#hey remember the catholic guilt this part made you feel over thinking you deserve love

[just-an-enby-lemon]

The thing about "love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling" is that it really doesn't fit marriage proposals because it is actually a sad and very catholic coded tbh sentence about humility and worthiness from someone who was at their lowest and it ressonates with me for the parts I agree but also for the parts that I don't and that make me think of an anxious teen on his knees doing one ot the most important rituals (the Confirmation) for a religion he doesn't really believe and that doesn't really accept or believe in him because he wants to make his mom proud and happy (De Profundis was hard for a lot of reasons but I was not expecting my catholic upbriging to be one of them).

The other thing about "love is a scrament that should be taken kneeling" is that everytime someone points out it's not actually about romance they complete it with "is tots about bjs" and like I can see why better than I can see romance but previous perfomance does not equal future results Wilde can write things that aren't puns nor inuendos (shocker I know). So it's not about blowjobs. But like if you want to use it as so, go wild, have fun. Just don't spread it as if it was intencional.

[whiskey-bumblebee]

I Want Candy

Pairing: Pale/Reader

Word Count: 1953

Year: (after Raw, before Vacation)

A/N: This one is a little bit sad but nothing awful. Extensive discussion of Pale being a father (not related to reader) consistent with character’s backstory. Mostly plot, sorry! Mentions of condom-tampering by Pale’s ex.

You’d noticed Pale buying things that were a little out of the ordinary for him. Twizzlers? Sure he’d bought them once or twice when he was stressed, but pop rocks? Skittles? Fun dip?

Then you noticed the packing tape, the little boxes he’d been buying. Most curious of all, sheets of thick cardboard. And marbles.

One night, you got up for a drink of water and found him in the kitchen, bent over the island as he measured out some cardboard.

“Pale?”

“Jesus fuck!” Pale breathed your name as he turned around and saw it was you. You leaned to the side, trying to see around him.

“Look, I didn’t wanna say anything but... What’s happening?”

Pale cleared his throat and stretched out his back, leaning side to side. Must have been leaning over for a while.

“Uh, you remember my kid, right?”

You nodded.

“With Halloween coming up, he’s not allowed any candy and I thought I’d send him some. Not fair if all his friends get to go trick or treating and he doesn’t, you know? His mom, she’s uhh... Not a very nice lady. Kid deserves a chance to get all shot up with sugar now and again. Part of growin’ up.”

You squinted, eyes adjusting to the light in the kitchen after being asleep for a while. 

“So the marbles?”

Pale nodded and gestured for you to look. “I put false bottoms in all the little boxes I send him. The post office doesn’t give a shit because it’s clearly candy right? Hell, even if it was heroin, they’d probably let it through. Anything going New York, Miami ain’t worth their trouble. So, the story is that my kid is having a marbles phase. But the good marbles are the ones that aren’t common in Miami. Gotta come from Canada, that part’s true. So I get them shipped here cos they don’t ship Toronto to Miami, only Toronto across the border. Also true.”

“Hang on, so your kid’s having a marbles phase?”

“Nah, that part’s bullshit. He’s smart, made that bit up, found a company in Toronto that makes good marbles, according to his friends, now he’s got a perfect excuse for getting a bunch of packages from me. Marbles go in and out real fast, who knew?”

You smiled and rested your head on Pale’s back. “He’s like you then, huh? Smart, resourceful. Gonna have to watch out when he gets old enough to work in the restaurant industry.”

He turned around and wrapped you in his arms. “You think I’m smart?”

“Mhm. Einstein level shit, all the logistics you do.”

Pale let you go and turned back to the packages. “Been doing it for a week or two now so he can start a decent stockpile under his bed or wherever the fuck.”

“You wanna send him a big one for Halloween?”

Pale worked for a moment, considering what you’d said. 

“I don’t know how we’d get away with it. Mom’s Catholic, she isn’t big into Halloween. Devil’s work and all that. Apparently she only likes holy spirits, not just the regular spirit schmucks. Poor guys. Reckon they get that kinda discrimination from a lotta folks.”

