S A R A

interlude - thoughts

Having him, and then losing him - like this - feeling things no matter the pain made me feel alive. Having this assault of emotions resonating in my mind, in my body caused me to suffer but it also woke me up. This idea of him resonated in my whole body, in the deepest crevices of my mind. It expanded what I thought I could feel, the different state of minds and existences that I could find myself in. To be so completely enraptured, hypnotized by the thought of a person, for at that point it can never be just him. I built and rebuilt his essence in my mind a million times. I died to come alive. I was like a junkie, addicted to the drug. The drug was the electrical current that the thought of his name would send up to my brain. Never enough. Only time molding it into something new. The funny thing is that I finally learned to smile at my pain, not that it didn't hurt anymore, because I realized that this is what enabled me to feel joy. If I didn't care, if every skipped invitation, every passover of the yes, not enough attention didn't irk me in some way then every direct look, the slightest touch of a hand wouldn't hold the great significance that it did. All because not having it, his attention, him, was so dangerous. I didn't need food, I didn't need sleep because this obsession became my driving force, my motive, behind everything I did. Everything I did was for him to notice. Every achievement in those months that I knew him, every step forward was made by me to be closer to him, to recite his acknowledgement. Yet, it seemed that the harder I tried, the less I got from him. Everyone would notice, even if he did he would make no sign of it. This made me feel like trash, like I wasn't worthy, because his gaze was the only one that mattered. I forgot myself. Forgot what it felt like to be happy at the idea of love, because mine was limited by him and by what he would choose to give me. Maybe he could smell my neediness, but I couldn't stop it. The thing that really did it, the paradox, was that the person that I needed attention form the most was the one who I got it from the least. In trying to capture his, I would pick up a slew of other men, always unintentionally. In trying to be near him though other friends, he would pick up my friends. It was a dark circle, and it seemed that the more I tried to modify and bend the same destiny that seemed so good to us in the beginning, the fate that brought us together in the first place, the more it would push me away from him. Of course there were moments where I relished in feeling his eyes on me, his attention turned towards me. But near the end those became fewer. My presence taken for granted. I was so, so sad. I was exhausted and could no longer perform because I outperformed myself in putting in the effort to get something that was never going to be given. Even lying close beside me, he never opened up to truly let me in and I was too shy to reach out. It makes me wonder who made him this way. How? He must have been hurt in his own past to be able to create such traumatic effects upon others. Maybe its because I was younger, more unexperienced that to me everything felt like it took place on a grander scale. Maybe he didn't even feel half as much as me, didn't spend a third of as much time with me on my mind as I did with him. Did not contain a tenth of the dreams that I had of him, he who haunted me even in the dark, especially in the dark.

I don't know what this was and if I was foolish because I failed, whether I had failed.

All I know is that the impact was undeniable. Half a year of my life devoted. The tragedy comes in the fact that I was blindly running myself into a corner. Reaching for something I would never grasp. Fighting for what was never mine in the first place.

How will I be now, to you? Will you remember me as something? A girl? The girl? A passing by, an exotic affair? An annoyance? A lingering presence at the end of the night?

Maybe he loved me once, maybe never. Maybe he used me, and used me again. His never ending conquest for what I don't think even he knows.

6 times.

And yet, I'll never let go.

I can lie to myself. I can close my eyes. I can ignore you, your picture, your messages (for so long) but I'd take it back in a heartbeat. I'd call your name, I'd wait breathlessly for you to call mine.

I'd drink the poison, over and over again. And again just to feel a little bit of what it felt like.

I'm your junkie, hopelessly devoted, and you know it.

Suddenly, that was enough. I didn't need 'dreams' in whatever form to remind me to keep going. I didn't need sedatives to tell me it was going to be line. I didn't need to hide in waiting. I didn't need to wait, thinking it will all change, because I realized that it was all in me already. I didn't need saving. These people that I met, the things I have seen, the places I have been will all live inside of me for the rest of eternity as I know it. No mater what I can always reach out and find those things, if I wanted to. Thats when I realized. My real life has begun.