drowningdaffodilblog-blog

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

girls weekend at the cottage

I looked at you and I smiled. You were inches away from my chest,  your hands gripped my elbows, my mind, my heart. Hannah danced and rolled in the background, music blared, people yelled, but all I could hear was my heartbeat, and yours.

You turned off the light switch, pushed me to the countertop, and pushed your body onto mine.

I remember how your lips tasted of alcohol and sugar and salt.

I didn’t expect it to progress so quickly. But you wanted it to and in a way I did too.

You let your hands slip down my chest, past my torso, onto me. You pulled the strings of my bathing suit at the side of my hips and let the fabric drop to the floor. For a while you teased me with you fingers and I teased you with my lips to yours, then things progressed. I don’t remember every detail, but I remember how it felt. To touch you and to be touched by you. To feel something with someone for the first time in a long time.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

How can one trust love? Love deceives, love lies, love consumes. How can one trust love when certain traits of a person are absent without the presence of it? How can one trust love when it openly deceives the mind, coerces it into a state of infatuation and lust. How can one trust love when it seems to make impossible situations bearable, when it numbs the brain and passes control to the heart. How can love be trusted when it allows one to fall for a stranger, an enemy, a friend. How can love be trusted when it has made me fall for someone who doesn't love be back.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

letter to him

The days/weeks that led up to my leaving are still blurry and unclear. There was so much that I was trying to deal with during that time - I was was injured, exhausted, weak, emotional and hormonal. On top of all that, there was this stress about what was going on between the both of us.  I had gone to the doctor in Clearwater and had testing and examining done for my back injury, and had been ordered off of work for 2 weeks. Because of what the doctor said,  I knew I had to leave, I just hadn’t decided when. With a part of me perhaps searching for a final reason to stay, I initiated a distinct conversation with you a couple days before leaving. Whether or not you remember the conversation doesn't matter, it was significant to me and I remember it clearly. A lot was brought up but the pinnacle of the conversation was when I told you I wanted to try to make things work, and you responded with that you didn’t want to try because you couldn't promise you could commit.

In that moment, without thinking, all I wanted to do was escape and run away. I do that a lot in life, when there's something I feel is out of my control, something that is hurting me, I run. That night I went to sleep heartbroken and lost, but still pretended like nothing was wrong. It hurt a lot but I knew deep down that you were right, that things could never work between us. I remember feeling confident with my decision to leave, knowing in that moment, that there was no reason for me to stay.

If I had only known how quickly things were about to escalate.

the day following,  on July 12th in the afternoon, I got a call from the physician who had examined me telling me he needed me to call him regarding the blood tests we had run. I called him back, he asked me to come in, but I said I couldn’t and asked for the information over the phone. He then proceeded to tell me that the blood tests they had run had come back positive for pregnancy.

Words couldn’t ever describe my fear. It was something I didn’t even know was possible. It first came over me as a wave of shock and disbelief — then quickly turned into terror. All I could think about was running away, as if doing so would allow me to escape from my reality. I couldn't bring myself to even consider telling you, telling you something so vulnerable when (I felt) like I meant nothing to you.

Got up the next morning, went into the office, handed in the doctor’s note and quit my job before breakfast, watched the trucks leave from afar, packed up my stuff, and left within the hour. I never told a soul I was leaving. I did leave you that very short note, I didn't know what else to say, I didn't feel like their were words for how I was feeling in that moment. Didn't feel like there were words for how much of an impact our relationship had had on me, and I didn't feel like there were words for how hurt I felt by you. I was so upset with you that I couldn't bring myself to tell you the truth, I didn't feel like you deserved to know.

I left not because I wanted to vindictively hurt you, or anyone, I left because in every way possible, I was done. I felt so damaged, worthless. I left without regret, without any question in my mind as to whether I was making the right decision. Yet, even though I fully acknowledged my depleted state, there was still this indescribable weight I felt over me. There was still this intrinsic, almost biological message in my brain telling me I needed you.

I felt so lost. There was this thing, this thing in my mind, and now within my physical body, that was tying me to you, and the idea of what could be. Tying me not to what I wanted necessarily, but to what I thought would be the thing that would bring us back together.  It was at that point a whole new wave of emotion came over me, a longing for you, and an inherent need for someone to guide me. Upon arriving home I found myself longing for the idea that you would come back to me, that you would chase me. I found myself wanting to wait for you, because I knew that you didn't know I was pregnant, but surely you knew I was hurt, both physically and mentally.  I almost expected I would hear from you, and if I did, I would tell you the truth if it felt right.

I waited to hear something from you for four days, but there was nothing. Not a phone call, not a message, not a letter.  I didn't understand how, if someone you love just disappears from your life, you could have absolutely no questions and no worries as to whether or not they’re okay. I decided at that point that you didn't deserve to know the truth, I didn't want someone in my life at that point who could so effortlessly let me go without question. I decided that I couldn't tell you for my own emotional recovery and wellbeing,  Because nothing would  have been more damaging than to tell you the truth and you not caring. I booked my flight on the fourth day, and flew East the next. I spent 3 weeks alone in my apartment, absolutely depleted. I cried more in that time than I even have collectively in my lifetime. As a woman, you often think about the situation I was in as hypothetical, and how you would deal with it. And for me, the idea of that situation and the only realistic option I would have to take never bothered me before. But the idea of this thing being ours, the idea of this thing being the only evidence I had to show for my love for you, made the decision harder than any other I have ever had to make in my life. I was so broken, devastated. I couldn’t eat, nor sleep.

