Saturday, October 1, 2011

There are things to be said

There are things to be said.

These things are of all different natures. They are not new. They are things that have been said before, by other people in other places. They are things that will be said again, when my children's children have been dead for a hundred years.

Some of these things are easy. Things like your favorite movie, or how work is going or how your dad told you once-. Things like I love you, or what you want for dinner. There are things like when I was younger and next week, things like I saw this and thought you'd like it. Things are asked for: books and backrubs and when are you coming back? There are things that are told, too, like what I'm doing some night next week or how you're trying to get your idea off the ground.

Some of these things are difficult, but you say them anyway. These are things like how much it bothered me; things like I love you. There are things that are hard to find the right words for, like how I feel or what I want or if I even do. Things like hi or you were seeing someone else, weren't you? or that feeling when you can't get enough air in your lungs- not like you can't catch your breath, but like the more you breathe the bigger your lungs get until you feel like you can expand exponentially. Things like I don't understand and the shit that's going on with your best friend and how fucking exhausted you are. Things that you know but you don't really want to know.

And there are things that are unsaid. Things like how her chemo is making her lose her hair and how for weeks I slept with your pillow beside me so that I wouldn't miss you so much. Things like how I actually really want you here or how it's really not that hard to send one damn message, or how that week was the best week of my life. Things like I really did love you, you know; things like stop. Things are wondered: what if and why can't you just and what if it's me? These things follow you through the years; they linger and repress and recur and never actually really go away because somewhere down the line something makes you think of it and you wonder what ever happened to- but you never bother to find out. There are things that the tongue cannot shape, things that the heart can articulate but the brain has trouble with. There are things that the weight of your hand on my hip tells me that your actions do not. There are the things that you think. There are the things that I think. There are things that I think I should tell you.

There are more things to be said.

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