ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛʟʏ ᴘᴇʀɪꜱʜ

what i would give to stop pretending

im not back from the dead, i just feel bad for publishing every blue moon (not proof read)

april 10

it's been exactly a week since i've left the hospital? i'm not quite sure. everything has been a blur— swirling together to create one big unidentified mess.

i've been at billies house since i left that hospital room, and to say i feel pathetic would not even be enough to describe my pain.

i've sat in bed the entire time. she has cooked for me. fed me. this woman has fucking bathed me. all because she has so much care in her heart to not allow me to break up with her.

because if i am being honest every time it's time for her to hold my chin while she feeds me soup, or when it is time to strip my clothes and let her touch my body i think of the words "we need to break up."

and i say them.
but all she does is shake her head, smile softly, kiss my lips, and continue what she's doing.

i think the idea of letting someone love me is just too complex for my mind.
the idea of having someone cherish me. to care for me as much as billie does. it's beautiful yet so incredibly terrifying.

at the moment she's in front of me, forcing me to take the hand full of pills suggested by the doctors.
i'm ignoring what she's saying as i touch her face. her skin is so soft. like a blanket.

as soft as freshly fallen snow, as soft as silk.

"you're so beautiful," i say to billie. she smiles "not as beautiful as you, mon amour."

i've learned that means "my love" in french. without billies knowledge, this entire week i've been in bed studying french and reading books that i've already read.

because i want to be able to tell billie how beautiful she is in another language.  it's special to me.

"now let's take these" billie hands me one pill at a time as i down them.
"what'd i say about this," she says as i drink the rest of my water. billie takes off my hood, as well as my hat before kissing my lips.

her head leans to the side as she stares at me. "i'm so blessed to be able to have you."

"you're blessed to be taking care of me?" i scoffed, billie hums "yes."
"why do you continue to burden yourself with me billie," i ask her with a laugh. she looks at me again, this time eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted.

"you're not a burden, i wish you knew how much i love having you around," billie says, leaning her head into my lap.
i won't say it hurts only because she looks comfortable already. "even if i'm 'taking care of you'— i think of how i'll remember this moment when i'm old."

"i'll think of how much joy you bring me and how much je vous aime."

i hope i get to see billie when she's old and withered. with gray roots and blue eyes dull.

"i can't wait to see you as a little old lady," billie says with a laugh. i chuckle, ignoring the fact that i know billie was trying to make me forget about dying.

"you'll be short and wrinkly," i say "and i'll still be taller than you."

billie laughs "i am literally taller than you dawn."

i shake my head "no you're not."
this conversation between who was taller has happened at least five times now and every time billie swears she's six foot, and that she's just towering over me when in reality she's exactly two inches taller than me.
(which technically isn't a lot.)

"old people shrink you know," billie says "maybe we should invest in a stepping stool now.. just in case."

i hit her playfully "shut up."

"you shut up," billie says leaning up to kiss me.

pretending feels great, pretending feels like making your own reality. i like pretending.

because it makes me forget everything for just a moment, and for that moment of time i feel free.

i know all throughout life we fake things. like when i was a child i nearly drowned in the ocean from pretending to be a mermaid, yet here i am alive and— partly well.
when i was in high school i pretended i was british, and it went on until graduation when i finally said i wasn't a foreign exchange student from london. (i don't know why they believed me in the first place)

and now i sit here with my girlfriend pretending to be an old married couple. pretending we'll be together until the end of time.
pretending i'll live long enough to see us sitting on our house porch, rocking in wooden rocking chairs as we stare and smile at our kids running along the sand.

what i would give to live in those moments, to place myself in new environments, and grow in tranquility and happiness.
what i would give to stop pretending, to make those thoughts reality.

what i would give to just live, to not think about what could be but to just— be.

856 words