I became enveloped by pain and sadness and was physically and mentally sick constantly.  

My appointment for the procedure was booked for August 17th.  I never made it to the appointment though. 3 days before the day I was to have the procedure done, my body took care of the removal itself.  It was both terrifying and liberating. Liberating because I felt it was my body’s way of telling me I had made the right decision, in every account. I was done clinging on to something that was no more, and I miscarried freely and with an open heart.  

I spent the next 2 weeks recovering, and began my school responsibilities like nothing had happened soon thereafter.

I have told next to no one about what I went through, but I have dealt with it in my own way.  

I do not tell you this with the intent to make you feel guilt. I simply tell you because you have a fundamental right to know, and I finally feel at peace enough in my life to open up to you about this. I do so with no expectation of how you might feel about it all, and absolutely no expectations of how you might react.  All that I ask of you is that, as you continue to live and grow, that you always show the women you love consideration and respect. Because in another universe, if I was a different person, living a different life, today would have marked the day that my life would have been forever changed -  and unfortunately, a day that you would be completely oblivious to the significance of, because of the way things went down between you and I. It makes me very sad.  

it is what it is I suppose. the most important thing is that everything I experienced during last summer has allowed me to become a stronger woman. And for that, I thank you.

Despite all that has happened, I love you with all my heart’s capacity, and I wish for there to always be peace between you and I.

No need to feel you must send any form of reply to this letter.

I love you.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

What is the part of this life where you stop and feel the slowing beat of your drowning heart? Provoking the idea that self-control isn’t in the cards for you. That love may be, but not within current circumstances. At what point in your dream do you wake up and think this life is the dream.

As if the instance before you fall into sleep or consciousness, is like the outstretched belining surface of the water. And what if someone told you that sleep is reality, we just don't remember it. Just as we don't remember clearly what our “dream” is.

All a complicated mess, so it is important that we don't let the fundamentalist ideas consume us. For the real content that truly matters is what we do within the time we are granted. Whether we are “living” within a dream or within consciousness; it is how we live that is truly relevant.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

Because you see me and her somehow just found ourselves down at some beach. And I know you, my XY love, you are lost and I am lost, and only being able to recognize sanction in each other, we leap, crash, fall. We do this into the arms of the love we have been waiting for our whole lives, and it is something that I just can't say out loud to you yet. But we are here, and there is nothing I will or could ever do to ever stop what is about to happen.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

sand

I just watch the sun fall from what I thought was a light burning within my chest. I feel like the love between you and I is slowly breaking into grains of sand, distributed to our lovers to come in the mistiness of our future. And perhaps it's because my idea of you is based on nothing.

So let me blow up your world. Let me make you understand what freedom is again. And let me understand why you have demented our love. Why you have made me insane yet saved me still.

Kind of like the feeling when your dad first tells you he is a drug addict, which brings upon you a superficial parallelism because part of you already knew.

And it's at these points where you just have to walk out of the house of what is called life and follow the parallel musical staff of the inevitable crescendo. One can never escape pain, one can only dilute the severity of it.

And here I am in this world where I am walking in a motionless style of movement as glass is shot up around me in this avenue of uncertainty—this avenue we call sanity.

Maybe I'll run into you at the end of this road of blankness and you will grab me as I grab you and we’ll again fall backwards into this deep cold pool of love.

I look at you in the deafness of that black water and never feel so warm, in such incapable love with something so beautiful. I feel the crescendo. Wait by m83, falling for you by the1975.

It's like 1924 again when a love story like ours would fit right into the times. Where the illusion of glamour and money and more money could make you fall in love with your enemies.This toxic strain of love predicting how fucked up humankind was about to get. 

Yet we were so free and so contained by something so preposterously beautiful.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

sick love

I really hope I’m proving you wrong. I hope you know I am not into that sick love type. Sex in scotch stained sheets Purple bruises on my skin and a hell of a lot more beneath that. See I hope you know that I’m not into that sick love type But I am into unconditional love.  That type of love where you can’t breathe without someone, and when they leave you, you kind of leave you too.

[drowningdaffodilblog-blog]

It was good to feel sixteen again. Fuck, I say that like I’m 45 or something. I swear, car sex only exists outside of this realm. The kissing against the door and the looking around to see if the closed restaurant parking lot is a safe spot and the look and the “Wanna get in the backseat?” and the few seconds of sitting, waiting for the lights to turn off before pawing at each other like a couple of fucking animals and the awkwardness of it; of your giant body trying to angle just right to feel my little one and the heavy breathing and sweat that makes the windows fog up so that the little old lady that saw us kissing moments before knows we’re up to no good, “Sorry to interrupt you, isn’t love amazing?” (I smiled at the thought of how awkward it would’ve been if we weren’t actually in love) she laughed before asking for money, “I’m having some hard times myself,” you said (and you weren’t lying), but you gave her ten dollars anyway. Car sex. It all seems too good for this fucked up world.