psalm_onethirtyone | "I am a Poster Girl with No Poster..."

Current Mood: in shock a bit, to be honest

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"I am a Poster Girl with No Poster..."

They accepted me. And they gave me a scholarship.

I'm going to college.

Also, one of Paul's sheep dropped two lambs this week. Their tails haven't been clipped yet, and they're so long they reach the ground. They even stood still long enough for me to get some photographs.

And on the way home we saw a tom turkey in the tree over the Mahantango.

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no, miss, no. if you think that's bad, not having explanations, try never being allowed to explain yourself, try being pushed away and told it's too soon, it hurts too much -- try always being uncertain, never knowing what to say, never knowing what you can say, try offering your love and being hurt by every sentence too short, every comment that seems like half a dismissal, try being made to feel like nothing after you almost had everything and all because you said the wrong thing at the wrong time, try not even having a therapist to talk to, just silence and self-reproach, trying pulling back and pulling back -- is this enough space now? are we alright now? -- and then try being told you're never around. and i understood why you'd want to keep my at arm's length -- i understood things were difficult for you, that 'difficult' is an understatement, that it was my fault -- but i don't think you understood me, and i don't think you even wanted to. i thought what we had was a romantic friendship -- i thought we were like emily and susie, and i kissed you and loved as well as i could without overstepping my bounds, even i wanted something more this is what we had, and it all meant something, it meant something very valuable, very important to me, more important than life, but it didn't mean we were together -- even if i wanted something more -- and i know i made myself blind, because you were so wonderful for me, because i thought i didn't deserve you. and it's not that amelia was any less wonderful, but she put my doubts to rest, she asked me to be her girlfriend. love letters mean something, gifts mean something, intimations means something, but those three words -- 'be my girlfriend?' -- those mean something! the one you asked to date you, in the end, was tom, and do you know how that made me feel? how much i wished it was me? i loved you. i would've been delighted if you turned around and said 'you know, i'm not happy with this -- be with me, date me' but you never did. you said it was too soon, you said i hurt you too much, and you pushed me away. and i wanted to be here for you -- every day i want to be here for you -- but i was afraid of hurting you, repulsing you, like a caress from something grotesque. this isn't me feeling guilty and picking up loose threads, this isn't a sudden change of heart, this is me, all year, wondering what i am to you, wondering if you hate me, wondering what i can do for you, and thinking, maybe since it's christmas --

but all this time, you were scaling me back. you were cutting me out. and i understand. i mean -- i've got an ascendant in cancer. i hate confrontation, when something goes wrong i pull back. but if there's one thing i can't stand, hypocritical maybe, selfish maybe, it's being manipulated instead of talked to.

easier for both of us? no, miss, it was never easy. but thank you for finally telling me where things stand.

you never tried to explain. this is the first time you've ever told me anything; and maybe this is my fault, but I wrote you a proposal, in the best words I could possibly think up, and I knew you'd read it, and I thought--I thought you said yes, but I was never wholly sure; and I asked Tom to date me months after you were going with Gil--and, God, when did I ever say it was too soon to talk to you? For God's sake, I never talked to you, I think obviously I should have, but I never did, I never called you again after that and said God what happened?--I don't remember this, I don't at all. I wasn't scaling you back--I was trying to do something which in me felt like getting over a breaking up I hadn't realised was even remotely imminent. I thought you'd wanted me, thought I'd found out you didn't, and I thought I was dropping back and nursing my wounds and trying not to be hurt by your happiness, because I wanted you to be happy but I wanted you to be happy with me but I thought for you to be happy was the most important part, and if you were I wasn't going to ruin it or interfere with it by being the psycho ex or the bitter ex or the ex who makes you feel guilty by being sad all the time about you (and feeling like I couldn't even be permitted to apply that word to myself because you'd never been with me, I thought, even though I'd thought we were--).

I didn't know that I hadn't been clear. I didn't know what you wanted, so I never acted it for you: that's my fault, that's not a blame, it's just an explanation or a statement or something. I wanted you to be happy; I thought you were with me; I thought you were with Gil; I thought that was how it should be. And then I tried to pick up my pieces and accept it; and I realised that every time I wrote to you I started crying and didn't know what to say, and I thought maybe it would be better if I didn't write. And maybe I should have told you that. Should I have told you that? But I didn't: statement two. And then I felt very unlovable and very cold and very lost for a very long time, and then Tom made me feel like maybe I was lovable actually and that was very wonderful, and he's sweet and clever and funny and I had a crush and it was good to be happy. And my therapist was abusive (I don't know whether you've read my entries, I don't know whether you know that, but she was very verbally abusive) and I got very worse and when we were all in D.C. I missed you so much and I wanted you there and I wanted everything the way it used to be, but I thought Kylee is happy, dammit, I thought that's what matters and I didn't say anything. I never said anything because I thought that was the right thing to do. Not because I was trying to manipulate you, or push you away, but because I thought it would hurt you if you knew I was upset.

Because when I first met you, you weren't happy. And I wanted you to be happy more than anything else in the world, and I thought, if she's happy, then that's the way it should be, and I didn't want to get in the way of it. Because I hurt very much, and because I felt dismissed (just flirting, I felt absolutely dismissed), and I wanted to yell and cry and tell you how hurt I felt, but I was too afraid to make you unhappy. So I didn't talk to you at all: statement three, and I know it wasn't the right thing to do, because obviously there would have been so much less misunderstanding and everything would have been clearer and maybe I wouldn't have tucked everything inward for so long, or forced you to do the same. But that's what I did.

I wanted things to be okay for both of us, but most importantly you.

i feel so stupid. i thought i did -- i thought i did try. i remember trying, i remember offering to do it again, to talk through it again, and you saying we shouldn't talk about it. did i make that up? i don't remember anymore.

it's so stupid, because all we really did was miss each other -- all we did was aim into the dark and miss each other. because we didn't mean to hurt each other, but we did, and.

i'm just sorry.

i'm sorry.

i'm going to go back into the dark now.

It doesn't matter; the dark isn't a place for either of us. You have Gil, and she treasures you and loves you and it's a wonderfully worthwhile relationship; and I have hopes and beginnings and things other than romance and things are better than they used to be. It was just one big miscommunication, maybe both our faults, and it's past.

We both get to go on. No more standing in the dark.

but no gifts, no letters, no meaning anything to you other than heartbreak --

you will always be the unstartled steppes of dream.

a little tired now-- tired of things that break, and--

&hearts see.

you are wonderful, miss. too wonderful for words. too wonderful for poetry.

extraordinarily not! but I still want both of us to be happy.

i hope we will. i really, really do -- and i think you made that possible, tonight.

so, uh--would you like anything for Christmas? ^_~

already got something wonderful -- got to clear up a misunderstanding that's been weighing on my mind all year, with someone patient enough to listen to me while i vented and said awful things at her, and good enough, wise enough, to vent back at me, until i really understood her. that's all i want -- understanding. shiny things are nice, too.

♥ well! that can probably be arranged.

thank you, miss. really -- thank you.

thank you. it's--so much infinitely better to have it this way. Opening doors and windows and letting the air wash out.

and you made it possible -- it's no so dark any longer.

takes two for tangos, scrabble, and confessional.

*giggles!* well-said.

but naturally! I am of course an accomplished speaker.

a right improvisatrice of the french style.

c'est vraiment!

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"I am a Poster Girl with No Poster..."

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