You chuckled tiredly, then yawned. “I gotta get back to bed. Do this during the day, alright? Ain’t gotta hide from me.”

“Baby,” Pale turned around and took your hand. “It ain’t that. Well, I didn’t wanna upset you by talking ‘bout her, but it ain’t that. Angel, I just ain’t got time during the day. By the time I get home, my eyes are shot from being up so long. Hands are shakin’ from holding a knife, or grippin’ the steering wheel. Gotta rest for a bit before I’m good to go again.”

Sadness fell over your face, you felt it. Your eyebrows drawing together, frown pulling at your chin. “Pale...” You stroked your hands over his hair, gathering the hair at his temples and pushing it back. 

He kissed your palms. “C’mon, I’ll come back to bed with ya. You can cut the things for the bottom of the boxes, you got littler hands that’ll actually fit in the fuckin’ scissors.”

**

“Pale, you know the thing you did before you met me? Before you had your current job?”

“Can’t say it out loud, dollface, but yeah.”

“Did you ever do it in Miami?”

“Yeah, real good at it too. Cops are slow over there. Fuckin’ alcoholics.”

“Are there any guys you trust enough to let them near your house?”

“Yeah. Couple of guys came over a few times, said they were friends from work. Trusted ‘em with my life.”

“Any one in particular come to mind?”

Without skipping a beat, Pale nodded. “Ethan.”

You nodded. 

“What are you getting at, huh?” Pale glanced at you for a moment, away from the road.

“Just thinkin’. What if we made that Halloween package for your son, got Ethan to deliver it early in the morning or something? Leave it somewhere he knew to look?”

Pale was quiet for a while, then slowly began to nod. “That’ll work. I can call Ethan, tell him there’s a package I wanna send to the house. He won’t ask questions. I’d do the same for him. Then call the kid and tell him where to look.”

**

It was childlike, the fun you had with Pale putting the gift together, assembling candy in all the colors of the rainbow into an altogether excessive box. You only wished you could see the look on his face when he opened it. The thought sent a twang of pain through your chest. If you wanted to see his reaction, how bad did Pale wanna see it?

“Pale?”

“Yeah?”

“When’s the last time you saw him?”

Pale drummed his fingers across the coffee table, expressing a guilt he couldn’t name out loud, allowing the feeling to bubble out of him through his hands. Maybe that’s why he liked the piano.

“When I left Miami.”

You swallowed and nodded. It wasn’t the right time to ask. 

“Terrible dad, huh?” Pale was turning inward, caving into his ribcage so he felt like he didn’t have to look at you. 

“Pale, terrible dads wouldn’t be sitting here, making a beautiful little box of candy to send all the way to Miami. A terrible dad wouldn’t be staying up all night shipping candy hidden in boxes of marbles.”

You shuffled across the carpet and rested your head on your shoulder and your hands on his thigh. 

“Thanks angel. Just a terrible husband then?”

You huffed a laugh and kissed his cheek. “Yeah. I’ll let you have that. I’m sure she’s a worse wife than you’re a bad husband. I guess good husbands don’t fuck girls from Manhattan.”

“Girl from Manhattan,” Pale corrected. “If she had any lady parts left she’d be doing the same thing, someone from Jacksonville. Fuckin’ shame they’ve all turned to dust.”

You laughed and turned your face into Pale’s shoulder. “What’s his name? What’s he like?”

Pale shook his head. “I’m not a good dad, never had the whole moment where I fell in love with him. He’s alright-looking, mostly looks like her, but he’s got my nose I think. He’s a math kid. His name’s Joseph, I call him Joe. Typical of her to call him something like Joseph. Surprised she didn’t go with a saint name.”

He lifted the box. “Jesus, this is heavy. I think we’re done. Wanna help me do the ribbon?”

You nodded and pressed on the lid, hovering your finger over the ribbon as he tied the bow.

“I love you Pale.”

He looked at you when he finished adjusting the bow. “Yeah?”

