closely when he talks, if I did (the way I used to) it would make both of us uncomfortable. Other people can sit near him, but I have to keep distance. And even if I didn’t have to as part of an unspoken taboo, I would want to, at least for now- it’s easier that way.
But when every kind thing I say is perceived as flattery in some ill-fated attempt to gain favor, all it does is blemish our relationship farther. I’m tired of not being allowed to care at all when other people can.
The fact of the matter is, I lost more than just someone to go to the movies with, I lost my companion, my friend, and it seems unlikely our friendship will ever be as deep. And I have to pretend not to want it to be.

I suppose the pictures of me aren’t still up on your wall
The same way my name isn’t connected with yours anymore
I suppose the pictures of me aren’t still there as a reminder of holding me dear
The same way my familiar hand is restricted from holding yours
I suppose the pictures of me don’t still draw your attention
The same way you don’t want to meet my eyes
I suppose the pictures of me aren’t still up on your wall
Because that would be too painful
I suppose the pictures of me no longer matter at all
Because you won’t allow them to.

I choose to sit here
And read
And pretend I would never have said anything
And pretend I don’t have an opinion
And pretend I don’t care
I choose to sit here
And read
Even though I know what’s happening
Even though I hate the silence
Even though I remember how it was before
I choose to sit here
And read
Because joining the conversation doesn’t make me a part of it
Because I’m at a loss for words more often than not
Because at one point I would have blushed
I choose to sit here
And read
As though I don’t notice it when gazes linger
As though I’m not affecting normalcy
As though I am perfectly alright, just quieter
I choose to sit here
And read
Because reading is easier than thinking
Because reading is a silent statement
Because reading proves I’m still me

Nothing happened.
Nothing ever happened.
And even if it did
It didn’t mean anything
It didn’t ever mean anything
And even if it did
It was too small to matter
It was too small to ever matter
And even if it wasn’t
It cannot be acknowledged
It cannot ever be acknowledged
And even if it could
It won’t be the same
It won’t ever be the same
And even if it could
It would be a lie.

Watch me when I spin in circles
My skirt following as I swish
Watch me when I talk to friends
The same loud laugh you used to know
Watch me when I read a book
Slowly flipping pages as I bite my lip
Watch me when I walk away
Lost in thought as always

At one point
Not so long ago
I would hope for your gaze
And every now and then
I would become aware
That maybe I already had it
But it was brushed aside
A mistake- I was sure
Something I could never follow up
And when finally I heard the truth
Even then
I couldn’t hold your eyes
There was too much pain,
Too much hurt
Too much wanting
Where wanting was worse
But the gazing continued,
It could never really stop
Looks that told me
The earth was spinning
And we needed to be steady
So finally finally it became allowed
For me to look into your soul
And I was too shy often,
Scared of seeing too much
And now that opportunity is gone
I miss it.

A week later
And I am not allowed to talk about it anymore
“It never happened,” insist the smiling faces all around me
White-outing a blotch over this black-spot in my life
But it did happen
Don’t deny me that much
It all happened
The taboo of the here and now
Says, “Look away, Lindsay”
But it happened
And I am allowed
To remember

I keep telling myself I’m apathetic. It’s my constant chant, my mantra. And I know that I’m lying. The only lie I’ve ever had on this front. I ‘m almost to the point where I don’t care. But I spent so much time caring it’s hard to just stop.
I was talking on the phone to Mandy, just talking (about the last week, but also about the months that came before), and she listened patiently. Finally she said, “You REALLLY liked him didn’t you?” While the whole rest of the day I had been almost okay, that struck hard. I DID really like him. I really really really really liked him. No matter how horrible I had been feeling, I still really liked him. And that shouldn’t be a shock because I had said it aloud before, and before I was allowed to say it. In fact, in the past it had been whispered to me even before I had the chance to say it myself. But I had meant it. One of his emails said, “I have never once had any kinds of doubts about how you feel for me.” Because how I felt about him was genuine. When I said I missed him, I meant it. When I said I loved him, I meant it. And so maybe it shouldn’t be taking me this long to return to normal, but if everyone understood exactly how much I let myself like him, how much I let myself care, maybe they would understand.
Because to my knowledge, and it least on my end, there was no arc of decline. I was concerned about the stress maybe, but my feelings stayed the same, my character stayed the same, everything about me stayed the same. And if (according to him, and our friends) who I was was the perfect match for him, and if who I was was who he wanted, and if who I was was someone he professed to love, and I never changed…. then what happened? He told me he wanted to make me a huge part of his life, and then cut me out of it. And I guess when he said he wanted to date me for as long as possible, somehow in my mind that quantified as more than another two months.

I’m apathetic. I’m apathetic. I’m apathetic.
After all, its not like I ever had any reason to believe that he would care about me, right?