He had mentioned forseen traumas about to come to pass. He always thought those things, and his thoughts always left me so alone and frightened. Fast forward to the inevitable. I found myself a million miles from home on that cold concrete; the promises of love screetching through the most painful tears that I had ever cried up until that point, and possibly ever again. I felt my pleading deflect off of a wall and break to pieces on the ground. He held me, both of us now sitting on that cold concrete with two others watching on, but it was if they weren't there at all, as I broke down under a tent of his embrace. You see, for the first time in an entire lifetime of being alone and forced to watch other's lives being lived, as I was not privilaged enough to be amongst the others, for the first time in my life, I had someone to put my hope in, and in him I put everything. He was everything I had ever wished for into an infinite black sky, night after night for years on end. He was my world. Soul mates. He found the deepst lochs of my lonely heart, and I of his. I gave him every piece of me as I rested; assured that our future was guaranteed. The plan was for me to move out with him, someday be married and we both would be the only things we'd ever yearn for. And thus, all my eggs were put into one collective basket. I was still such a little girl inside, previously untouched and unbidden. I knew nothing of the pain that would eventually break me in every imaginable way. He was the first, and in many regards, the last. We met at the airport, as I had never flown across country alone before. I was certain he'd find me repulsive and the entire trip would be spent wishing I had never come out to begin with. I was overweight and hadn't a clue how to take care of myself; I was nothing short of a visual train wreck. Our eyes met as he was the only thing I saw through an entire crowd of frantic people searching for their luggage. 'Hello's' were exchanged with an air of uncertainty on my part. I figured he hated me, as he was rather silent all the way back to his car. He unlocked the doors to his car, I sat down, as I used every ounce of my being to hold back the tears of my disappointment. I turned my head to the right and upwards towards the night sky, as if waiting for something to come along and save me from this moment. I felt a pull on my shoulder towards the left, my head turned back in the same direction, and the next thing I know, I was in the middle of a kiss. A kiss of love and purity, right there, beneath that clear, night sky that I had just been staring at in silent redemption. "I just had to do it," he said. Years of being neglected and invisible to the world seemed to be a just price to pay for this one, single moment. And at that point, I was carefree, as I knew I had found someone that loved me and promised to never leave me, and most importantly, meant it. My stay there spanned an entire 9 days. He begged me not to leave. It was the first time in my life that someone had begged me to stay anywhere with them. He told me he wanted to rip up my plane ticket home, and I'd be forced to stay. I spent the next 2 years wishing he would have. Boarding was being called by such an unforgiving voice over the announcement system. He handed me a beaded bracelet, to which he proclaimed to be a symbol of what we meant to each other, and I put it on my wrist, again, holding back tears. "I love you,' he said to me, without a single bit of doubt in his eyes. I returned the notion as well as a hug, just before I left my heart right there in Sacramento International Airport. The flight home was one of mixed emotions. I was torn between feeling so relieved and ecstatic at how events had unfolded and the utter sadness of having to leave him behind. We connected the distance by means of phone conversations, E-mails and IM's. Someone once said, and no one ever remembers exactly who, that distance makes the heart grow fonder. This became my mantra that I kept in my back pocket at all times. 2 months had come and gone since we had last been together, physically. I sensed the distance becoming more and more an issue. I tried to mend situations as best I could by assuring him that I would be out there shortly, and distance would never again be something to worry about. As the conversations rolled on into the following weeks, his outlook became dreary and ridden with gloom. I was slowly but surely being replaced by a mutual female friend of ours who lived in Sacramento and was good friends of the family. Since I wasn't able to be there as a shoulder to cry on for his lingering depression; she was there with open arms. I had brought this up to him, as I noticed our conversations online became more and more interrupted by her and him conversing. I began to feel betrayed and overwhelmingly vulnerable. He tried his best to explain to me that "you don't have to worry about Carrie and I." And with that, I believed him. I don't quite recall the words or the time of day, but what I do recall vividly is the aftermath of what words he did slay me with. It was over. No more rest in knowing he belonged to me. No more kisses. No more innocent, unspoiled stares of true love. No more future that I had put all my heart into. All that resonated in my head were the empty promises and the feelings of faithlessness in love. How could I have let myself