I wrote a long while back a blog to my friend, or my x boyfriend x friend, and it was because he had stopped contacting me under the pretense of trying to get over me, and told me not to contact him, so, since our relationship was pretty strong, I respected his need for space.
Until I received a text at 2 am from him saying to check my facebook. I got up during the sunlight hours, read the message and immediately did as instructed. It had been months since we had talked last, probably almost 9 since I had started dating someone else and usually other x boyfriends find their way into the wood work when that happens (or they go totally ham on you (ham meaning crazy, try hard, etc) and attempt to take your attention back to them).
He had send me a document title: “Hey”. In the same chat box, I could see the last message he had sent me. Something about not wanting to ever talk to me again. Liar. He had always been a bad liar anyways, and I saw right through him. That sad part was, he knew I knew, but he kept at it.
The document contained… at least 3 pages of him talking about an extensive amount of things that were going on with him, and how he still thought of me, and still loved me, and wanted me back with all of his heart. He went on, saying
“Truthfully, you’re reading this because you were not expecting in the slightest a message from me. Maybe you were, I don’t know how your mind reading skills have developed, but for all intents and purposes, this is completely random. “
I can only read his mind because I know him so well, but it baffles him for some reason. Adorable.
Then he wrote so many “I’m sorry for..” and “I know you know..” I can’t quite summarize it very well.
“Finally, I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. My mind works as well as a political organization, and is therefore subject to make completely idiotic decisions. There is so much more stuff I’d like to apologize for, but either can’t think of, or they are too relevant to list here. I’ve made bad decisions throughout the two years I’ve known you, and honestly, it feels like twenty. I’ve aged so much mentally, and gained wisdom I never would have gotten otherwise. But at what cost? In my attempt to gain the answers to everything, I lost you, friends, and people close to me. I realize now which is more important, but hindsight is always 20/20.”
While I was reading this I cried a lot. I also laughed at that second line there. “Works as well as a political organization,” great comparison. He was also really right about most of the stuff he said about things between us. We were best friends, and we fought for each other. Both of us while we knew each other were surrounded by people that tore us down, and tried to tear our relationship apart. I am proud to say those people were never the reason for our relationship coming to a close, at least not on my end… I think they may have affected him in a way I didn’t understand at the time. Our breakup was comical since it was the last of many, breakups and getting back togethers, but the after shock didn’t set in till later when his brother died. I had already been in contact with his mother a lot since he was suicidal and she was on my speed dial, but when she talked to me about the death, she told me things I would never be able to tell him.
She knew the death wasn’t an accident. No one wanted to tell him, and I dont think he knows today.
A year later, he and I had still been talking off and on, but never as fervently as we had that summer.
Around the same time of year, his father had taken the plunge. I knew this was almost the last straw for him, he had always said he hated his dad, for everything, but I knew no one could hate their dad… not enough to be happy when he was dead.
I called and left a voicemail. But I didn’t think it was enough. He called me back a day later, and we talked… I tried to make him laugh, but I think it was fake and forced.
It’s been almost a year since then, and he hasn’t been well at all, and he refused to talk to me after that.
After receiving the letter in September, we skyped, I doubted we could see each other in person. It wasn’t the same, we were different people.
A bit of my letter in response to him:
“I look at your name on my favorite pair of pants and its all crossed out and written over.
But its still there.
Sharpie is permanent marker and I always write in it.”
…..But you know me.
I sat on this small purple couch curled up with Juliet. The radio we had turned up too high, but it was perfect. A song came on that was very familiar to me, Juliet started singing it.
“You gotta know the words to this,” she said, mocking me.
“I do, I think..I just haven’t heard it forever.”
“That’s good, ‘cus I think I was born knowing the words to this. Everyone is.”
“We were born knowing the words to this? Okay.” I stated singing the chorus.
“See!” Juliet said, she didn’t look at me, but she giggled and smiled turning her face away.
