Memory Lane – What does love feel like?

A love once known. An email to a boyfriend 800 miles away. The one in my black and white avatar actually.

“I read this this morning and the result was just short of tears streaming down my face.

You have an unyielding presence in my thoughts and odd control over my breaths. You are responsible for so many of my smiles and so many moments of ease and laughter. Comfort– marked by bewilderment yet accompanied by a subtle uneasiness, for this is still all too amazing.

A part of me feels dormant when I am away from you. Although I enjoyably live in a world of imagination. Constantly daydreaming and imagining you in your element, in your world.

I am Lucky. Sad. Giddy. In love. With you.

I am sleepy today. Would love to nap with you and feel your warmth and listen as you inhale. That moment where we slow down our breaths as if we could pause time . . .
Am I seeing you this weekend? I really would like a little sun, you, oil, water, sex, naked, food, cocktails, sex, pool, beach, sex, you, kisses, naked, sex, sun, you.

kisses.

sex.
you.

lover, Attainingme”

We’ve run our course

Letting go of something I never grabbed onto. He was handsome, his lust found me, engulfed me. The moments together were light. Happy. And I, physically awakened. I kept seeking. Where was he. So simple. An opposing mirror to my complexity. The best me was suffocating. But my inner dialogues kept pressing. Don’t throw someone away due to an unhappiness with myself. Seeking someone to challenge me, bring out the best in me, seemed as if it was a problem I wouldn’t have if I was together, whole. A problem best dealt with myself.

So with the new year, I communicated. Me, communicating. Imagine that. I felt that there must be someone more interesting underneath the fine specimen of a human being. I wanted more. Yes. But I said what. After all, he had fallen, supposedly. A light request to someone who wanted an us.

But tides change. And he felt defeated. The month to follow, I was dealt my own recipe. Games I say. Games he said he didn’t play. “Straightforward, I am.”  Dense, I retorted. Nights of pain. Of hurt. Against a current of need. Something I rarely seek. This boy who “liked” me so failed to be the simplest of friends. Enough cuts.

So I tried. Multiple choice. A, B, or C. Your words don’t meet your actions. So either your feelings have changed or this sabotage will not be well received. A. we try and make this work. B. we enjoy each other casually or C. we part ways. Not C was the only answer I ever received. And the mention of defeat. Continued games. Continued stabs.

And me, somehow caring enough to communicate again. Imagine that. A request for him to tell me how he feels. A warning that my emotions were on their last leg (pinky toe rather) and that I have an uncanny ability to take my feelings and put them in boxes. Tied with a pretty bow. Of apathy. Of indifference. Emotional doom to never be reopen.

“I get it.” The three words I received. Tonight was worse. Another stab. And I told him, we’ve run our course. He says, “I don’t want to weigh on you.” And my innards screamed. On the mat at the gym. A diatribe of fuck you’s to a phone that died after his response.

A sign that a response is not due. But oh how I just want to say fuck you. Send him the definition of like, falling in love, and an us. I hate him so. and back to the resurfaced “I hate the words I love you.” the i love you, but.

My last words.

I miss writing. I miss this blog. And, you. I find myself somewhat breathless as I return to these old streams, layers of emotions and memories that are no longer the make up of my day.

This blog, unintentionally, documents the life I lived in Puerto Rico. When I first started writing, I longed for continuity in a life that straddled two places, two beings, and two parts that seemingly did not make one, specifically me, whole.  I wrote with the hope that writing and being connected to my introspection would transcend the life that no one but I knew. In that journey, I found you. I found a voice. I found inspiration. It ended with my leaving, and perfectly chronicles the two years that seem like such distant memories.

And as life often does, it has returned my thoughts to writing. Through a series of unlinked comments, praise for my distant writings, the noted talent I am unsure I have, a request for me to document my “unreal” life, and my own business where it seems necessary to be a “brand.”

So, I have spent the last week thinking. What do I write? Do I have anything worthwhile to say? It would be wonderful if I could write, be genuine and also have it benefit my company, my business, my brand. But, the truth is I am no expert. I am young and have an innate talent, business-sense. I am building a company. And it is tough, but it is my inspiration. I could chronicle my life, but it would be no promotion to do so honestly. And with whom could I share? My story is a girl who is atypical in love, a woman who breaks hearts, an entrepreneur who wants to grow an empire, a person who loves working out, challenge, thrill, and most of all, introspection, for it has been the best education. Dear reader, what do I do from here?

