Friday: Writing

One night I slept with the light on, like a child, because I was struck by what I guess you could call a panic attack. It didn't help that my system was loaded with conflicting narcotics, but I suddenly found myself lying wide awake in the dark and shivering even though the air was still with heat. I turned on the light, but the walls continued to move in toward me.

You see, I had been thinking about you, and I had been thinking about the anniversary of our break up and what exactly an "anniversary" means: one year since I said the words and walked out the door, one year since I have seen you, one year I have spent stuck in the same broken place.

One year farther away from the last time we made love, one year farther away from our last bittersweet day at the zoo, one year farther away from the night we made dinner and jumped on the bed, one year farther away from the day you came home from England and I cried to hold you, one year farther away from the day you bought me an unexpected Valentine's Day present, one year farther away from that night smoking pot with your dad in your parents' garage, one year farther away from New Year's in San Francisco, one year farther away from....

And I realized that between those moments of memories, there was an increasing darkness, as if from a night of blackout drinking, and that even the events I could recall were beginning to fade into a horizon of age and time.

For four years I spent my life alongside yours. And now I have spent three hundred and sixty-five days without you, still clinging to the hope that we are not yet lost, while the reality of you slowly slips through my fingers. I begin to wonder if I ever knew you at all, if there will one day come a time when those four years will be merely one spark among a cluster of dead fuses. When that happens, will I only know you in dreams?

I have learned much about myself that I could not have learned with you inside that cramped apartment we shared, but I hopelessly wonder if part of what I have learned is how incomplete I truly am without you. I naively dream that like some mythic story, you will cross mountains and overcome demons to return to me, that we were forged from the same cosmic fire, that fate will end our fairytale happily ever after.

And like a child, sleeping with her nightlight on to keep the closet monsters at bay, I wish upon a star, blowing out the candles and never breathing a word.

Writing July 10 2009
Dedicated to those who likewise wander this Land of Broken Dreams. One day you will find your peace of mind.