Friday, 29 May 2009

  • Water Lilly Love

    Dear Ethan,

    Today I've just been feeling so messed up. Its like I don't know where I'm going, so I'm everywhere at once, erratic, inconstant. I've just discovered how observant I really am - I notice everything from who walks with pigeon toes to who can smile even when they walk alone. No one blends in to me; they're all separate people, individual even in their similarities. No two people are the same. I notice so much about everyone else, and yet no one is noticing me.

    This morning I was a wildfire, raging through the hallways and running away from my friends, not listening when they told me to slow down. I couldn't slow down. With so many questions barraging my ears from so many different directions, I couldn't stop for more. I had to be anywhere but there, needed to think, needed to have the answers to everything.

    But even once I was alone, I couldn't think. It's like I was floating, lost, like I should belong to someone but I don't, like an ugly puppy in the pound that no one wants. Not deserted, but like no one cared in the first place; there had never been anyone to desert me from the start. Unholy, not quite whole, incomplete. A gaping wound right through my gut - empty.

    I feel so sore, Ethan, like I'm worn out, exhausted, pushed to my limit and over the edge. Like I'm made of smoke, drifting through minds and bodies, unnoticed by those I pass, transparent. Anyone could look inside my head and discover who I am, but no one's bothering to take the time. I'm here. Where are you?

    And what would you say if you could hear me, see me in the insecurity of this moment, so unlike the girl I introduced you to? I feel hunched over, bent in half, yet no one's pushing me; I'm just wilting, an abandoned flower, pathetic and lonely, left to die. No one cares enough to push me down.

    I no longer feel oppressed and tormented, which I suppose is a good thing, but I'm beginning to see this non-torture as almost worse. At least before I was tangible, visible, solid - now I'm dishonest, small, and breakable, unable to find the strength for anything. Weakened, sucked clean from the inside out, worthless. Tinier than I was before. Shrunken.

    No agony, just absence. I take in everything, but no one wants to take me in. A wall flower that no longer has the voice to scream, the willpower to stand up for herself. So many people are walking all over me, yet they don't even notice who they're trampling. They don't care. I don't know how to take care of myself, Ethan. I want you to take care of me instead.

    But could you do that, if you wanted to? Are you capable of letting me in, allowing me to discover you? I've opened myself up to far too many boys, but not one of them has ever done me the same service, selfish, scared. The sands of time are shifting. Could you let yourself take shelter under my wing, let me whisper words of wisdom in your ear? Could you let me breathe you in?

    I wish I could know you, strip you down to your simplest form, pull away all the extra and see only what you don't want me to see. I could cradle you like a water lilly in a child's hand, let our love bloom, watch in awe as your true colors swin to the surface, see peace at its most pure. Just as water cools and stills, so we would grow to be together, comfortable, at home in each other's arms. Relaxed.

    You should understand, however, that I am what one would call "co-dependent." I need to be needed, depend on someone to depend on me. Reciprocation is all I want: A person who will share with me the deepest shards of their very core. Does anyone know their center like I do? Who else but me could describe themselves in such a way that lets someone else come inside? I'm the warmest house in the dead of winter, my heart the fireplace you warm your shaking hands by. I could let you in; you know that. All you have to do is ring the doorbell and call my name, and I'll be there.

    I shouldn't need you, Ethan, but I do. I can't hold myself down, so light that I float away, off into space, needing you to keep my feet on the ground. You won't know until I tell you, but I'm so desperately lost, and if you tried, you could find me. I can't make it back to reality on my own; I don't know the way home. You do, and I need you to show me. I won't survive out here much longer.

    But even if you could save me, would I want you to? Could the same feeling that destroyed me in the past now rebuild me, pull me up from the ashes, reborn? At one time, I could fly, a phoenix flame on the air, but my wings have shrunk, refused to grow back again. I'm a baby, helpless and motherless, struggling to find a way to grow up. Can you help me learn to live on the ground?

    You smooth me over with your softest sandpaper touch, but now I'm smoothed too much, all rounded edges and empty circles. My personality has been sanded away, blown off into the wind with the carelessness of dandelions, and I can't get up to gather them back. You were born to smooth, but could you learn to remake?

    I'll teach you how to heal me, stitch me up again; I'll guide your hand to the places where I'm missing things. It doesn't hurt, so you're out of your element, but it's lacking feeling, numb. Do you know how to make me feel again?

    I could ask you, but I'm too afraid, unsure, not confident enough to declare my non-existence. I've told you things before, but never the most important ones, never shown you my silver cries, my demon. Will I hide in the background of your life forever, or could you lead me up to center stage?

    Not comfortable yet, I'll watch our water lilly bloom, and wait for your colors to fall into my hand. Peace.

    Love, Dark Angel.

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