She Said

I was sitting in the middle of my bed, legs crossed, trying to concentrate on the book I was reading. I probably should have been studying for the test I would be having the next day, but my mind was craving some real fiction (yes, real fiction) and I refused give it statistics in lieu of it's true want.
Try as I might, I couldn't focus on the book. One of my roommates was chatting not so quietly with her boyfriend while another was talking to me. Was the open book in my hands not an indication that I'd rather not listen to either of them? Well, I'd chosen to have two roomies; one on the left and one one the right. So this must be my punishment for not thinking things all the way through.
Evidently Right-Side roomie said something I was supposed to respond to, because there was a pregnant pause. Actually, the moment was quieter than it ought to have been. I looked at Left-Side roomie and she was looking at me, too. What had been said that I'd missed while purposely ignoring them both?
"Sorry, what," I asked.
Left-Side roomie ended her phone call and rolled over to join in the conversation. Man, it must've been a doozy.
"I said,"continued right-side,"you only want him because he's taken. If he were single, you wouldn't look at him twice. You're just one of those kinds of girls. You'll always want someone else's man and he'll never be yours."
I sat perplexed. "Wait, what?" I couldn't have heard what my brain was telling me I had. But I had, because she repeated it again and much more slowly.
A million cutting words slipped to the edge of my tongue and I inhaled in preparation to slice into Right-Side as if I'd been saving up my entire life for this moment. Left-Side interjected quickly,"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."
That was all it took to bring me back to the reality of the moment. This girl didn't know me. She didn't know the guy in reference. And she didn't know anything about our relationship except that we knew each other and talked a lot.
Still. Those words burned into my memory. What did it say about me that someone who didn't really know me thought such unsavory things about my personality? Could it be that she could see something in me that I didn't know was there? No, no. Of course not. I was being ridiculous. But it still hurt.
But I did start keeping a close eye on myself. Yes, I know it sounds crazy, but that's what I did. Time passed, and my feeling were... well, to put it gently, unrequited. It wasn't sweet, but it could have been worse. He ended relationships, he was single, he began new relationships and I cared all the while. Sometimes I'd wonder if I kept caring just to prove that it wasn't just a passing fancy or a need to have what someone else did. Nothing ever did become of him and me. But I wasted a lot of time watching myself love someone crushingly. What entertainment...
And all because of some idiocy she said.

Fairy tale Lies?

I was never the girl who believed her life would be a like the fairy tales. I didn't identify with the princesses in the stories. And why should I? My daddy didn't run a country; just our house.
All I ever wanted out of life was to be happy. Not that Cinderella happy that just happens because you're that good. For one, I just wasn't that good. I was OK, I guess, but not that movie princess good. I mean, who's that good, anyway? So I never hoped for the easy, no-work, happily ever after. Then I met HIM.
I'd met lots of guys. I expected no more from him than any of the ones I already knew. Really, I expected less. Three months into college had made me a pre-jaded young woman; wary of more than I'd like to admit. But I guess that just show how life really can be like a fairy tale: Things are never quite what they seem or what you expect.
With HIM, the proverbial shoe fit. HE made me feel like royalty. Like I was more than the wonderful I already considered myself to be. It was a heady feeling. To be more than you imagined means you can let down guards, break down walls, and give access. All of these I did. I could finally share my hopes, dreams, trepidations, and fears. I could laugh or cry freely without ever feeling judged. I could curl into a ball, rock myself out of pain and into sleep, and HE'd be beside me when I awoke, rubbing my back and whispering reassurances. Frightening how free I became, how open. With HIM I was literally without guile or malice. How could I be? To be accepted completely allows you to accept others completely. It was never fairy tale easy. If it were, it probably wouldn't be worth having. But it was glorious, memorable, and inexplicably...sharp.
Years after I was too old to believe in fairy tales I saw a spark of truth. I saw what my girlfriends saw when they were watching those movies that are, today, proclaimed to be liars.
Who knew? The little girl who never believed in fairy tales would grow into a woman who was living one.

Untitled

My writinG bearS your name, yet thoSe who read it Still wonder.
I lay awake at night, makinG conSCiouS effort not to think of you. I pray for Sleep and as it Sweeps to Claim me, I CrinGe at the prospect of dreaminG of you. But I will dream. I alwayS do.
MomentS where I miGht forGet, where I miGht walk away with love and pain behind me, do not Come.

I inhale and your SCent iS on the breeze. I CloSe my eyeS and your Smile iS behind my eyelidS. I Swallow and I Can taSte you. I feel you when there is nothinG beneath my handS but air, and your voiCe trickleS into everythinG my earS hear. My memorieS, my thouGhts of the future, my every moment iS themed around you. WaS there no me before there waS an uS?

There'S no one left with whom to talk. No one left who haSn't attempted to Carry my heart'S burden and found it too heavy, too Sharp, too Slippery, or juSt plain too much. It'S too much to Share but I Carry it alone. Every day, without pauSe.
I Can't be helped and I Can't help myself.

Something Stupid

So I was listening to old mix CDs (remember those?) and came across a song I barely remember burning.
It's called "Something Stupid" and performed by Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman.
Ironic how I didn't recognize it at first listen, but how apropos it was and still is.

"And though its just a line to you, for me its true/ It never seemed so right before...
I practice every day to find some clever lines to say/ To make the meaning come through/ But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late/ And I'm alone with you.
And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid
Like: I love you"

Not too long ago this was very much my story. I think back and realize that that inebriated but very clear 'I love you' was a turning point. I can't spend time going over all that's happened between the whispered words and now. But even now, the ripples are still going. Isn't that crazy? The theory of a butterfly effect. That everything has an effect on everything else and reverberates through time and across all boundaries.

So back to the topic at hand. I wouldn't classify myself as a 'gusher'. You know the gushers; those people that must remind you that they love you every time you speak. I don't have anything against them, mind you. Some of my greatest loves are gushers. But that just isn't me.
But I'm not afraid to say it, though. I only say it if I mean it and when I feel the words pressing against my throat to be released. The love is always there, but sometimes there's a moment or a thought that sends an overflow of love and I have to express it in a tangible way.
That's how it happened that one night. We were lying on the floor, in the dark, a little past buzzed but not quite drunk. I was staring out the window, watching the lightning, listening to the thunder, and wondering where the rain was. "What an odd storm", I thought to myself. And in that moment I couldn't help myself. I'll admit that I weighed the option of not saying it. But I realized it would be better to say it now and be able to pass it off as drunken affection, than if I held it in and it burst out at an awkward and uncomfortable juncture. Well, you know what I did next. But it's what he did next that shook me.
No.
It's what he didn't realize he did next that shook me. He stuttered. He wasn't speaking when it happened, but I felt it in the air, in his spirit, in his soul- like an electric crackle across my skin. An instantaneous pause, that I might have missed if it had been anyone but him. And, oh, how it hurt. I will never be able to deny that. That hiccup within himself made me wish I'd been born mute; anything to avoid having said something to make him skip a beat before responding.
I won't go into the response, either. I heard it, I remember it. It's emblazoned in my mind. But it's really not important. Not to me, anyway.
All this to say that after that night, nothing was the same. It was very subtle, but I was always a fan of subtlety and if he was doing it consciously, he did it in the best way he could. He claimed not to remember that bit of conversation that night and I claimed to believe him. Why shouldn't I? He has no reason to lie, does he?
But I'll never forget my something stupid: the one time my 'gift of gab' and my unwavering bravery in the face of the unknown answer turned against me. My butterfly effect. My something stupid. My unwanted 'I love you.'