Thursday, January 06, 2005

That hurt. It seems that I don't know you as well as I once thought I did. I thought that you telling me you liked talking to me and that you enjoyed my company meant that you would want to talk to me. Time goes by and where are you? You've disappeared without a trace, without a hint for me to know if everything's okay. You could be dead for all I know. I e-mail you, trying to find out if you're okay, if there's a reason why you've jumped off the face of the planet. It's been so long that I can barely even remember the last words I said to you.

Time passes and I hear nothing of you. I worry and you know I worry. I worry for your sake because my mind wanders and it thinks of more and more dramatic situations. Deeper my imagination dwells into the pits of darkness where my thoughts become black swirling masses of horrible things. Your face battering against the inner walls of my head barely registers for I am lost in a sea of nightmares. I think of the worst things that could have happened to you. Horrible things are the only explanation because, I know you, and you wouldn't disappear without letting me know when you'll be back. You wouldn't do that, I know it. You'd have the courtesy to get in touch with me. You'd want to prevent my ache.

I ache for you, you know. My body physically aches for you. My skin for your touch, my ears for your voice, my nose for your scent, my lips for your kisses, my brain for your words. It is all gone, but I still had your words to wrap around me, covering me in a blanket of warmth. Knowing that you still wanted to be my friend kept me smiling through the bleakest hours. Ripped away, like a baby animal from its mother's teat, I am spiraling lost in the world. I search for your words, only to gain more distance into the maze that is you. I once thought I had a pencil line trailing behind me, tracing my path through your pathways and your back alleys. I once thought I had you written down to a point where, I may not be able to understand you always, but I had a pretty solid idea of you. This giant eraser has taken away my pencil tracings and, not only my pathways, but all the walls of your maze. I am standing in a vast empty space with no clue of where you went. Would tracing my world in pen have helped any? No.

I cried for you last night. I cried for what we had, I cried for what we lost, but most of all, I cried for your friendship. Maybe if I took that pen and traced your name into the maze of my flesh you would become permanent. The swirls and whirls of my fingerprints seem so simple compared to your complications. I once thought that I was taking the right path through your maze to figure you out. Now I don't even have the dusty remains of the walls to guide me through the mess. Everything is a mess.

This morning I awoke and you had contacted me. It had been so long that I don't even know when we had spoken last. My tongue throbbed for all the words I wanted to say to you but couldn't. You told me that you were alright and that I shouldn't worry. That was all. Nothing more. I once thought that you liked talking to me and that you enjoyed my company. Did I do something wrong? Did you just lie to me? Why couldn't you have told me that you were going away for so long? Am I not worthy of holding the knowledge of your disappearance? Why couldn't you just have told me that you needed some time to yourself for a while? I won't contact you anymore to tell you that I'm worried about you even though I am. I want to know that you're always okay. I want to talk to you. Need to?

I hurt because I feel that you don't like me enough to tell me things. I hurt because I feel lied to. I hurt because I love you. I hurt because it's been so many days since I've seen you and talked to you. Why didn't you tell me? Seconds, minutes, days, months... must I really wait through all of these just to hear from you? At the end of every day when school is over, I sit here wondering if you're doing okay. You never think the same, do you. It's not even a question, but a statement.

Pulling out my pencil, I close my eyes and enter the area in my mind where your maze once was. I start to draw again, but this time, I'm not trying to find my way through your puzzles, I'm drawing a new version of you in my head. One who has shut me out and is fine with that. One who once told me I was their world. One who couldn't even take a moment of their time to tell me that they were going away for a while. Trembling and sobbing, I grab my pen and begin to ink my drawing. Once the ink is dry the drawing can't be smudged or erased. It will remain permanent in my head. Eventually, it may fade a bit or get drawn over, but the ink will always remain. The drawing of you will always remain. But, how long will I have to wait before you remember me and talk to me again? How long will it be before the ink dries?

On a lighter note, I took some more pictures and will post them some other time (maybe this weekend if you're all good boys n' girls). Here's a sample:


*stupid link of the day* Lip Balm Anonymous: This site is hilarious! I'll admit, I have an addiction, but not to the minty stuff; it's the slimy feeling of slick lips. Mmm... "Our primary purpose is to stay free from lip balm and to help others achieve the same freedom." - LBA JeN's mind ejaculated @ 5:39 p.m. | | permalink