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 it was a mere flickering glance, an imagined hope that other eyes lingered as long as my own did. Any time I thought I felt something it had to be immediately discounted because anything I could have felt wouldn’t have been allowed on either end. And yet the hope persisted despite countless self-inflicted blows that perhaps, perhaps, I wasn’t completely hallucinating after all.
For a little while after I realized the gravity of my situation, I still couldn’t keep eye contact. It was too painful to acknowledge something existed that I would have to ignore; it was much easier to believe nothing existed at all.
When I finally arrived at the point where I was able to look, allowed to, expected to, eyes met mine. I have to admit I didn’t take advantage of this often enough- I was too shy.
And now, its finally getting to the point where I’m not avoided again, although no longer sought after. The looks have gotten past the probing but concerned, “Are you okays?” and instead are conveying shrugs, sarcasm and worry. Indifference often, but not always. Or to counter my raised eyebrows, they say “And your point is? Look away, its not your place to criticize.” Sometimes I’m simply not sure what they mean any more than that we both picked that moment to look up. I’m still watched when I’m reading or looking away like I was at the beginning, and this time I don’t doubt my perception. But the motives confuse me, why? I guess the same way my eyes still manage to cling to his, they just have to. Even if our minds have taken the practical step and begun (or maybe even finished, Lord only knows) disentangling our emotions and thoughts from each other, our eyes are drawn to habit. And habit says it used to be okay. And logic says maybe we want approval, or maybe we scorning it. Maybe we just want acknowledgement. It’s been to much to pretend we never met. But we are both forced to pretend that there was never more than a vague attraction between us.
So nothing happened. Nothing ever happened.

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