Soundtrack: Satellite – Guster
Bend or Break
Hey Freckles, it's been a year now, and I've been totally clean for five months, six days, seven hours, twenty-five minutes and counting. Know what? I'm still not happy. They keep telling me I will be, someday, somehow… and then they add - as if it'd make me feel better - soon. I don't believe in soon, I fucking doubt in forever, but it's true that I have changed. For better or for worse, I can't really tell, but I still think about you almost (and that hurts) everyday, wondering what you'd think of things right now, about me, and this new city? It's far smaller from where I met you, there's no one dealing dope in the corners, no hoes to trash-talk, and no beat blasting trough the pavement. The power of soul you called it and made a twist offering me a wide-ass smile, the whitest teeth and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. You glittered so much that some days I still squint at the memory of you dancing. I miss the music. You took it with you when you went, and even though I hate being left here in silence, I don't mind you having it, a least I know you're no alone, you've got all our songs, every single one, even the ones you didn't like.
You got the blues, I got to live. Of course I can't complain about that (standard rules; living beats dying) and I know there was no way for me to go with you. I couldn't play and you didn't want me to, said you needed someone out there to catch you when you dove. Too bad you never realised what a horrible catcher I am, or maybe you planned it in that very way from the beginning? After all you did take the fall; you took the bend and the break and left me with nothing but myself to tend for. I wonder how lost you really were - beyond the horizon already? I smirk in a sick way and Shane reacts, he looks at me and I shy away from his touch. I don't like him here when I dwell on you. I'm scared that you'll see and get upset. I was yours and only yours and now somehow, don't ask me how, I'm his, or he wants me to be. I'm not sure and shake my head most of the time staring down at my lovesick wrists.
I never cut along the road, never ever, just across the street (a million streaks of hatred) but for you I carved hearts out of love on both my arms. I keep them bleeding everyday to remind myself what beauty really looks like - to never dull out the pain and forget your name. We were love, why don't anyone realise that? They just see the drugs and living hand to hand. We were so much more and Shane, well, he's like a little ache in the corner of my mind (so gentle) while you were an exploding ship of fireworks that took over the entire me, the sky and the ground, every inhale and exhale. With you feeling was a way of living, now living is a way of dying and as each day pass I find myself looking at greys wondering where the hell the colours all went? When reality is just an inch from insanity it's hard to tell what's right and what's wrong; it's easier to be troublesome and far from reach. I space a lot and I have a hard time concentrating for long periods. It's like my brain freaks and throws everything overboard when I'm forced into situations I can't control. Everyday. They medicate me against this.
So I run for shitty clubs with stupid names like Rickety Rose (cheapest beer on this side of the county) and flickering traffic lights (never getting all the way to green – and go) that aren't here anymore. I left them behind and I stumble upon benches made for two where I sit and bite my tongue so hard that it pathetically bleeds and I'm forced to realise I've lost my other half. I promised to live on, stay strong, and keep the faith, but how can I do that when not even time passing can steal the feeling of you being everything away?
I don't even know how Shane ended up in my life (he shouldn't be here, or should he?). He's wrong too, so the basics are that we met at ward 9 (day-room) where I spent a lot of time after you and I couldn't chase rainbows anymore: We sort of clashed and then we fit together. I stared at the window and he stared at me; I ignored it and kept picking at my scabs, thinking about purple pills and fucking in the moonlight. All the things you, and the thrill. It shakes me to the core how bad I miss it, and those idiotic 4: am drinking songs you always sang.
That is one thing true that bad thing fades and glory stays. You had bland-brown hair with specks of gold dyed in there and sometimes aqua-blue just for fun, a little gap between your two front teeth and a laughter that always made old ladies smile, reminding them of what it is like to be young and without a care. Yeah, really, you had a gorgeous laughter. Shane is so different from that, he's like the epitome of a depressed teenager with lined sad-sad eyes and I've never heard him laugh out loud. He doesn't make old ladies smile, he makes them shake their head and cry (just like me). Where you took space he leaves room, and it's so odd for me. It's like saying that going backwards makes the day go faster, you know? Strange. What differs you two the most though, is that he speaks about a future, a something else, a somewhere else. No pain. He's just un-lucky, a kid that catches depressions like others catches colds and that stirs something inside of me, wanting to be a place for him to land (like the way you could never be for me… god, I am sorry). The question is will my stitches hold for such a pressure? Or am I walking on water, believing too much and taking chances never given?
I've told him fragments about you and me and it made his eyes go so very wide (I saw myself in there), he couldn't grasp the concept of living like there was no tomorrow. I needed light and you were fire. I didn't mind being burned as long as you held my hand. What was hurt when we had snowballs to shoot and the sun never really set? That's not easy to explain to someone who's never taken anything that wasn't prescribed. I wasn't in it for the drugs; I was there because there was no other place I'd rather be. There's no other place I want to be.
