Wednesday, February 13, 2013


I'd always had an affinity for sitting in unusual spots.

I remember as a child, leaning over the arm of the couch, staring at the popcorn ceiling of my childhood home and imagining, by some design or other, that I had the ability to walk up there, right side up in an upside down world. Not much has changed in the years that have passed, and even now I sit with my legs flung over the arm of the chair, doing my homework in the world of my own design.

My least favorite question in the world was the be asked what I wanted. What do you want for Christmas? For my birthday? For dinner? With the exception of the last (if only at some times) those questions frustrate me to no end.

The things that I want are unattainable.

Perhaps muse-like, perhaps self-deprecating and depressing, but there are no real worldly possessions that I want, that I feel the need to obtain and call my own. Sure, I am human. As a young adult of the 21st century, of course there are times where I want nothing more than a new phone of the finest technology, which will surely be obsolete within the next 6 months. But I didn't need it. I didn't truly want anything at all.

The things I yearn for are the feelings, the memories of times gone past. Things that can't or won't ever come back.

More than anything I wanted to walk through the park of my childhood, in a state far away, on a crisp January evening. Listening to my iPod as I strolled around the lake, through the miniature wildlife reserve. No matter where I was in the park, I could always see my house, just across the street. I spent hours in this park, running or walking my dogs or simply musing about life. What I want most is to be back at that park, able to walk through any day that I pleased.

I spent much of my childhood here, imagining what my life would be.

Never did I imagine what would actually happen. Never did I imagine that the other things I yearned for would come true...and then the illusion could be shattered.

I want the memories from back then back. But there's more. I want the feelings back. I want to go back to the night of my first kiss. The adventure of the night, all culminating back at his house, how we huddled together in his bed for warmth, how he, a boy I hardly knew, held me close as we talked about our lives telling one another anything the other wanted to know. The tension that was felt until quietly, slowly our lips came together, sweet at first, then suddenly full of passion and a hunger to be closer and closer. You didn't even know you were my first.

I want to go back to the night of that dance, when I made a fool of myself and had no regrets, and you were with me every step of the way. For the first time in my entire life, I felt completely free, like everything in the world was finally set in place. When I first realized how much I truly cared about you and I started to believe that maybe, possibly we could actually last.

I want to go back to the night of the movie, when you held me close as I cried before we walked into the theatre. How you fell asleep in my lap and the only thing keeping me awake was running my fingers through your hair. And how we went back home and I truly gave you my full trust. Something that has been accomplished by so few people.

And most importantly, I want to go back to the last night. To change what I said, to force you to talk. For us to come to an understanding. For the closure to be there. Instead of me leaving, crying, and in a panic because I didn't understand what had happened. To me not talking to you for nearly a week. And when we finally did, everything was gone. Including my heart.

I want all of that back. I both want to relive those memories, to go back to those times, but also to erase them completely from my memory. I want to move on from these times, to find someone else who will make new memories with me, who will make me feel even better than even you accomplished. And I want to feel like you're not the only person in the world.

I want to go back to those times as a kid when I imagined I could walk on the popcorn ceiling from my spot on the arm of the leather couch. To all those strolls through the park of my youth, where I didn't know the pain that came along with your dreams coming true. Before I knew the pain of your dreams turning out to be a nightmare.

I want you.

But what I want is unattainable.

So I give them the basic answers: "I don't want anything. I don't need anything. Yes, really." And I go on through life, without a thing in the world because I had what I wanted, there was once a time where I truly desired nothing, and then it all was gone.

I wish I'd known what had been happening at the time.

And I wish I knew why I still write about it. Even to this day.

Do I write in order to justify my not explaining my thoughts to you in the first place?

Do I write in hopes that someday I'll look back at it all and laugh at what a foolish girl I am?

That maybe, one day, you'll be reading this and things will come rushing back and you'll be mine again? It's foolish, and I know that life doesn't work this way. And sometimes what we want, isn't always what we need.

I don't know. I wish I did. I wish I knew why I felt this way, why writing is the only way I can cope, and how I'm supposed to move on because I obviously meant so little to you. A hard concept to believe.

For a brief period of time, I felt like I had everything I could ever need. And now everything is out of my grasp, not mine to have.


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