"This time, we don't need another perfect lie"

In the middle. In the middle is how I will describe this while I wonder if I will try to erase this from my mind later on in life.  In the middle of a dark past and a bright future is when I struggle to block out the memories. Just like my siblings. They try, too. We all try. But it never really leaves. You always remember and your eyelids are always struggling to stay dry when you’re in the middle.

All my secrets cannot forever be holed up in my head for the sake of maintaining a normal front in society. One day they will spill over. One day the floodgates will break under the pressure of wet eyes and stories untold, and one day, the whole world will know what we concealed in our hearts and minds even though it almost drove us crazy as her, crazy until we broke in front of family and friends who left because they got busy and all we really had was ourselves, me and my sister. 

Erasing the middle, I wish I could tell you how it was. It’s like knowing your name begins with an S and ends with an H but there are blanks spaces in between, blank spaces and you don’t know what you became in the middle, what changed and gave you courage, courage to run away from this, run away from home, run away from her. Run away even though the voices in your head called you a coward for not fighting back, not standing up for him, run away because you’re brave enough to confess to yourself that you  have no strength against this.

Screw the stars for promising us a better future, for making the skies look like they were shining for us and screw the world for telling us everything would be alright, happy endings are only in chapters that lead to bad beginnings.  “You don’t know.” He sighed and I wish I could tell him I did. I did know of pain and terror of a very exquisite kind, something he would never know of. 

Erase the beginning because that’s where it all began. Erase the beginning, erase the moment you were born from the pages of the history books of the world because that’s the only way to escape the middle. If it wasn’t for the beginning, you wouldn’t have found yourself here, here in the middle.

The middle. Where you define yourself with words called adjectives to give yourself a ground to stand on.  And you can stand as long as you believe the lies the voices in your head breathe, the voices that everyone else believes. But when you realize you’re here in the middle and you don’t want to be here anymore, you notice the cracks in the ground before it gives way to your feet. 

When you realized it was all a facade, and it wouldn’t hold any longer. 

When the past finally caught up to the beautiful middle and ruined it. Despite all your efforts to run, run, run away from it.

I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be patient.

I’m sorry this really has no beginning or end, but I’ve stopped trying to make sense.

I need a compass, I need an atlas

I need you, and the ground to walk on

And stay steady under my feet when I cannot carry my own weight.

I need to be able to speak the truth

Like I know it, like we know it, the truth because

Nobody else knows it.

I need the blanks in the middle to go away

Please make them go away.

I need to not be afraid

Anymore.

And I need you to stay

On days when I’m in the middle.

And there are blank spaces everywhere.

"Lord, what fools these mortals are."

In that rush of time and breath between the seconds our eyes connect and our minds find each other behind the veil of our features, I find myself perfectly content. I chased a spirited dream along the boulevard of hope and death crushed my rose tinted beliefs in the cold, hard hands of truth, leaving me a jaded cynic lost in a time warp, unable to breathe or live easy for the fear of it happening again. Unable to hope, unable to dream. I was running in circles for an illusion I did not have the strength to stomach or the courage to brave. I proved my incapability in front of the silent watchers yet again and we both detested ourselves for it but our pain was already inked in the hands of fate, it was too little and far too late for change to make a difference. 

Forgive me, but I succumb to the devils of temptation and desire, to the fires they ignite in me and the ideas they incite in me. Recall my faith in you, it will help you survive the night , and you cannot reach the dawn save by the path of night. And when you don't miss me any longer, remember that I loved you once, with a fiery passion you failed to return except when you were consumed by your temper and I was consumed by my grief. I cried because it was easier, easier to let it out than to bottle it in but I have nothing to weep for anymore and no one to hold me if I did.

Connect the dots for me, I beg you, because I fail to understand, or I'm afraid to. You spell out your intentions in a string of words laced with malice, the end product of your anger and frustration at me because I could never be who you wanted me to be. I'm sorry, I whisper because I feel like it will make things better and make you a little less angry but it does not matter, you were not made to be moved or mollified, and you wave your dismissal without gracing me with a glance. I refuse to leave, feeling short-changed on forgiveness and because my apologies never come forth easily, and when they do, they're sincere enough to elicit a spark of affection, even from your stony heart. You refuse to yield and you swear you haven't changed but I know better. I knew you when you were human enough to love and you loved beautifully. I remember when you let passion make your promises for you and mischief danced in your eyes, when you whispered honeyed strings of words and kissed my hands like there was no tomorrow. And so I withdraw but I refuse to leave, I shall wait out the grief, I shall wait for the empath in you to claim your heart again, snatch it from the cold depths of your chest and let you love again, live and believe again. 

"Remember everything", she says when only the memory remains

If of all words of tongue and pen,
The saddest are, "It might have been,"
More sad are these we daily see:
"It is, but hadn't ought to be."
-Francis Brett Hart

You did the favour of gracing me today

With your presence

Which wasn’t needed, I assure you

I didn’t particularly miss you in 

Your absence.

I mean, I may have looked at our old pictures

Of when we were smiling and laughing

When we were happy.

I may have cried a bit, or a lot

But I didn’t miss you, no.

I may have missed out on cleaning the hall closet

Like I planned, but I was too busy having my heart broken by you

And you, you were too busy with university

And your excuses, excuses, excuses.

But don’t worry about me, I have learnt

To keep busy

To keep my heart beating and my brain working and my lungs breathing

Without constantly reminiscing, remembering, breaking.

I may have recalled the way your shoulders cushioned my cheekbones

When they were tear scarred and sobbing

And wondered if those shoulders will ever be comforting

Me

Like that again.

Now I’m forbidden to talk about things

That we always used to talk about

I found home in your heart

And now I’m a stranger in my own home.

I confess, I wasn’t ready for this abyss

This big gaping space next to me

Where you used to be

I wasn’t ready to be broken

At least not by you.

But it’s okay, you’re too busy

To bother loving me

And I don’t miss you. I don’t.

And screw you for saying

We barely made it. We did.

And each fight just made me realize

That we can survive the worst parts of each other

And still love unconditionally.

Screw you and your

Goddamn epiphanies.

When you realize you don’t want to be

Overly attached to me because

I’m” leaving anyway”

That’s like trying to not

Love your family for fear of the pain they will cause when they die.

Be brave enough to love me, damnit.

Be brave enough to care.

Photospam!

This just really makes me laugh. People who read are always going to attract readers the most.

 Time's running out for all of us, really.

Word!

For everyone , that has someone they love miles away. Don't let distance ruin it.