We were like two ships in the night with a vast ocean separating us,
We’ll be in same sea, on the same journey but never meeting in between
a flicker in the light from your deck is all I can see,
The waves roll on swaying across the dark unknown
spilling fear and mystery,
I look to your light,
waiting and praying the flicker grows warmer and stronger, closer to mine
Alas, the storm rages on dividing our two ships with no means to an end.
and both stuck away from each other with no way back.
Butterflies and goosebumps are fairytales. None of it lasts and so doesn’t love. At the end of the day we’re just living our lives with a roommate whom we trust and maybe decide to commit to a marriage license with as a tax deductible.
Except that latter part isn’t even something to consider in this day and age. Tax benefits for married couple doesn’t actually ‘benefit’ unless you one of you is making significantly less than the other. If you’re both at an equivalent base salary, the tough truth is you’ll end up in the same bracket as if you filed individually. How do I know this? Simple trip to my friendly trusted neighborhood CPA. She filed both my taxes and my partner’s. By the end of the 2 hour session we booked her for, I wanted to float the idea of possibly getting hitched with my partner in the next 5 years. With over 30 min left of the time we paid her for, she pranced her fingers around the calculator, played with numbers on a blank white sheet, and discovered we’d be paying more if we filed jointly. HILARIOUS.
So, back to the original subject, did your idea of love change as you grew older?
I’ve been really lucky to have felt the phase ‘in love’ longer than most during their puppy love stage. Somewhere between the transition of year 1 to year 2, my partner and I slowly but comfortably became more individuals but as a unit. I remember being glued as a siamese twin the first year. That part doesn’t last and I think we all know that. For us, it went on for almost a year and half before we fell back into our separate entities.
It is still love though. Not the same roller coaster highs and lows, but a safer sanctuary where you learn the perfect curvature of how they sleep and where you fit right in. I do miss the rampant need to cling onto my partner as a koala does on a eucalyptus tree during the early phase but its nice to fall back into a groove where I can work on my own craft and know sitting barely 12 feet away is someone who loves me doodling on his iPad and sipping his tea.
I cried a lot today
There’s pain I haven’t dealt with
Pain I’m unwilling to forget
Do I just like to feel hurt or is there a deeper root cause to why I always lack trust in others?
and here I am lighting one up
standing alone in the dark
drenched in a cold loneliness where I feel safe
because no one can see my pain.
I’m embarrassed that I carry my head held high
yet deep inside, I’m just the same little girl.
Shivering with self-hatred,
that the one who can’t love properly isn’t him, but me.
His lips tasted like salt water and freshly soaked wood on a rainy day. A combination that usually repulses me was like sweet nectar as I drank it in.
His hair smelled of faded cologne muddied with hair wax as he leaned over and placed his head on my right shoulder, prickling my skin with the stubble on his chin. A sensation that tickles and makes me uncomfortable felt familiar and warm.
When we kiss, it’s never as simple as a kiss. It’s twirling in euphoria and time standing still. It’s ignorance for everything around us except the moment we are frozen in.
He advances and I never pull away.
He tells me I’m beautiful, I don’t immediately think, “lie, lie, lie, lie….”
Am I blinded? Do I have my guard down? Or am I finally letting someone in?
I’m not sure if I’ve figured it out but I do know I was wrong.
I used to crave perfection. A paper perfect checklist of attributes and accomplishments. Instead, I found a man who was on a journey as much as I was. The type of man who’d walk 500 miles to fall down at your door. He sits on the floor with you when you’re drunk and crying at 11pm, 2am, & 4am even when he’s drunk himself. The perfect man doesn’t give you butterflies because he doesn’t exist. What does exist, is a man who will be your anchor as he lifts you up and tells you, you’re his Evangeline.
Time passes and I’m completely unsure now at this point what I want.
The head convinces me I haven’t matured,
Girls just want to have fun
The heart yearns for a meaningful companionship.
It’s time to open yourself up
The war between the two is at a standstill however eventually one stronghold should have bent to the other.
But, whom is deemed victorious?
The head proclaims out of silence, “Patience child. The time will come and enlightenment will arrive.”
