I’d like to be a stronger person and say that like a beloved birthday balloon caught in too strong a breeze- I release you. But instead I grasp it tightly wishing my life could mirror a childhood tale and I could hold on for dear life, weather the strom and end up in a bright, shiny new world where I can find my courage and you can find your heart- and we wouldn’t walk around always looking for our missing pieces in others.
Someday you will meet a girl and she will have softer hair and smaller thighs and she wont have violent scars across her skin. And she will scream at you when she is angry- a sign of passion I never could display because my voice is as meek as a mouse and my small hands could never throw your shit onto the front lawn (not even when I knew someone else had been in your arms).
Someday you’ll meet a girl and she’ll have gravity-defying breasts and a smile that would inspire sonnets and she won’t have a wishbone where her backbone should be and she will kick your ass to the curb instead of loving you through the excuses.
You sit there in your hopelessness in a world that will never understand wearing TARDIS socks and an old Outkast hoodie, mixing genres and looking more like yourself than you ever do after spending an hour plastering on makeup and squeezing into tights and high heels. And I swear you could change the world with your words if you gave them or yourself a chance (If self-doubt were a drug you’d have overdosed by now) And you are capable of loving so deeply that you can still call them friends after they lied and cheated and called you less than worthy but you buried your heart under the rubble of the last collapse and have started to doubt if it was ever there at all. But you wiggle your toes in those silly socks and I swear you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
It’s six a.m. and I am thinking about not eating again about the numbers on the nutrition labels and the tape measure and the treadmill readout and the scale maybe going down for a change because I am starting to take up too much space and maybe if I could shrink and contort and force myself to become a smaller target then maybe I can finally feel worthy of the area I occupy the ground underneath my feet wont constantly be screaming about treading more lightly.
I can always tell it is going to snow by the way the air smells before a storm- and all I want is to get snowed in with you- cuddled up watching movies and getting drunk and making lazy love like we did last year back when we were still getting to know the rhythems of each other’s bodies and knew nothing of the cracks in our foundations that lets the cold seep in and a sliver of ice to creep into my heart. And the last time the white spread all around I built a snowman with my niece and had a snowball fight with my nephew and you were nowhere to be found.
“Life Would Be So Much Easier If Our Bedtime Stories Went Something Like…” – 12-26-13
You wont ever be able to ride a bike without falling down and scraping your knees. Your imaginary friends will be better than any of the ones you will find in real life. And all those romance novels you will devour in middle school will break your heart because #1 will cheat #2 will cheat #’s 3 and 4 and 5 will cheat And #6 will grow a beard you will hate but he will have pretty eyes and kiss you like he means it. Your body will be your enemy and you will starve it and you will carve into it with razor blades alone in your room when you realize you are not as strong as you have always tried to be. And you will lose parts of yourself that you once swore were sewn in with every stitch. But you will always be that lover of words- nose buried in the pages of those books and your hands furiously trying to pen your own. And, have faith because your heart cant, in fact, be broken just bruised and the colors will fade and the pain will fade and you will again sleep soundly you will again sleep soundly.
If I had any such talent I would draw you in caricature- taller than Mount Everest- skinny as a garden rake- with a santa claus beard- and I would passive aggressively make your head too big and your shoulders too narrow to lean on- and you would be carrying my battered heart in its protected steel cage where you would unconsciously be poking at it through its bars with a stick whilst playing Magic and video games and paying no attention to the figure of a squished little me underneath your feet.
I miss basements cold and dreary on old forgotten furniture from the 80’s long replaced- with friends I swore I would keep forever grasping onto music like lifelines and there wasn’t anything more dire to discuss than whether La Dispute or Gaslight Anthem were superior lyrically. We were eighteen and not worried that we were running out of time and hadn’t chosen a career because we were all going to be musicians and artists and romance novelists and poets anyway.
And now these days are all numbers- the precious few hours in the day I don’t have to spend slaving away- my bank account’s bottom line- how I need to save X amount every pay period if I want to buy a house that costs this much or that much- and how much older I am getting every day.
Now I am longing for the Friday nights of my youth spent at my grandmother’s house- three generations of women cuddling tea cups in their hands and completely happy- Instead of with my fellow twenty-somethings playing dress up with fewer yards of fabric and too much eyeliner- drinking too much and trying to forget that somewhere along the way we gave up the belief that music and art and friends and love were more important than acting our age.
It worries me that my favorite Christmas song is a crooning Joni Mitchell singing a sombre song that really isn’t even about Christmas at all. And I could worship at her feet for saying all the things I am too scared to say (just sing alone in my car)- when it is coming on Christmas and I cant recapture the magic the season used to bring because every lot full of trees makes me sad that they had to be cut down before they got to reach their arms to the sky and the songs are all about joy and peace but I my family has to have three separate Christmases because no one can get along and it doesn’t look like we are going to get any snow- and I swear I wish I had a river too- and that I could skate away from you (because you never want to see me anymore and you don’t try to put me at ease but maybe I can hope for a cold spell and the Navesink will freeze and I can teach my feet to fly…)
“Oh, I Wish I Had A River”- 12-3-13-jessicagadziala
I count the days he hasn’t called like other people count kisses or petals on flowers and after five days I guess he loves me not- (but I swear his chest is the safest place in the world) he kept me warm all last winter and the world is getting colder again and I am scared I am going to freeze to death from the inside out because of all the coolness I am harboring toward someone who lets me spend so many nights with cold hands and cold feet and a phone stubbornly staying silent.