You're probably smiling now, aren't you? I am utter chaos accelerating and you know you used to be the only thing that could save me from myself. Shane does what he can do make me calm down and that would definitively change your smile into a scowl. You didn't expect this of me, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be crying. I can't say no. I need this. You count my breaths as they hitches (tongue in my mouth), you jerk along with my body (fingers down my sides), when I mumble a "tease" at him you grimace, I'm taking it too far (first button undone), I blush and you look away (skin against skin - naked), when I moan your name into his hair I know I've made you cry (climax). I hate this city and I have to get over you, I have to let go – you would have wanted me to. Maybe we're all made out of plastic, maybe we all can be fixed into places, bent into shapes, moulded into postures we shouldn't have, couldn't imagine? If that's the case and I'm not real for real we could meet again if I bleed enough for the both of us. I don't make sense I know, I'm contradicting two opposites, denying the truth that you died so I could live. You slapped it in my face with the only force you knew hoping that at least I would make something of myself. You refused a future for yourself but you gave me hope – so different from how we used to live. So I shouldn't' cut, I should heal and create that future I mumbled about when you got stoned day after day – shrugging your shoulders at my pleas for a what comes next?
What if it isn't about the next day, or all the days after that, what if it is about right here, now? Tangled sheets smelling of sweat and sex, an ache in my veins for a little spice, eyes the size of baby-worlds gazing at me from underneath a fringe in desperate need of trimming and a hand at the small of my back, asking if I'll be okay? He's so sweet sometimes it hurts knowing I could break his bones with a blink. He's the way I was to you and it's a sick power to have, holding someones heart, letting them give you everything they have and a little more. I understand why you gave mine away, it's really, really hard, it takes the best out of anyone. My knees buckle already and I tremble where I stand. He won't look away, not ever, and you always did and pulled the strap a little tighter – got a little higher. Do you mind that that makes me a little sad, and a little upset? It sort of destroys how perfect I wanted it to be.
Shane holds me from behind, presses himself close (too close, I'm confused?), whispering into my ear: "if you really need to bleed, bleed for me, will ya'…", with his fingers exploring the rough pattern I made onto my skin. Times like these when we're home alone with nothing there to scare him, his accent peaks and it makes my heart melt. His tongue against his teeth and that little lisp that drags out a few letters, making them longer then what they have to be - long enough for me to comprehend that 'I love you' means forever this time around. God damn, it distracts me from my thoughts, from you and the moonlight makes everything so blurred, it's hard to see straight and last year seems so far away. I stare at his sleeping form, imagining what if it would be you. It's always you and never me, truth to tell, where the hell was I when you were away for days? Too worried to eat, too worried to sleep, too worried to even breath and without no pills to pop since you kept the stash. You held the leash and I let you because I love (d?) you. It wouldn't have worked any other way around. Questions were out of order; you were born a street-kid and you were a stray-dog at heart. Nothing, not even me, and you adored me to Jupiter and back, I know that (don't get mad), could change that. That's the laws of nature, and when you mess with chemistry as bad as you did, it's bound to explode. I guess the world was your gasoline and somehow I ended up being the spark. The resulting boom took you… away, in all ways.
He shifts beside me in our bed catching my attention once again, tearing my mind away from the memories of another time long gone. The blanket is wrapped around his middle, he's sprawled out on his back, vulnerable to the world (to me) and across his ribs (left side - so skinny it scares me sometimes) I read: with every heartbeat it hurts. It's tattooed there with black ink (still it reminds me of blood) and when I said so he told me: 'when it comes from the guts you bleed black' and then he looked away. I've never seen him that bitter before and it changes things, there's more then what meets the eye to everyone and everything. I wonder if the rest of his tattoos are etched as bad as this one (he has stars and flakes of snow strewn across his back), and it strikes me how like you I've become. I'm doing all those things I hated you for to him. I'm lost for days at time, I talk but I don't tell, I ask without listening and I take for granted that he'll be there whenever. It's selfish, it's all those bad things I refused to realise about you because more than anything else you loved me. I want to love him the same but without the pain. We don't need the sadistic – masochist bullshit that goes around these days, we need each others and a place to call home. It's time for a change and rain falls outside our second floor apartment, like a silent promise of becoming clean, of washing away what I can't tear off.
So where does this leave me? In the middle of nowhere, without a name (he refuses to call me Kitten, and Mikhail doesn't feel right anymore), with the acidic taste of cum in my mouth (not yours) and I don't mind, someone by my side (still not you) I could never imagine and the chance of a lifetime at my feet.
Freckles, you gave me everything but yourself and now I'm giving away nothing but myself. It's an equation that I hope makes sense to you, because without you I would never have gotten to learn that X never matches Y and you shouldn't drink too much while smoking pot. It has a tendency of making you sick (trust me, I know, and then you grinned your way into my heart and made it bleed). Hearts heal though, they do, and scars remain, like memories they'll linger and I won't forget, I'll just move on – if that's okay with you?!
Note: I hadn't intended to write a second chapter or whatever to call this, but I did, so here it is, and there might be more coming since I can't seem to get them out of my head.