You nodded. He nodded.

“I love you too. Know I don’t say it often enough, but I do. Love you more than anyone else I’ve ever known. And, uh, it’s nice. Not doing Halloween and everything alone. It’s hard sometimes when kids come knocking and there’s a kid with a little mop ‘a hair that looks like him.”

“I wanna kiss you so bad,” You breathed. 

He smiled and ran the pad of his thumb over your chin. “The girl from Manhattan wants to kiss me huh?”

You nodded, smiling like a lovestruck fool. Smiling as a lovestruck fool.

“C’mere then.”

**

brrrrriiiiiiiiiinngggg

brrrrriiiiiiiiiinngggg

“You expecting a call, angel?” Pale mumbled into your skin. 

You nodded and yawned. “Pick it up for me?”

Pale picked up the phone.

“Pale speakin’ but you’ve reached me and my girl, how can I help ya?”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh, then watched Pale, waiting for a reaction.

“Joseph?”

“C’mon Dad, you know I don’t like my big name.”

Pale looked over at you, tears in his eyes. He took your hand in his and held it tightly.

“Happy halloween bud. Figured mom wouldn’t want you to go trick or treating so I went for ya. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Do I ever! Thanks dad, you’re the best!”

“Everything looks good? Nothing you don’t like?”

“I don’t like sweet tarts but everything else looks so good.”

“That’s good, kid. You gotta go to school or something?”

“Yeah, I got about five minutes before the bus comes. The girl at your place said I should call if I had time.”

“Thanks Joe. It’s good to hear your voice. You got a phone in your room now?”

“Yeah, my friends all have them and we call when the weather’s bad and we can’t play outside.”

“I should call you more often then, huh?” 

“Mom said you’re too busy.”

Pale scowled.

“Never too busy to catch up with ya. Listen, call me whenever it suits you, right? If I ain’t home then the lady can chat with ya and let you know when to call back.”

“What’s her name? She nice?”

Pale spoke your name so reverently you felt like a goddess. 

“She’s great. She wants to meet ya sometime.”

“That mean you’re gonna come to Florida?”

“We’ll see, no promises it’ll be soon, but sometime.”

“I miss you, dad. It’s funny, I don’t even know what you look like anymore. You could have grey hair like an old man.”

Pale carded a hand through his hair and grinned. The movement sent the tears welling in his eyes streaming down his cheeks.

“Hey, have some respect for your old man, huh? My hair’s still black, eyes are still brown. Is your nose still crooked from when you broke it playing football?”

There was a pause. You could imagine Joseph tracing his nose with a finger.

“A little. There’s still a-”

A pause again.

“Sorry dad, I gotta go. Bus is here.”

“See ya, Joe. Have a good day.”

“Bye!”

The receiver clicked.

Pale pulled you close to him and pressed his face into your chest.

“You see any grey hairs?”

You kissed his hair. “None. Still sexy as ever.”

“You hear what he said? You’re the best.”

“He isn’t wrong.” You ran your fingertips over Pale’s shoulders. “You’re a good dad, Pale.”

Pale hummed. “I wish I’d had a kid with you instead.”

“You know I don’t really want kids.”

Pale huffed a laugh. “I don’t either. I like Joe, but he wasn’t meant to happen. She poked a hole in the condom we used and it ripped. She told me the truth about it when she went into labor. Said it was her duty to have kids, even if I didn’t want them.”

“I’m so sorry,” You breathed. “That’s terrible.”

He sat up and shrugged. “Just wish you’d done it instead, wish I met you first. I’d stick around if it was you.”

You nodded with a soft smile. “I’d stick around too.”

[missouris-googlehistory]

A change of hearts | chapter VIII

A/N: I am so sorry I haven't updated this story in so long, I've been dealing with school and depression honestly. Sorry if everything isn't super politically correct I am not European so I am a bit stupid on their political happenings. This isn't meant to be offensive to anyone.

