me, fumbling over commas

road rash

that very last time, i felt it. i knew. i think we both did.

nothing is ever simple. you're either so much or nothing at all, and back when you still had me, i was whatever you needed me to be.

you were nothing at all, that last time. august. i felt guilty, just like you taught me to. i pulled everything out of myself to fill you up because i couldn't stand the quiet. i laughed loudly and made artificial light to shove in my fucking eyes. i smiled as big as i could, cracking my lips for you, to make us normal. i was trying to give myself something i couldn't have. i was forcing it. i was being selfish. or maybe i was just being human. am i allowed to do that, mom? can i be human? please. just tell me before i have to leave you so i don't wonder.

i played some music, you had never minded before. sunlight lit me up and i sang. you didn't, obviously. your eyes never left the road. "i'm not ignoring you," you said, because you always managed to miss the fucking point. i didn't even imply you had been. you turned the music off.

all of the nothing at all you had to give was too much. it was overwhelming. i cried a little bit: quiet, self-pitying. i've always been good at that. (you didn't notice. i was grateful. it's a lot for you to pretend you care, i would never want to burden you with that.) the quiet filled me up and cleaned me out. it went in my bellybutton and my eyes and my ears until i was only skin and quiet and my fucking spine. and then it all flowed out. it took all of me with it. thankfully, the windows were open. it's relaxing, draining all the extra out. numbing? maybe. the real me skidded down the highway. road rash, what a pain. god bless her. i waved at her in the rear view mirror. i said good bye to her every few weeks. i could stomach you that way.

"are you taking me home?"

my skin tightened and my bones cracked under the pressure of your frown. fuck. this is why we can't have nice things. i forget to not call home "home" in front of you. i know it's hard for you to keep your story straight if i don't play along. i'll let you have that. i'll let you think you're my home. i'm sorry i forgot, we can still pretend i'm yours. i promise i won't say anything else.

"do you want me to?"

please. i'd give anything for you to throw my door open and let me fall out. i'd give anything to crawl back to the rest of me so i can cry again. but i settled for not ever being true to myself. i always do.

compromise. noun. forever giving yourself away to feel loved. or something like that.

"was there anything else you wanted to do?" 

you can say yes, if you want. if you want me you can have me. i can stand to be here if i can believe you want me. but i know you don't, i don't want me either.

"no."

i got out of the car. i told you i loved you and smiled. i'll see you next time. can't wait. love you. waiting for you to smile back is like watching someone tie a noose for you. that was goodbye. i knew. i think we both did.