Stream of Con-shus-ness for June 7th at noon.
I am fan of the term, comes by it honestly.
My anxiety? I come by it honestly; at least, that's what my mom says.
Sometimes I wonder if this wouldn't be so hard if i didn't know you really did care, once upon a time. Sometimes I wonder if even remember that I'm alive. You're much like me three months ago, and I'm sure you can't imagine how happy that makes me.
When his arms are entwined with mine, and I can't see anything but the faeries dancing in his eyes, lighting them in different colours, like the faeries in Fantasia, you know that part, where they're making it autumn and wnter and spring... I can feel his breath on my face, and I can hear him saying my name and feel him saying how much he loves me, I don't need you telling me I'm your tiny gypsy. I forget that you used to make my heart skip in all the best ways, and that you knew all the right ways to touch before your fngers turned into fists. When did that happen, and did you stop loving me on that day?
I'm never going to be the girl you wanted me to be, and while I don't know who I'm becoming, I know it's nothing like what you really want. Just like I know you're not what I wanted, either. Really, our fantasies about states and cereal were just that, and maybe we believed a little too hard that we were different.
Not that there's anything wrong with not being different. It happens to everyone, except to your parents and your brother. I'm sorry I made you the black sheep once again. Sorry your beautiful family will never be able to look at me again, talk to me again. He told me your dad looked like he cared for a moment, and that's the biggest consolation I have.
Do you remember that night when your mom found out about my mom, and took us out to Nara and kept saying that I needed to talk and that she could help. For some reason it's linked in my mind with that day at the kitchen table where we all sat awkwardly until we all laughed and your mom said seriously, "Ok, it's time to talk about the elephant in the room." And I tried to look anywhere but down.
I keep thinking if I disappear without telling anyone, that will be the reason that no one misses me. Not because no one knew me, because no one cared. I seem to remember a vague promise, in the back of my mind from five years ago, that I'd never let myself slip into the shadows again, but there you were, and we held back, I don't know what was wrong with us, I'd take it all back if I could.
I'm only doing this because I have some god damn book that tells me it's better if I pretend that you're right in front of me and I let out all my feelings without holding back and stuff. I don't think I'm ready to actually yell at you yet, or ever, so lately I've been writing to you a lot and I think I'm going to go take a shower because I feel gross and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to cry and that feels really great and next time I think I'll write about moving to Charlotte.