-----------------------------------------------------

For a long time things had been going well between Ludwig and Francis. Their relationship blossomed and Germany eventually proposed, with France happily accepting the offer. However they knew there were challenges ahead. The first obstacle was their fellow nations.   

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! FRANCE HOW COULD YOU!?" Was the first response exclaimed after Germany formally made the announcement at a world meeting. The other nations were equally as confused and disgruntled with the match. England marched right up to the German, "YOU BRAINWASHED HIM OR SOMETHING DIDN'T YOU!?". Ludwig, offended by such a notion retorted. 

"Of course not." In a polite yet stern tone, 

"Angleterre that's rude of you to suggest! Even for a connard like you!" Francis stood up to defend his partner. 

"OH I'M BEING RUDE FOR TERRORIZING YOU!? THE MAN THAT HELD YOU PRISONER? THE ONE WHO DESTROYED NOT ONLY YOUR COUNTRY BUT COUNTLESS OTHERS!?" Germany immediately left the room, sensing that he wasn't wanted. A fist fight broke out as perusal between the two nations while the others pondered and discussed the proposal. 

Italy and Japan had followed Germany to make sure he was ok, the waves of guilt hit him all over again. "Maybe Britain's right, maybe France just pities me...maybe I never deserve a second chance or love at all..." He put his head in his hand. 

Italy rubbed his back, "That's not true at all! Everyone deserves love and kindness! Japan and I love you!" Japan nodded in agreement. Prussia who was peering a nearby window saw Germany's sad face. 

He banged on the glass. "Who made you cry like a little baby!? That's totally unawesome!" 

"Just go away Prussia, I want to be left alone." As he muttered the phrase America popped out of the doorway. 

"Yo Germany dude we need a little help in here!" 

"Huh?" The Axis trio went back inside to see France and England on the floor while America tried to separate them. 

"FRANCE DUDE LET GO YOU'LL KILL THE OLD MAN!" 

"YOU DID IT! YOU KILLED HER! I COULD FORGIVE GERMANY A THOUSAND TIMES OVER BUT I WILL NEVER FORGET WHAT YOU DID YOU BASTARD!" England was turning blue in the face, 

"That was six hundred years ago you crazy frog!" 

"Frankreich! Ludwig wrapped his arms around the Frenchman's waste and pried him off. Arthur finally stood up and recovered, the others starring at the scene. Ludwig was holding Francis and whispering "it's ok" to help calm him. 

"Let's go back to the hotel so we can all calm down." The German suggested. 

"Why?" England snapped back, "You two can leave the rest of us will continue the meeting."

Ludwig was not one for bragging but Arthur was getting on his nerves, he growled and snapped back, "How are you going to hold a meeting without the two most powerful European nations? You can't talk about the European Union issues anymore since you backed out like eine Muschi!" The room fell silent, Ludwig was not to curse in a formal setting. Arthur stepped back a bit. 

"Well at least let us discuss this 'engagement' of yours." 

"There's nothing to discuss!" 

"We're nations we can't just marry whoever we please!" 

"Oh for Gott's sake do you watch T.V? Or do you not own one because you're so old. I've never seen two world leaders have more sexual tension unless you count Churchill and Roosevelt." 

To which Arthur and Alfred yelled. "HEY!" 

Francis sniffled and looked up at Ludwig. "Allemange it's fine don't worry. Can we just go back? The two of us?" 

Ludwig sighed in defeat, "Fine." The two men gathered their things and left the world to decide their fate.



Back at the hotel they tried to relax, Ludwig poured himself a drink. "Why do you always attack England?"

Francis chuckled and laid on the bed. "Because Mon cher, he is a dick."

"And I'm not?"

"Oui but a cute one."

"Ja but why am I more deserving of forgiveness than him?"

"He killed the love of my life. My very soul was crushed. Not to mention all the other dickish things he did. I know he gave me the plague."

"The plague spread everywhere Liebling."

"Oui but he started it."

"Whatever you say." Ludwig took another swig of his drink



Back at the world meeting it seemed more like a riot than anything else.

