It's Hard To Explain... - Writers Forum

faeriedanzer19 · 07-02-2006, 10:10 PM

Disclaimer:

ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT--not to mention not too great writing. read at your own risk. cheers!

this is an excerpt for something i've been writing. it's a kind of random section so it doesn't make much sense but can give a bit of a feel for the piece. thanks for any critiques!

The Story--

Resolution. This is what this entire thing is about. My desperate need to resolve and finish situations that can never be explained or brought to rest. I don’t know how to describe how deeply this troubles me…until a situation is finished it hovers in my mind at all times. A splinter. And it builds and builds and build. Every problem, wish, desire, insult…until I just can not take it any longer. Then I stop sleeping. Then I stop eating. Then I start fucking up…
I need to get over this. Maybe this will help.

---

I guess there’s no avoiding it. I have been cautiously wading into the purpose of this all but have yet to even glance into it’s depths.
It started when I received a request from the lips of someone I love.
It was carefully stated between several last remarks, requests, questions and explanations. Exhausted, emotionally, physically and mentally by the weight of the highly difficult discussion, I acquiesced without thinking.
“Yes. I’ll write our story. Yes. One day, soon, very soon, I will sit down and the words will travel out of my mind and broken heart onto the blank page. Our words will fill the space.”
Foolishly, I promised to start from the beginning. From the first time we locked eyes. Until his last words…the last time I heard his voice. The moments when the line was quiet, and I could hear his steady, strangled breathing. Hear tears choking his voice… I promised to write about us. I swore to tell every horrible, wonderful, minute detail. I promised to write without fear, without thought, impulsively. And now… now I’m so terrified.
Like I said before…I guess there’s no avoiding it…
It’s time to dive in. Hopefully, I remember how to swim…

First straw. Months later. Pulling at the threads. And watching us unravel so beautifully.
Ultimatums whispered in blind rage. This…or…that…now…or…
Losing my mind. Make a choice. Me or it. That substance. Your other lover. Me or it. Please. Baby. Me or it. Tell me. don’t look like that. Please don’t look like your answer will be…
I hope that needle in your arm can figure out how to get inside of you. Because no matter how many times you’ve been in me. Out of me. Inside of me…I don’t know the first.
Crying because I’m second to a substance.
After 3 years. Everything. You don’t look back.
And as you lay in my bed, when I let you back in, I trace tracks on your thighs. Your arms. Your ribs…you never eat. You never sleep. But your eyes are the exact same as the day I fell in love with you. Electric…
And I still don’t know why I’m so attracted to them.
There is still so much to search inside of you. I haven’t even really turned past the first few pages.
When you whisper you love me, I cry. Every word is salt in my wounds.
You make no sense. We make no sense.
But I don’t know how to breathe without you. I just can’t fucking remember…

---

I can taste lies on your tongue.
And it makes me sick to my stomach. We should not be together any more. All signs point to no. All signs point to wrong. But we love the fact that us being so wrong has become so right.
You must be crazy…
They say.
To put up with this.
Just a little…
Months blend into a subtle nothingness.
And then one day, for some reason still unknown, I realize--
Epiphany. Bright and clear and refreshing and disturbing. You just can’t do this another day. You can’t.
So when I see your face again, I let you in on the secret. One second you’re broken. Shaking and small. The next you’re furious, and I’m left trembling and terrified. The next you’re understanding and admirable. Mature and together. Then you whisper words into my skin that must have left a scar because they’re still there…
“Baby…you’ll come crawling back on hands and knees. I’m forever inside of you. Why are you trying to leave what you know you can’t? I’ll be better. We’ll be better. Is that what you want? Darling, love, love, love. I love you like no one ever will. I love you with every fucking inch of my skin. Every thing I know. Try and leave…just try so I can have the satisfaction of being able to accept or reject you when you beg for my forgiveness…”
His nails bit into my wrist as I tried to pull away. And with a smile he quickly glanced at the ring on my finger, turned, and left. It was fascinating to me that me attempting to break up with him left tiny cuts along my wrist. Like self-mutilation. Like suicide.
You ever feel like a song was made for you? Like the person who wrote the words one night was speaking directly to you? Either laughing in your face or showing the ultimate empathy… music and words run through my veins. My thoughts stumble over verses and lines and I think I often wind up in a nonsensical mess. I don’t even know how to decipher myself and what I’m saying. Few things produce as much annoyance and discomfort as this state of being, when trying to pin down a thought is dangerous. How daring are you feeling today? Do you really want to deal with this? The answer is a bold and completely assured- NO. I don’t ever want to confront a huge majority of my thoughts. I’ll settle for confusion. That’s perfectly fine by me… but it rarely is satisfactory for those who surround me.
What’s wrong? You all right? What’s going on?
Leave me the fuck alone. I’m not all right. Nothing.
Some people suck at life. I’m one of those people.