I remember the song being some early ’00s rock but… I cant put my finger on what the name of it was. I really wanna hear it right now though. I think a lot about how things will work out in the near future, but I try not to dwell on it too much because if I make any commitments in my heart to a certain future I know it wont go my way. As always.
Maybe you didn’t know, but I am a dancer, not a pole dancer or a strip club dancer, a real hip-hop/ballet/tap/jazz/contemporary, dancer. I dance because its an emotional devotion. I use it as emotional stress relief and a work out. I get to be joyous while I dance, or I get to show my deepest, darkest, inner most, secretest pain ever. The stuff no one talks about, the stuff that is indescribable with words, and only with movements can people truly see how I feel. This past week was “peek week” at the dance studio. The classes instead of being closed doors, are open to parental and friend viewing. Usually this is a great time to show how hard I work to my parents to stay healthy, strong and capable to perform. My mother who dance for her whole youth loves to watch me and my class mates dance, she understands each movements strain and power, she sees each muscle flex and tighten then spring to jump or coil to turn. I love that she knows this. On the depressing side of this phenomenon, my father, who couldn’t be more blind, only sees the mistakes, the miss comings, or the constraints that I have. I might be a dancer, but I have always been naturally inflexible, although I am much better than I was 3 years ago, I am still not jumping into the air with my feet to my ears. Obviously, because I am physically impaired, this means I am not good enough for him. I am just not pretty, perfect, barbie like enough to be a good leaping, bounding dancer for him.
At the beginning of the week, Monday, I gave him a schedule of performances, days, dates, times, places, and details of my life until January. This was to prepare him to know what time to be where and how to be ready. I new it was just my pathetic way of crying to attention from him but I didn’t care. He took the hint (after many arguments). Wednesday was the first class of the week. I have Ballet Contemporary, and Hip hop after. Ballet started at 6. We warmed up or arms, legs, torso, back, neck, hands, feet, knees, ancles, toes, shoulders, and waist. We strengthened our thighs, calves, and abs. Then we danced across the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, spinning, traveling, jumping, twirling. Then we did our actual combination of a song, that at the end of the year, we will perform on stage. It was great. My dad wasn’t there. Finally it was 5 minutes till the end of class, and my dad walks in, I totally mess up my shene, and cant even rande-son and porta-bras. He sits down, and my teacher tells us we are going to do leaps. This is my least perfected dance movement. As you already know, I cant do a split, not like I don’t try or anything, I just havent had the capability to do one yet. I can try to do a leap but it doesn’t look the way it should. So, I leap and I can see my dad head shaking, and he puts his head in his hands, then after I try for the third time he tries to correct me by yelling some type of mangled french words he stole for my teacher. We ignore him.. and class ends.
After that, I went to hiphop and I could tell he hated it, because he just sat there with a disaproving look, and I am actually a really good hip-hop dancer. I learn fast, and can do all the moves properly without falling on my butt. Dance finished and I was angry. I went home disapointed with myself and my dad.
Thursday, is the class I am the best at, Tap dancing. I can do a tap off with anyone. I am super good. We jumped for 2 minutes, thats our warm up, jumping without touching our heals down at different speeds. Then we did out excercizes across the floor, draw back, Cincinati, Buffalo, filaps, shuffles, pull backs.. etc. Then we did time steps and then hop shuffle jump toe turns, which are my favorite. We did our combination to As long as You love me by JB (yeah yeah tease me all you want, its a good song…to tap too.) and then we were done. My dad praised my a lot about this stuff, which is nice he noticed finally how hard I work.
I have a choral performance Monday, its every year, twice a year, once for Christmas, once for spring. He wont be coming, but I don’t care, because it gives me more leeway bring a friend.
Welcome to my bitter sweet suburban life. I am just content I don’t live in a poor aids infested place like Sudan or Libia, better pray for them… It’s horrible to be a woman there.