Look at us. Look at the distance between us. This distance; I can stretch my arms and cannot reach you and that is the definition of distance; to not be able your bones against mine, to feel the shiver down your spine go down mine too.
Look at us. How did we get this far? How did we get here at all? I am standing here and you are standing there and in between us there is this huge wall of hurt and remorse and pain and resentment.
You used to like me at some point didn’t you? You used to like nudging shoulders and having me close and having our breaths in sync, the rhythmic rise and fall of our chests; the slight smiles always on our faces. You used to like me before.. right? There was something and I didn’t make it all up. But look at us now.
I want to hold you close and feel your ache as my own and to feel the words coming out of your mouth fall right into mine and to understand your pain as my own but you are too fucking far. You don’t want me to share your parts anymore. You don’t want me to breathe your air and to share your moments to and stumble and fall my way into your arms.
You refuse to take me as your own and you refuse to acknowledge Us. You refuse you to take a step forward and you refuse to let me hold on. You make it hard on purpose and you make it impossible to leave. You reel me in and push me away and you slap the door only to leave it unlocked. You look straight into my eyes only to break away the contact and you brush past my hands only to remind me what it was.
You seep into my skin only to settle down but never going deeper than skin. You used to make up my bones and every fibre of me.
Now you sit in my skin and keep me wondering.
You walk past me, to me and stand right next to me. You stand without a word and I know it. I can feel your smile creeping onto your face and it reaching your eyes and traveling down to your shoulders, where yours ends and mine begins and this smile latches onto to my face and my muscles instinctively know what to do and they smile not knowing why or when or for what but they do as they are told (or not told) and we are both smiling and I look up at him and say, “Why? Why are we always doing this?”
He laughed, a long hearty laugh that arises from the heart, travels upward to the throats and comes out as a gurgle of water in a river bed and I burst into giggles and this is how it’s always been . Easy. Nothing with him was ever torture or lamenting or waiting. It was easy and straightforward and if there was a problem it would be sorted with ease.
This is US. This has always been Us. Its been magic and tragic. Chaos and Wonder and through it all, I’ve worn heels and flats and boots and skates and I’ve run and fallen and jumped and screamed and He’s worn a jacket and a sweater and woollen gloves and gone three days without being able to find his clothes and I’ve laughed and cried and he’s held me close and laughed with me, at me, for me and I’ve stayed here wondering what went wrong and what went right and it’s been easy and maniac but would you look back and want anything different?
He looks down and says, “Why not? We are not here for the Forevers and Always. We are not here to write the perfect little passage on roses and blooms. On becomings and un-becomings. We are not here to do exactly as we are told and to bow when needed to break our backs for the rest. We are here to blaze fire as we stand and melt glaciers as we breathe. We are here to live on impulse and the magic that is created with the friction of you and I. We are here to scream at the top of our lungs and shout from the highest peak of a mountain, to run a thousand beats per second and to laugh with no need and to let the tears flood when there is a need and that is what we are here for.
We are not here for the happy ending, we are here for the Goddamn Story.
“At arm’s length. All problems need to be at arm’s length. There should be nothing that should prevent me from taking care of Myself and putting Myself before anyone else. That is why, it has all Got to be, It is almost imperative for all problems to be at arm’s length and that is the only way that I choose to live this life of mine. Its mine and I choose to put myself above the toxic and cruel nature of words that go around being carried out by thin air and noise that resonates from a source far away into my ears and that is what I will prevail against. All of these vicious words and these horrible noises will be exactly and Only that. They will not become my problems and they will not hinder with my being and they will not prevent me from waking up every morning with a goal and a will to live. I will not let this drag my feet down and want to curl back into bed, where oblivion was really Bliss.
I will prevail and they will be at arm’s length. My arm’s length is where everything useless and toxic shall stay. “