"I don't see the big deal dudes, being gay is gay. Who cares? I don't."

"It's not a matter of gay or not, at least not in most countries; it's a matter of alliances." England tried to school the American in politics.

"Oh yea cuz you and France are best friends. Who would marry Germany for the sake of an alliance anyway?" Again the room fell silent. Italy almost raised his hand however his brother smacked it down.

"I don't think it's really fair to pick on the guy eh?" Spain retorted. "Germany mentioned it himself, their bosses get along really well. They old the European Union together Si?" On this most everyone could agree. "Heck I was married to Austria for awhile, it wasn't that bad!" To this the Austrian flushed in embarrassment; Hungary twitched ever so slightly. However the room filled with laughter.

"He is still a person and should be treated as such." Belgium spoke up, which was a surprise to many of the nations. "The world needed justice for what he had done and it was served. Most of our people have moved on and don't even remember the war. His punishment was paid. Even if we don't like to think about it he suffers too."

"Belgium...can you really forgive him?" England asked with concern and shock. Poland was still very angry and made it very clear to the rest of the world. Many other countries had done the same. Yet Belgium and France were different.

"At first I really didn't want to. During one of my visits to France's house we shared what had happened to each other...He told me about how he forgave Germany because you should not live with that kind of hatred towards another human in your heart." 

"Well France is Catholic, you don't have to share his beliefs Belgium, you're lucky he didn't get you pregnant. You have every right not to forgive him, just like Poland." England tried to rationalize her anger, Poland agreed with him as well as a few other nations.  

"Joat but living the rest of my life being angry at my neighbor who I have to see a lot isn't helpful to anyone. Especially me, we aren't humans. We make sacrifices. You and France don't get along well but you still work with each other. Germany still works with Russia after all he's done." Suddenly the energy in the room shifted; It became dark and ominous as everyone turned to the innocent looking nation. "And America."  She quickly added and began to retell the story of the Berlin wall and all that Germany and his people had suffered. "We need to lay this to rest; Maybe their marriage is the best answer. Maybe we can all find some kind of happiness in this. We shouldn't deny him happiness when he's grown so much as a person." 

"Ja, I agree for once." The focus shifted to Austria. "He isn't the only one to blame, and it isn't like we haven't done bad things to each other before. The Napoleon wars were a mess. England killed Joan of arc, and conquered a lot more of the world than he ever did. Belgium had issues with the Congo, Hungary and I had issues with the Serbians," Though he would never publicly admit he was the cause of the first world war. 

"Will their marriage be like most peoples or is it like ours?" Lithuania piped up. "Because they're two guys and we've had arranged negations with two guys before but this isn't for legal reasons, so like...what about the countries who still...don't recognize that stuff?" The focus was again negatively drawn back to Russia and many of the eastern European countries, the Asian nations watched in silence.  

"WELL THEN FUCK THEM DUDE AM I RIGHT!?"  America very loudly interjected the awkward silence. "We basically said their bosses want some kind of weird alliance thingy so whatever! I say we let them be happy! If Francy-pants likes sausage dude why do we have to tell him what's wrong or right?  Like Emma said we're not mortal and unfortunately we all gotta get along whether we like it or not. Yea to us it might feel like it was just yesterday but to the rest of the world it's history, and our pain eventually goes away. I'm not mad at Britain dude for being a giant douche. I got a cool holiday to celebrate! I get to piss him off!" 

"WHY YOU-" England was cut off by laughter. No one really dare to go up against the loud mouthed American, at this point not even Russia cared anymore about the German-Franco union. The meeting was quickly adjourned afterwards and everyone went back to the hotel. 

Luckily the two were met with love and support, everyone decided to go out and party a little since Germany did announce they were now formally engaged. It was cause for celebration, to forgiveness, happiness and a new beginning for everyone. 

