spilled ink by imogen

[writtenbygen]

I buried my face in his shoulder. I let him comfort me. I tried desperately to let myself be comforted by him. After all, wasn’t he everything I wanted? I loved Derek. He was the love of my life. What more could I want? Why was I crying?

I pulled out of his arms and stood very still. The traffic light across the street turned red. I stood there in a trance, watching as it turned back to green again. I looked up at the sky, and noted there were surprisingly few stars, despite the fact that it was seemingly a clear night without a single cloud.

Boulder felt like a dream, even though it had only been an hour ago.

I had spent the past year and a half since Charlie left the first time, wondering what my life would’ve been like in a hypothetical world where he hadn’t gone to Colorado, or a hypothetical world where I had somehow gone with him.

It was one thing to imagine him out here, in some sort of hypothetical world. “Colorado” was never real; it was some sort of concept, a place where Charlie disappeared to, a place Charlie loved more than home. A place Charlie loved more than me.

But now, Colorado was real. I had been in his apartment. I had met his roommates. We had wandered the library and done cartwheels through the quads. Colorado was no longer a hypothetical place, it was now a place where I had once been with Charlie. It was now not only a place Charlie had left me for, but also a place where I had left Charlie.

I had always told myself that things never would’ve worked out with him anyway. That our “bad timing” was a blessing in disguise, because it spared us a bitter breakup and preserved our friendship. But the more I tried to convince myself of this, the more I was beginning to believe that it was a lie. Maybe that was just what I told myself so I could sleep at night, so I wouldn’t be consumed with thoughts of Colorado and what could have been.

I could stay, I thought. There was a world in which I stayed. Where I knew I belonged here and Charlie belonged here, and I belonged with Charlie, and I fit into his life here and never returned to my life without him. Where we were finally something more than just a goodbye kiss.

But I snapped back to reality; to a dark, starless, Denver evening, and Derek. His caramel eyes sparkling in the glow of the traffic light. The love of my life. The personification of everything I had ever wanted.

Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t anything ever enough?

I thought for sure that he could read me. That he knew I was trying to push him away. That he knew I was trying to sabotage the best thing that ever happened to me because I was dreaming of a world of what-ifs in Colorado. It felt like a betrayal, to even be thinking it.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked, his eyes full of concern.

I shook my head. I wiped the tears from under my eyes. “I’m fine,” I said, because what was I going to say?

Was I going to tell him that I couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving Charlie today was a mistake, that letting Charlie leave a year ago had been a mistake? Was I going to tell him that the last thing in the whole world that I wanted to do was get on that plane tomorrow and go back to my life–a life that seemed so incomplete without Charlie?

I couldn’t say that to him. He’d get the wrong idea. He’d think I was in love with Charlie, and I wasn’t. I was in love with the “what if.” I was in love with Colorado.

I knew this would pass, like it always did. It would pass when we went back to the East Coast and I went back to my life; when Colorado went back to being a concept and Charlie went back to being a friend who visited a couple times a year.

It would be easier to forget then; that Colorado was real, that Charlie was real, and that maybe what Charlie and I had could’ve been real too.

I took Derek’s hand and we walked to the hotel. We went out to dinner and we ate and we talked and we laughed. And the next morning, we flew back home.

He never asked me more about that night, and I never told him. I always wondered if that was because deep down, he knew.

He knew I wasn’t crying because I was in love with the mountains: I was crying because I was in love with Charlie. I had always been in love with Charlie.

To this day, I still am.

I wrote a vague version, dancing around the truth about this, 6 years ago. I was still in denial back then. If only I had been honest with myself then. If only I knew then what I know now.

I thought I was being honest back then, admitting that I felt a little sad. But that wasn’t honest. THIS is honest.

Here’s the original post: https://writtenbygen.tumblr.com/post/158646485442/watching-the-traffic-light-turn-from-red-to-green

[writtenbygen]

Against all odds, I find that I now love the snow because it makes me think of you.

[writtenbygen]

Why not

I’ve spent a lot of time and energy on all the reasons “why” he was perfect for me and why we should be together. So for in the future, when I inevitably idealize him again and feel like I should’ve given him more of a chance and maybe we’d be together, here are the reasons why we’re not.

I’ve been sure of him for almost a year. At which point he was fairly in and out. He knew he was a major confidant of mine, yet would often leave texts unanswered and cancel plans without rescheduling. I get it, he doesn’t feel well. But then when I stopped reaching out, going the entire summer without seeing each other and barely speaking at all. Never once checks in on me when I had confided all the problems I was having in the spring. 