Then the heart steps forward and pleads, “Dearest one, understand prospects will show but what if he’s been here the whole time? Why not give it a chance? How many prospects will pass by before you realize you’re now bewildered by options that only confound what is actually right?”
Soul eventually breaks the dichotomy.
It says it’s piece and vanishes back in search.
What the fuck are you holding out for?
If you stopped loving me, would you ever tell me?
Would you tell me as easily and boldly as the way you proclaimed you loved me?
Words are so easily spoken without action, we tend to use them for granted.
We swing between “never” & “always” on a pendulum without ever fully meaning both.
“I’ll never drink again,” says the girl hungover on a Sunday. But we all know she’ll grab a bottle the upcoming Friday surely after a long week at the office.
“I’ll always love you and cherish you,” says the lovesick boy on his wedding day. But a decade down the line, his eyes will wander as the candle he once held for his partner flickers and dies out.
We say so many things without conviction, it becomes hard to value the words we hear from others.
Where is the underlying truth? How do we learn to trust in a world where everything is accessible and nothing is valued anymore?
So before we dive into the next bold statement we carelessly spew, think:
“Will I ever so freely speak the opposite once I stop feeling this way?”
“Will I so openly tell her I’m over her, just as quickly I’ve promised I’ll love her?”
In my quest to live alone in my late twenties while I sort out my life, I’ve come to realize there’s quite a bit of down time between getting off from work and sleep.
Thanks to streaming services like Netflix & Hulu, it’s fostered a new routine: binge watch old shows and reconnect with some of my favorite heroines.
Time & time again though, I find myself harkening back to SATC. Yup, Sex & the City with Carrie’s unrequited love for Big, Samantha’s unwavering demand for her individuality, Miranda’s unforgiving nature to put work always first, and Charlotte’s undying hunt for the model husband.
Samantha struts strength in her Louboutins and brings independence towards every relationship in her life. It’s always about Samantha. It’s about putting her wants and needs first and never compromising or sacrificing that for anyone or anything. Going through a breakup? Samantha would be the first you’d text and by 7PM you’re already 3 scotches deep, eyeing the 6 foot 3 beachy manbun AND his best friend with the perfect jawline. She’ll catch on and give her nod of approval and say, “Options girl, you now got options instead of the loser you were tied to three hours ago.”
Miranda’s climbed the glass ceiling and fully smashed it when she became a partner at her firm. What an inspiration as she juggled being a single mom while she continued to be a top lawyer in NYC. The days we feel we can’t have it all, we all channel a little inner Miranda and remember we can do it and to keep going.
I want nothing more than to have the positivity Charlotte shines in all her endeavors. She’s able to find the most radiant flower in the darkest nook and cranny. Imagine going through a rough day and calling her up to come over with wine. You know she’ll have your apartment smelling like fresh baked chocolate chip cookies & buttery popcorn evenly salted to perfection while she sits with you on your loveseat listening to your problems.
Last but certainly not least, Carrie. We all learn through her mistakes. We all carry a little piece of her as we go through our own adulthood and trials in love. She taught us that in a way, we tend to always fall for the same person because we gravitate towards what we like. She gave us the hall pass to go back to the ex because sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants. She documented her pain the way we type love into words on pages. We bleed suffering onto this blog holding on to memories the way she did in her column.
These four forces have been such role models in my upbringing. I guess they’ve always been my friend as I made my own mistakes and confronted my own failures.
I lie awake unable to sleep
head and heart thrown asunder
losing my mind thinking about you
this isnt love I tell myself.
this is defeat.
it’s not a battle for affection
but a game of cat and mouse
The worst part is, my heart’s pleading to spare you
yet my head is chanting conquer
so which do I feed?
one on it’s knees…
or the one shouting to break free…?
You’ve seen enough pain.
I promised myself not to hurt you.
I don’t want you.
I just want victory.
so I keep playing.
At night I lose sleep.
plotting and fabricating.
We’re in an infinite loop.
eventually, my pride wins.
I withhold from telling you how much I care
So you leave without opening up your feelings
both our egos walk way feeling triumphant.
but somehow we both lose.