 

but of course . . .

I transition back to New York, I open doors and prove my value, perhaps, just to say goodbye with a I don’t need you, you need me. Time will tell.  This is my professional life at the moment.

My love life is becoming but a joke. A client asked me yesterday, I am sure you had many valentine’s. And I could only laugh and decline comment.
It is only 11 this morning and four correspondences with hearts pointed in my direction . .

From Jonas:

“I  miss your company, talking to you, going somewhere with you, being in bed with you. You really are my muse, you inspire me.”

From my ex:

Quoted, Una Palabra

“If one day you need me, I will be nothing
And at the same time I will be everything
Because in your eyes are my wings
And the shore where I drown,
Because in your eyes are my wings
And the shore where I drown”

A.

Is in Australia. He looks for moments, hidden minutes, updates me on itinerary. The past two weeks have brought us together. Have connected us. I think we may be dating. It offers me highs and butterflies. But, I am all too aware, that relatively, he offers me nothing. When one is used to scraps, an offered bite, is blessed . . Keep perspective. We will see. But, I am happy . . .

I think he is finally falling for me, my darling.

But of course, a stolen kiss from a new player, Genius, and I realize the ironic possibility of hurting A. who was so emotionally caught off.

And oh, there’s more, I am supposed to have dinner with another . . .

This movie I am in . .

My life has been a movie. Moments, experiences in months past seem but a dream. I feel as if I am a voyeur looking back at them. I don’t believe it was me actually breathing within them.

And i sit now. Yesterday’s departure of someone leaves my heart heavy. My hand extends to reach for his, to hold his in mine. Now I would grasp so tight, that I wouldn’t be without, that he couldn’t have left and said goodbye.

My steps are now two. The first time in a month since our meeting. He is halfway around the world now. Seemingly unreachable and almost unimaginable. Without the photos, it would be but a dream. I miss him.

Present

My toes immersed in sand, I milk these moments and particularly this one for I travel to New York tomorrow. A heart torn. A desire to be both here and there. I want to clone myself. I relish this desire. The affirmation that I am living life, that I am present. Preferred to a depression where I long to not exist.

Memories play in my mind as I soak up the sun. My tanned body in an ocean of cold in the trip that awaits me. His words. My pleasure. My contentment with our friendship. A recollection of the jolt that reverberated through my limbs as our sweaty arms momentarily touched. His hand on my back as he motioned me to change directions.

Our run last night as much of the world prepared to retire.

The streets were ours. We ran side by side. As friends. Speaking of relationships. His realizations that his new ex was justified in her actions. I fought my desire to disagree. I relish his disappointment at my leaving and I wish I weren’t. I fear that a new friend will replace our frequency in my abscence. But I don’t allow that fear to paralyze or concern me. I smile. My S.

Seeing me

If only you knew the thoughts I think of you. As we run, your steps behind me, my uncle’s words scroll through my mind. How much you awoke me? No one has affected me as you did. And you have no clue. Newly single. My S. I filed my feelings for you many months ago. But they remain proven by the color of  my cheeks and the light in my eye when I speak of you . . .

And now you are here. And my words locked. My heart longs for us to get to know each other without the dance we once danced. The me you misread. Hopes that rooms will be filled with our laughter, that you will see the me that everyone else sees. I remember your head on my lap, the ocean screaming in through my windows, my fingers tracing letters, S + D on your perfectly scuplted back. A moment has never been so intimate as hours past, and words not said. I loved you in that moment. But it was post our sealed fate.

Now I think about tonight. A run should the rain not recommence. And I think of the girl that shows up at your door. And I wonder is it the girl that people fall for? Or in the process of hiding, masking my once hurt heart, I am someone else . . .

I can only hope that I deliver me. That our friendship grows. My faith is in timing, for ours is not now. I am gone too much and you too newly single. To the exploration of ourselves, in seeing through our friendship if their is an us beyond what never was.