Then he miraculously reappears in the fall. Doing a little better. He wants to see me. Then he wants to see me more regularly. He says “yes” to plans and we’re regularly part of each other’s lives. It gets to the point where I can expect to hear from him pretty often. Where he knows what’s going on in my life and I know what’s going on in his. I know he has doctor appointments on Tuesdays and therapy on Thursdays. He texts me to check in at 3pm on the dot when he knows that’s the time my stressful dentist appointment would be over. It starts to feel like a little more than friends. 

Then he drops off again.

Then I have a horrible tragedy—the death of one of the most important people in my life. I call him. Because everything feels so wrong. And I know when I’m with him, I feel like everything is a little more right. He’s there for me. He tells me to come over right away. That first night, I fell apart, and as horrible as it felt to be falling apart, it felt so right that it was his arms that I fell into. I felt safe and loved and at home. I said to him that I wished I could stop existing temporarily and he said “please don’t. I kinda like you.” He put his arm around me and he held me to his chest and I listened to his heartbeat. I told him I never wanted to move and he said I didn’t have to. We sat like that on more than one occasion, 3 separate days.

It was more than a friendship.

Over the coming weeks, he and that old couch in his basement and the little orange flicker of the fake candle underneath the lamp, became my safe place. That grounded me. Daily texts, checking in on me, reminding me he was there. He’s there for me in exactly every way I need him to be. He reaches out, responds, sees me whenever I need him. Comforts me, holds me, lets me cry, distracts me, includes me with his family and friends. He is perfect. He is the supportive partner I’ve always dreamed of. It feels like things are happening. 

Whenever I was feeling lost and alone and overwhelmed by my life, I remembered him. I could text him and he’d always respond. I could invite myself over and be there soon back in his comfort. And even when I couldn’t right away, I could think about it. Just the thought that he was there supporting me, cheering me on, and the thought that I’d see him soon, that he’d be there for me, was enough to get me through the worst days of my life.

He invited me to spend Christmas Day with his family. He invited me to New Year’s Eve with his friends. It felt like things were really “happening.” It definitely felt like more than friends. His mom said she thinks of me as part of the family. The New Year’s “party” was just his close guy friends from high school, and me. It felt like I was his plus-one. This was more than a friendship.

Then he dropped off again.

Daily texting turns into maybe a text or 2 every day or 2. It gets less and less frequent. Less and less interesting. When I ask how he is, I get vague answers. He claims he’s more absent because of his own issues. Maybe that’s true. He says he doesn’t want to talk and isn’t up to talking lately. Yet, he is also extremely hurt and offended that his stupid ex girlfriend won’t make time to talk to him. He wants to talk to HER. But not me. Not me, who he knows is counting on him. Not me, who he knows loves him and is there for him.

I don’t know if he’s spooked because he felt like things were happening with us. I don’t know if he doesn’t feel the same way or is just overwhelmed or is just hung up on his ex. I don’t know if it all really IS just because he’s sick and depressed. And honestly? It doesn’t even matter. I’m sick of not being a priority. I’m sick of him always coming first to me, and me only coming first to him when it’s convenient for him. He’s unreliable and inconsistent. He’s there only when he wants to be. He doesn’t communicate. He shuts me out. He pines for someone who couldn’t care less about him, and shuts me out when I clearly care so much for him.

This is a big case of: if he wanted to, he would. I don’t need to tell him how I feel about him. I can’t, even, because I haven’t seen him. I can’t see him, because he doesn’t want to see me. For almost a month now. But he knows how I feel. I’ve made it very, very obvious, and he’s LITERALLY a rocket scientist. He’s not stupid. He’s always been more observant and less oblivious than he acts. I’ve gotten my answer. No response is a response. I am done putting my life on hold for him. I deserve better than the scraps he throws at me.

In the wake of this, I feel absolutely wrecked by him. In the horribleness of the last couple months, he has been the straw that broke me. I feel absolutely shattered, heartbroken, and abandoned by him. Even though nothing ever “happened,” he can’t possibly have been so thick to not see at the very least that he was extremely important to me and was a huge reason why I wasn’t falling apart (in addition to it just being plain obvious, I actually told him this). He was there for me at my lowest and then gradually phased me out. What, as if I wouldn’t notice? The worst part is, I wasn’t even surprised. He got progressively more and more distant, like he always does. I thought this time would be different. Maybe it was. But he’s still him, and I half-expected that from the start. He’s not going to change. And this is what I’m going to get from him. I’m never going to come first to him. He’s never going to be open and communicate with me. He’s never going to be real with me. It’s always going to be one-sided. I’m just going to pathetically pine for him like he pines for his ex.

I cannot be broken by him one more time. I deserve better than to keep giving him chances thinking that it may turn out differently. I’m not going to give him the opportunity to crush me again.

