things are a living and breathing schizophrenia lately. piling up friends and work, making friends that remind me of others, realizing we are all pieces of a same puzzle and we put each other together according to what we've known. sol and i have been with each other for 2 months yesterday, and mia doesn't bark at me. i know what her face looks like when she sleeps, her soft cheeks against my bony shoulders and smelling her hair as soon as i wake up and all the burns are not even dull aches anymore, they're not there anymore. not in the air or on my mind. i don't think of you, or of you, or of you anymore. my 3 libras. and it's like of me to let go easily except with those who've crawled through my insides and peered into me but it just doesn't hurt anymore. some things never heal, of course. but life gets less and less hellish by the passing day. i'm finding this odd sense of peace, and nostalgia. i'm restless. i want to leave all the time, of course, as always, but even more so lately. i can't stand being here anymore, i'm scared i'll never leave.
i love her so much it's hard to believe it sometimes but i love her and i didn't think i could love someone like that again but i do, i do and for the first time in months i'm jealous again, jealous of those who've come before me, but jealous of what, really? i was the first in things she's never even dreamed about doing, things no one else will ever do to you for the first time. yet still. that which i have claimed, sadly, is that which i feel too close to my skin and bones to even fanthom foreign minds having inspired some kind of response before i had come along. i hate it but at the same time i don't want to lose her, i don't want to ever stop scrunching her thick curls in my palms or kissing her eyes when she's resting warm and safe next to me and there's nothing better, i've forgotten what it was like to feel so at peace with someone, to talk about whatever comes to mind; something to protect, to help and to dry off some stray tears, to watch it as it grows, maybe nurture it? i hope so for i would never want to cause you any strife moonflower. and if i ever do please cut this old vine before it gets out of hand. nothing should get in your way of happiness.
lucas reminds me of you so much and i've told him everything. about you, about sebastian, about sol, and zoe. he knows me so well in so little time, it's incredible.
i'm still tired all the time, as always. no matter how joyful i am, i'm always tired. constantly. it comes with being sick, i guess. but it does get better.
sol offered to visit mati with me and i honestly wanted and want to say yes. i want to introduce her to you somehow, but i would never want her to go through a situation even remotely related to that. it's too painful and too sickening; the smell of rotting flowers, the grandmothers with their bouquets as they arrange them over their dead grandchildren, the plaques hanging off the wall because no one takes care of the graves anymore. i don't want her to go to a funeral ever, i told her. never again. i'll never go to a funeral again except for my own. never. i never want to smell rotting flesh and flowers again.
how terrible it is to love something so easily perishable and it's been said so many times but it's so, terribly true. it was so very real, the way i clutched your hands when i told you that i would die if anything happened to you matias, and how you should look both ways before crossing the street. it's so very vivid, moonflower, when i tell you to text me when you get back safely. it's so terrible because i honestly would have prefered for him to lose me as a friend if it meant he could still be alive. that's the thing. oblivion is the fear. the fear of loosing cami and mati and sol and my sister and my father and myself to the black gates of forgetfulness, to sleep in a state of waste and uselessness. to have gone through so much pain and so much terror, for what? no. i can't think of these things right now.
i'm happy. but i'm sick, as always. i have my days, i guess. and it gets better.