Translations: 

1. Frankreich: France - German 

2. Eine Muschi: A female body part - German 

3. Allemagne: Germany - French

4. Mon Cher: My love - French

5. Leibling: Love - German 

5. Joat: Yes - Western Flemish 

[indy-and-her-bones]

The Unrequited love poem

(Rather than doing something new for this prompt, I’m using a piece I started writing this summer for a little collection of unsent love letters I plan on putting together one day. I’ve been looking for an excuse to post it and this seems like the perfect opportunity. Now suffer my drama and unedited work.)

I don't even know where to start with you.

Love stories always have an air of fantasy, even the sad ones. I’ve always thought heartbreak was either beautifully tragic or fueled with indignant rage. No inbetweens - the lover is a jerk or the one that got away. But you were my gray area. You were real, and that's what makes it difficult. 

I can't think of you as a friend, I can't think of you as a lover. I don't think of the nights we spent wrapped up in each other or the nights we spent just sitting in comfortable silence. Every time I try to write about the beginning, all I can think of is the middle and the end. The way you looked at me at that party and leaned in just a little too close, the way you rested your head on my shoulder after a long day. All I can remember is that messy in between. How the muted warmth of mutual affection was accompanied by the impossible to escape reality that was missing each other in time in space. Wrong place, wrong time. No cure for that. Might as well grin and bear it.

 And I think we were pretty good at that.

Besides, I was always far more affectionate towards you. I don't know exactly why. Maybe it's because I'm an old romantic at heart, and you’re such a genuinely good person that I held on to the sweet small taste I got of getting to be yours. Or maybe it's because I have a vein for the dramatic and tragic. Most likely, it was a little of both, combined with the fact that even it hurt what we had was a welcome distraction from the static in my mind. 

Of course, you probably know all of this. You’ve always been as honest as you could be with me, and I appreciate that. I do. In fact, I got over the first time you said you couldn't be with me. It hurt like hell, but in a kind way. You weren't being cruel, you were looking after yourself and in some part of it, after me. I was glad to have you as a friend, and I admired you for doing what was best for yourself. (For the record, I still am, and still do.)  You seemed so strong, so mature. I looked up to you. 

But the second time was a betrayal. You were drunk enough to kiss me, drunk enough to convince me that your affection hadn't truly waned, and drunk enough to take me home. You were also drunk enough to forget any of this happened. I guess waking up next to me was a surprise. Not that it stopped you from coming on to me again. Didn’t matter that you couldn’t remember how I got there, or what you said to get me there. Hey, as long as I’m there, right? Might as well make use of me before you break my heart again. And oh lord, did you! You told me that drunk you was doing what sober you really wanted to do, but what he was sensible enough not to. Sober you was smart. Sober you didn’t get involved with me. 

I liked you too much to upset you with my pain. I shrugged it off. No, really, it's fine. It's really fine. I can't remember the last time somebody I cared about so much had hurt me so badly, all while trying to shrug it off as a wacky drunken escapade instead of a case of you lying to get me into bed with you again - whether you meant to lie to me or not, I don’t think I’ll ever know. I don’t want to know. I give you the benefit of the doubt. 

But the unkindest thing was admitting that a part of you really, truly liked me. That was the point of no return. You planted seeds of terrible hope. They still grow, the dark leaves blocking out the sun and the sharp vines creeping up my throat and choking me. It's hard to forgive you for that. You created a hopeless fool.  And then you kicked me out of your house so you could drink with your friends.

But that what you did. You get drunk and you don’t have a care in the world. So I followed in your footsteps, and my families footsteps, and my old lovers' footsteps, and I drank and smoked until my stream of consciousness was no longer clear. They weren't my words, they were my feelings, pouring out as a messy mistake that I really don't regret. 

Because it was with those open gates that you found me in the crowd that night. Entirely drunk and entirely happy, you were having the time of your life. Bragging about how much you had drank. That drove the dagger in deeper. You were ecstatic with your sins and I was rotting because of them. I felt slighted and stupid and unimportant and furious. The seeds of hope were a lie and yet they grew nonetheless. I spoke without thinking:

"You stop drinking, before you break another girl's heart."