I can now officially say, I saw this “relationship” through. I gave it a chance. It won’t work out. I see that it won’t work out. These are the reasons why. The reasons why I deserve better than him. There are so many things I love about him, but he makes it impossible and painful to love him. He would be perfect as a hypothetical. But he’s not hypothetical. He’s real, and he’s flawed, and he’s broken me time and time again. Whether or not it’s deliberate or malicious, he has. He’s not horrible, he’s not the worst person ever, but he’s also not as great as I’ve made him out to be in my head. When I put it this way, when I see who he really is and what he’s really done and take off the rose-colored glasses, I can finally see that. I’ve given him way too much power over me and my life. I need to break the cycle. I need to stop giving him chances to hurt me. Things are bad enough right now. The last thing I need is to feel crushed and gutted by my “friend.”

But love isn’t rational. Love doesn’t make any sense at all. Love is why, in spite of all the reasons why not, I still want him. I still love him.

[writtenbygen]

I used to think that I could write myself out of falling in love with you

that maybe words could explain my infatuation in some other way

that I was irrational, and idealistic, and naive

and I didn’t love you

not really.

But years have passed and now I realize all I’ve done

is write a seven-year-long ode to how deeply I’ve fallen for you

over and

over and

over again

no matter how many times I’ve tried to tell myself I haven’t.

I’ve been falling for seven years and it’s time for you to catch me.

[writtenbygen]

I’m not feeling much of anything these days, except for you.

How awful it was, to break down. To have one of the worst possible things that could happen in this world, happen to me. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

But how right it felt, for it to have been your arms that I fell apart into.

Life is precious, and life is short. Too short. I don’t want to waste any more of it without you.

You are my fire, and my peace.

It’s always been you.

-a letter to the one who got away—who, after all these years, came back

[writtenbygen]

You left

so I fell in love with your ghost

with the idea of you, that I never got a chance to know.

Now you’re back

I know you

the ghost is gone

and I’m just

in love with

you.

[writtenbygen]

You asked why I wasn’t wearing my wedding ring anymore

I said because it’s not comfortable

but it’s beyond that

It feels like a noose around my finger and

I’m suffocating.

[writtenbygen]

On the night we met, there was a meteor shower

that we missed. We were up all night talking while it happened outside

and we had no idea.

At the time, I thought it was an unfortunate oversight

but looking back I think it was a perfect representation of what our relationship turned into:

a series of missed opportunities

the potential to be something beautiful

but instead, always passed by.

[writtenbygen]

I should have known something was off when I always had writer’s block about him.

But for you, there were symphonies of words and somehow, there still are.

Is it really that you’re The One that got away, or is it just more tragically romantic to write about you as if you are?

[writtenbygen]

For my son: who I held in my womb for his whole life, and will hold in my heart for the rest of mine.

I carried my son for 6 days.

We had 6 days of pure, innocent bliss. 6 days where I could refer to myself as “pregnant.” 6 days where I could put my hand over my stomach and fill with love knowing my baby boy was growing in there. 6 days where my husband would kiss me and my stomach goodnight. 6 days where we were so beyond our wildest dreams happy–our hearts were so full, and we had everything we had ever wanted.

My doctor told me that if the pregnancy didn’t end itself, we would have to terminate it so it doesn’t kill me. My gut reaction was: “that’s ok, but can we just save him?” I didn’t say it because of course, I knew that wasn’t possible. But it just goes to show that even only after 6 days, my brain had been completely rewired to love my son more than life itself, and to be fully ready and willing to give my life for him if I could.

But I couldn’t. There was nothing I could do to save him. And there is truly no worse feeling in the world than not being able to protect your child. I didn’t know how to move on, and if I even wanted to. I couldn’t believe this was my life. Why was this happening to us? What did we do to deserve this?

Meanwhile, it was gut-wrenching to watch my husband grieving. He wanted to keep the first positive pregnancy test because he wants to remember the joy that our son brought us even if only for a short while. I put it in his nightstand and told him I never wanted to see it again. I feel like I just need to wipe the memory of him, of what he could have been, at least for now. I guess everyone copes differently.

It’s been a dark time realizing that my life isn’t going to turn out the way I imagined. My birthday is coming up, and I was sure I’d be a mom by this one. I never imagined I wouldn’t be even pregnant yet. I certainly never imagined I’d be 1 in 6 to struggle with infertility and 1 in 4 to miscarry. But I’m working on the things I can control and making positive changes where I can. I have no control over where our journey goes but I do have control over how I react to it.

I’m overwhelmed with confusion, frustration, and grief. And for now, I’ve decided that’s ok. It’s ok to feel sad and to grieve what could have been and to wonder “why me?” and be filled with hurt and resentment.

But I’m also grateful that this doesn’t have to be the end of our journey. It is just another bump in what is turning into a longer road than we ever thought we’d have to go down.

As hard as it is to keep moving forward, we will keep moving forward. We have been beaten down, but not defeated. We will get up and we will keep fighting. This will be the end of a chapter, but not the end of our story.