out in the open, with no armor, giving my heart to him? Giving my heart to anyone at all? He said he loved me. He meant every word of it, but people change, even if only in a matter of a few months. I told him I was coming out there to see him, and in the back of my mind, hoping that this return visit would emulate the first, and he'd realize that he was wrong, and that I was the only one he ever wanted to be with. What I returned to was a polar opposite of what I wished would happen. Since we were technically no longer a couple, there were large, uncomfortable voids where intimacy belonged. I'd take long glances into his eyes and vainly try to reprogram his thinking. "You're making a mistake," I told him from my mind onto an invisible, inaudible pathway directly into his eyes. No matter how hard I tried, I knew it was all for naught. I tried my best in coping and being understanding of everything that was going on. I tried so hard that I denied myself the pain and hurt that I ought have voiced directly to him, but me, the coward and appeaser that I was, warded off the pain with a plastic understanding and immitated heartfelt responses. Because inside, all I wanted was him, and if I couldn't have him, then I saw myself as good as dead. This is when we found ourselves in that tent-like embrace, on that cold, concrete floor. Me, sobbing on his shoulder, incoherently pleading with him to change his mind. It was such a pathetic display and one of the worst moments of my life. I knew, through the tears, that it was futile; that you can't help who you love and who you don't. And in his eyes, I saw sorrow and guilt, as to say he didn't mean for things to turn out this way. And some may have taken that as comforting, but to me, it was almost like a nail in the coffin. The last night I ever saw him, we were standing alone in his sister's driveway. Him; leaned up against the car, and me; standing in front of him approximately 10 inches away. The sky was clear, as I always seem to be looking up at it as often as I could without seeming weirder than already concluded. "I still want you to move out here, you know," he assured me. "We would live together?" I questioned back. He paused for a moment, and just looked at me. "Maybe you and Nick could live out here in a place together..." he said, as that was his way of saying that he did not want to live with me. "But, I want to make sure that you're moving out here for reasons other than the hopes of us getting back together," he continued. And as had become almost customary with me, his words and actions, I tried to hold the tears back, because in that instant, I knew I'd never see him again. What I was left with were the shattered hopes of love and happiness that I still cut myself on to this very day. What I was ingrained with were the facts of the situation: that change is the only constant, and though I trusted what deserving people said in the moment and knew they meant every word they were saying to me, that when it boils down to it, they aren't in control of how their feelings could change down the line. I cannot live for the moment and ignore all else, as I fear the wake of heartbroken disaster that would engulf me, fully. In the year and a half following the last night I saw him, was nothing short of a daily, living nightmare that grew as the days passed on. I was haunted by all I had lost and what someone else gained in my place. My faith in humanity, in love, in taking people to their word, dissolved to its bitter end. I began to unconsiously see things in the big, biased picture, and the thought of giving my heart to anyone else, only for them to have a change of heart and leave me to myself, was violently nauseating. When I reflect back on it, in such times as now, I resent it all completely. I've been turned into this cold person, unable to fully trust in love. Unable to feel so many emotions that have now been all but destroyed in me. All I can think is, "I trust that this person loves me now, but they will change their mind in the end, and I cannot afford to put my all into anything ever again, lest I will surely end up taking my own life," because I absolutely cannot go through again, what I went through with him. In fact, looking back, I know it wasn't of my own strength that I made it out alive, because if it were, I wouldn't be here right now, which sometimes I'm unsure whether that's a good thing or not. I work daily in trying to make headway against those that have wronged me, and most often I'm taking regressive steps and I seem worse now than when it had all just occurred. I deal with the anger and frustration of those past events that continue poison my future and current relationships with others. When I'm told that I'm loved, it scares me to death, because I knew where love had lead me before, and it's a place I wish to never return to again. Bitter resentment. Cold distance. Resurfacing wounds. All I want is to enjoy the moment and not be a prisoner of my past. But this all seems so impossible, even 4 years after the fact. 4 years later, and I'm still weeping and tending to the wounds. If you were wondering about that symbolic beaded bracelet he had given me; I threw it out the car window one night, down a less than busy street in Manhatten.
Sacramento Blues
3:05 p.m.//06.02.05
Mood: Reflecting
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