You were stunned. God, how are you so smart and yet so stupid? Your response only made it worse: Guilt. How could you only feel guilty now, after everything? How could this be the first you knew? It swept over your face and only then did an ounce of the pain you gave me return to you. You spoke softly, incredulous and defeated:

"Did I really break your heart?"

Did you really? I didn't have an answer. All I could do was avoid your eyes.

"You opened up some old wounds".

You move closer towards me, or maybe you were just pushed in by the crowd. You lean in but don't touch me. I can feel you struggling to find words. You give a sad half-laugh, still shocked that someone would have liked you enough for you to hurt them.

"I'm... really sorry. You don't deserve that. You deserve better than me."

Somewhere between the truth of that statement and my intoxication, I find my tears and like my words I'm unable to control them.  

"Yeah, I do". I say it and it feels like a lie.

This is the first time I've been really, truly honest with you. And my god, it burns. You walk away to continue your party, awkward and confused. I find my tears impossible to stop and leave with the hopes you hadn't seen. You didn't notice last time, how could this be different? I make it home and I don't tell anyone.

Crying over you at this point felt like a reflex. It was hardly something I wanted to do. It seemed to happen without my permission. I come back to my senses slowly. I think of what my mother would say if she knew I was crying like this over a boy, and I remember the 14-year-old girl who looked up to me to be an example of taking care of yourself first, and I remember Daniel, so sweet and so gentle, checking up on me the first time you broke my heart like I didn't know what he was doing and I just can't disappoint a nice Catholic boy from Alabama, I just can't, so I chalk the night up as a loss and go to bed. I wake up foggy and exhausted. But it’s sunny out. So I get out of bed. It's a hollow victory. But a victory nonetheless.

You don't mention it in the morning. No dreaded "Can we talk?" text where I can feel the pity through the screen. I tell myself you were too drunk to remember me, again. But that feels like a lie too.

You trickle back into my life in the days after that. You're warmer and softer and make an effort to see me. And I know you remember. But we don't talk about it. You must have assumed that I forgot, too. Unfortunately, we're not all blessed with your ability to black out the harm we do to others. It was the only time it felt like you were sorry. Sober me convinced herself that you had noticed the pain you caused, not that it had taken my drunk self breaking down in the middle of a parade to make you actually see me. I'd like to think our friendship has actually recovered from that. I think we have something nice, though it's strained by something sad. Those seeds you planted haven't grown in the while. I've learned to prune the choking plants that grew but I can't really get rid of them. They get smaller every day I don't talk to you, and return to size once you come back. I hold you dearly as a friend, and bitterly as a lover. There's the us that was something more than nothing and the us that never dated. It's like living in two dimensions at once: One where it all went wrong and one where we never let it live. And here we are, in the gray area.

So know this, please. You were the best guy I've had and you're also the one who's hurt me the most. And even though I'm enjoying my loneliness, on the cusp of truly becoming who I want to be, I can't get you out of my head as my star-crossed one who got away, though trust me, I know- that's giving you far too much credit.

I really do still value you as a friend. You’re a great person, and I don’t regret anything that happened. Nobody’s perfect, right? And you tried. You really did.  But that's one of the many beautiful things about you- you love to look on the bright side, and to approach every situation with the kind of hope and love that I aspire to. You can't see the pain. To move on, I really need you to know how deep that cut went, and how deep that pain runs. You know all the fun stuff. I needed you to see what I was holding back so we could have the fun stuff. 

You’ve been gone for quite some time now. You talk to me here and there, about the places you want to go and the places you can’t go - New Orleans, Oregon, New York. Maybe you’ll come back, maybe you won’t, nothing is clear. Maybe I’ll stay, maybe I won’t. I guess that’s the fun thing about our friendship - who knows what’s going to happen next! All kidding aside, I get the feeling that you’ll always be in my life in some way or another. If there’s anything I’ve learned from you, it’s flexibility. You can’t be in control of what happens, but you can be in control of how you react. The band plays on.

Take care of yourself. And come home soon.