I’m trying to clean as fast as I can
I wonder what feeling I’m running from
When I look at the art supplied filling the closet
That I slept in last night
I feel like I want to cry
My heart hurts
Is there a point to setting up
My own place
If I have no one to share it with
I miss
Feeling safe
Everything just feels
So empty
Just like me
She told me that this was probably our last fight
But if that were true
If one fight was able to erase
All we built together
The world would make no sense
I think
We are meant to fight
A hundred more times
A thousand more times
We are meant to fight each other for the rest of our lives
Until we don’t need to fight anymore
And maybe it’s only then
We might separate
Because
Every time we fight
It feels like the end of the world
But really
It always brings us closer together
Always makes us stronger
I just wish
I was able to be there for her
When we are fighting
To comfort her
Tell her everything was going to be alright
To give her strength to get through it
Ugly Water
My little sloth talks about her ugly water
In a roaring ocean
Of fear and hatred
Roaring outside
Inside her little room
She stands by the room
Holding it closed
Always holding
As she feels the pressure of it
About to overwhelm everything
Leaking
Like the seeping of dread
She looks and
It was a mistake
Because she forgot to hold the door closed
Today I went for a walk. It was cold, but amazing otherwise, I felt happy.
I realized that I don’t feel like myself because I feel so lonely. I miss feeling safe with people that I trust, who understand me. I think about how I lost my art. My dreams, my worlds. And I think more about this artist part of me and I realize I also lost the romantic part of me.
There was always a softer side to me. It wasn’t always about attachment theory and working on myself. I don’t regret going down that path at all, but I feel sad for the Jack who was left behind. The Jack who cries when he listens to the story of two sisters stuck in a Chicago together and one feels she betrayed the other one because she left her alone to sleep in the same bed as the flight attendant: https://www.thisamericanlife.org/175/babysitting/act-two-17
Or Neistat’s story about his girlfriend Candice: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dALypGk3xbI
For me, even by telling the story, shows the depth of their love. They cared enough for these moments to be some of the most important in their life.
I think I always sought out a love story of my own. This is what I loved about college. So many opportunities for my love story to happen. This is why I wanted to learn daygaming, I just loved the idea of meeting someone on the street.
It’s why I liked the idea of dating my current girlfriend. Everything about it felt like a movie. Dating a girl on the other side of the world, and traveling to meet her in person. Finding my little sloth despite everything working against us.
I don’t want to forget the romantic in me. I want to be around people who see the magic like I do, and I feel safe around. People who allow me to get out of the fear and anxiety response long enough to feel more deeply. People who accept my story, who want to hear the truth, not what they want to hear. After all, a story about people being fake happy about everything is not a romantic one.
I think this is at least one part of the art that I’m missing. Art is one part exploring worlds, another part allowing you to feel deeply and effortlessly. Maybe another part is vulnerability, of pain.
This is what “high” art is missing. Feelings are lost behind academic musings. Worlds are exchanged for high philosophy. Pain is exchanged for numb confusion.
She told me she thought I wouldn’t notice
When she only replied to a handful of things
Of a series of long letters I wrote
How could I not notice
When I spend an hour
Pouring my heart out
Waiting every second of the day
For a response
She tells me she likes it when I write long letters
But I have grown wary of them
When I know
Most of it
Will never receive a response
She probably thinks that no response is better than a bad response
But silence is a response
It’s a blank check
For the deepest fears
And paranoia
Lurking in your brain
Letting your mind fill in the spaces
With explanations
For why the reason why the truth was too hard to say
She used to message me and beg me to get on to play
I thought she needed me then
Loved spending time together
We would joke
And talk about life
Little things
These days she plays
Without me
It’s me who asks
And she reluctantly accepts
In the game, she’s all anger and frustration
She hates the game
She hates the teammates
She hates me
And she hates herself
She denied that she ever had fun with me today
Says she can’t remember the last time we played
That I annoy her
That we need to win if we play
That we just don’t work together
“I like small talk,” she says about her new friends
“We are too busy asking about favorite colors”
“For me to be mad”
I remember a time we asked each other our favorite colors
I wonder if it was less special than I thought
Or if her new friends are more special than me
Its doubt that destroys love
Not hate or anger
Doubt eating away at a foundation so strong
It promised forever
Today I worry
If I left
Would she even notice
Over the laughter
Of her new friends
This poem is about feeling like what you thought you both cherished, only you actually cherished. That there wasn’t a connection at the level that I originally thought.
If that is actually true, I don’t feel heartbroken. Only depressed. So incredibly disappointed that everything was not as special as I thought it was. It takes me back to my dark places, wondering if anyone could truly love me.
Part of me knows it’s more complicated than that. That there is still hope for us. Still hope for me.
That calling is very important to me
That I only ask when I really want to
That I’m tired and lonely
That it’s excruciating to see her having fun
With others
When she refuses to play with me
That is why she gives me vague answers
In hopes that she won’t disappoint me
She knows
The lengths
I’m willing to go to
To make it work
Maybe she just cannot give me
What I need
Or maybe
When she’s upset
She cannot see anything but the negative
Forgets all the happy times
Forget the fun we had
How well we work together
Before she stopped listening
The love we shared
Before the angry words
How much she wanted to reassure me
Before she was afraid
How much she liked being mine
Before she wanted to push me away
The nights when she doesn’t want me to get off the phone
And told me I was right
That we always understand each other better
Be more real
On a call
I need rest
A very long one
Away from all of this
So I know
What is best
For me
Focus on what I want
For a moment
It takes strength
To get past all the mess
To true understanding
And to part of a relationship
That is secure and loving
It’s like pushing an elephant
My feet are dug in
The struggle goes on
And on