---

I missed No’ like it was my job. Trying to fill hours and moments that centered around him. Especially the morning and nights. When his voice would lull me to sleep with stories and vows and threats. Or good mornings coupled with I love yous. I was a bit of a wreck. I could barely remember how to get dressed or breathe without him. I ignored his calls, attempting to call forth memories of bruises, infidelities, overdoses and deceit but only remembering how lovely his skin looked illuminated by the first rays of sunlight. How he smiled crookedly and kissed my temples.
I need you!
He’d scream into the phone line.
God damn it. I need you.
I need you. Please stop this. Please stop this. I need you.
It felt so good to hear him say what I was beginning to doubt.
I’m nothing. I need you. Please. I need you. Please. Pick up.
I need you…
You know what…--
Me too.

---

I never took him back. His prediction was off. Sort of.

I didn’t come back on hands and knees. He came crawling back to my bed. Resting his blonde head against my chest as tears fell from his eyes. Shaking and young although he was breathing down the neck of 18 by then. He was like my child, in a sick sense, as his confessions poured out and I stroked his temples gently. Forgive me, baby. He whispered to me like I was a saint. A priest. A savior. In all seriousness he swore he worshipped me, that I was the only higher power he felt was worthy of his respect and unflinching devotion. I laughed at this, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. He thoroughly meant it. That terrified me. We made love like it was our religion. Slowly. Deeply. Familiar and new as I bit into my lip. His eyelashes brushing my collar bone as his hips moved against mine. Skin and bones. Skin that was as covered in bruises and cuts as mine. And I loved and hated him for insisting on me. For demanding me.
I never invited him back.
But he came anyway.
And so did I.
Aching. Every muscle tensed. Sighing his name.

---

I had a nightmare last night about him. Woke up, still drunk. Still high. Sobbing. Shaking. Choking on tears and crossing my arms tightly around my stomach, straining to get air. Straining to think.
I like to think I’m better now. That somehow I grew up and away from you. But god damn. I hear your voice. Even when James is whispering into my ear, I hear you telling me how worthless I am. To not say anything. To not even attempted to think without you, because I can’t do it. So now I’ve got to change. Change every motherfucking thing I’ve spent the last few years developing. And I feel like a fucking idiot when James asks me what I want. What do I want? I haven’t the faintest idea.
I woke up crying because I thought you were back. I woke up crying because I know how upset you would be with me. How I’m living now. Thinking. Dressing. And when I least expect it I feel you. Laying in bed next to me. Kissing my fingertips. Whispering French secrets into my skin. Sometimes I close my eyes and I feel you on top of me. Pressing my hands over my head as I struggle. As I beg for you to stop. I taste you forcing yourself inside of me. A hand to my neck. Cutting off the air. And trying to stay conscious. And wondering what I did to deserve this. I try to smile past it. To brush it aside. To forget it.
“I can take what I want from you. Because you’re mine. You are absolutely nothing without me.
I woke up. But I could still feel it…
And hear my pathetic little voice. God. God. God. I need to change I will change I have to change.
You don’t get it…
Some days I am so glad that you’re dead. Most days. How horrible is that?
I. AM. SO. HAPPY. YOU’RE DEAD NOAH.