-Excerpt from a book I may write someday

-September 2020

[writtenbygen]

Some thoughts on letting go

To show how well I still know you

I didn’t ask what you were drinking. Even over the phone and from a thousand miles away, I could smell the spiced rum and iced tea blend on your breath. The same drink you had made for me three years ago, on the night we met.

Our first goodbye

The day you left, I made you promise not to say “see you soon” because it sounded like a jinx. You laughed and kissed me, and we said nothing. I memorized the look in your eyes and the lines on your cheeks when you smiled.

And our last

This time, when we hung up the phone we said “see you soon” and an hour later I had even forgotten what we had talked about. I knew I’d see you again eventually, but for once I didn’t know or care when that day would be. I no longer measure time in the number of days until I see you.

On our past

Talking to you was the same as always, and yet it was the first time I knew for sure that everything was different. Nothing changed when you left the first time, or the second, or the third. It didn’t change with I fell in love again or when you did the same. It didn’t change when you drunk dialed me to tell me you wanted me to be happy and I pretended like I believed that you were over me and pretended that my heart didn’t break at the sound of desperation in your voice. It didn’t change when I confessed that although I had moved on, the thought of you and of what we could’ve been was ruining my life.

How I’ve changed

For the first time I felt like I was telling the truth when I told you that I was truly happy and when I told myself that I was truly happy without you.

What I’ve learned

I wrote a poem last year, when I thought I would never recover. I had a professor tell me it was the best thing I had ever written. Today I found that poem and realized my heart no longer aches when I read it.

A last remark

Your place in my story has changed. You’re no longer “the one that got away,” you’re the one I finally let go.

On the future

I still listen to the Wild Feathers sometimes, and it’s not because of you.

–this is my last poem about you

-August 2018

[writtenbygen]

-May 2018 (edited)

[writtenbygen]

–at long last, I finally wrote something new

-April 2018

[writtenbygen]

​Self-portrait as a writer You are drowning– You are always drowning. The sky fills with darkness–it protrudes through your skull– it is more of an entity than you are. But you can’t quit– If you quit, you become a quitter and you are a lot of things but you are no quitter. You think that maybe if you remembered how to forget, you might be able to erase the aspects of yourself that you don’t want to immortalize– For a moment, you wish you were worthy of a second draft. But instead you have become the leaves on the ground the ticking clock the sand at the bottom of the ocean. There is beauty in darkness you are told– but all you see is nothing. You can’t quit– you are no quitter But it seems as if you are perpetually either drowning, or about to drown. You are treading water– You are always treading water until you stop. You are pulled down deeper and your mouth fills with saltwater Y o u c a n ’ t b r e a t h e for just a moment, and then suddenly before all goes still, you remember how to float.

-September-December 2017 writtenbygen

(Wrote this in September. Professor said it was too dark LOL. Here’s a new version. A little more hope this time.)

[writtenbygen]

-October-December 2017

writtenbygen

[writtenbygen]

Before and after I forgot what it was like to remember every detail about a person without even trying to, like the way their hair was parted that day, the precise dilation of their pupils, and the exact outfit they wore I forgot how to look at the stars–and not just look at them, I mean really look at them I forgot that “love” wasn’t a synonym for “anxiety” I forgot that trust wasn’t just a prerequisite for betrayal, and on that night I forgot that there was a world outside the three paneled windows that lined the wall of your living room I forgot the full moon, and how my mother used to tell me not to trust anything anyone said under a full moon I forgot that you had left before, and that you could again, and that you would when given the chance. But today I forgot all about that. I forgot how I had idealized you and I forgot how I had demonized you I forgot how much I loved you and I forgot how much I hated you. And most importantly, when you left, I forgot what you were wearing.

-December 2017 writtenbygen

[writtenbygen]

More of the same Manicured houses on roads that all lead to the ocean Where everything is so definitively Not Broken that A sign has to tell us it is Larger Than Life, but we all know It is hiding something¬–maybe the protruding existence of Reality where it shouldn’t be lurking, in the depths of some Greater Truth that no one wants to hear. Tread lightly, or you’re no different. Your deepest desire is to blend in but your greatest Fear is that you already do. You try to escape but You can’t fly away this time–it will follow you back to Central Time even though things will seem so much Clearer once you’re no longer delirious from the Altitude. Time has never been more still even though the Ocean is moving and the world is so beautiful, but Life isn’t kind to anyone who tries. Tread lightly, or you’re no different. The freeway is wide open tonight and the sun is Setting over the Golden Coast and all that Is behind you, yet the light reflecting in your Rearview mirror is blinding and the Broken roads ahead look promising but just hold More of the same. Tread lightly, or you’re no different.

–December 2017 writtenbygen