Sunday, 6 July 2014

Blog 4


I have no idea of what to say to you. 
Absolutely no clue. I'm paralysed.  
But I love you, I know that much.

And It all starts with an idea of 'us'. A knee jerk, a spasm of excitement, a sense that I'm finally in the right place at the right time. I can remember it in my brain, recreate the feeling right now. 

Is this what butterflies feels like? It doesn't feel like butterflies to me. It feels like something far greater, far more beautiful than butterflies. Like when you've over indulged, eaten too much but you fucking enjoyed every, single mouthful. And it sits there in the very depth of your stomach. 

Next thing you're holding hands and the forever lonesome "I" turns to "we", the words stick in the throat initially, find it hard to make their way to the surface but when they do!...  

When they do I'm introvertly singing at the top of my lungs, standing on the street where you live, looking upwards towards that moon you told me about as everyone jostles and shifts around me and but i just really don't care that I'm going to miss the bus. 

"Yeah you might have caught the bus and got home before me but you're missing it!!!" 
You're missing "it"... "It"... Whatever "it" is. 

But we've found it. 

And "it" carries on. And "it" carries and it carries. Carries me, carries you. Carries us to places we'd never seen before, beautiful places but also places we didn't wanna go but we went there anyway. 

And I really hope that's ok because there are some things I will carry and not really forgive myself for. 
And the next thing I know it I'm carrying something that is only ours and it's a shock to my system. A 'smack-me-sideways' shock that I daren't engage with at the time but I swear to you I never missed a meal since that day and I never will. 
It was too precious. And inevitably after too much heavy lifting comes dropping. And the dropping gets heavier. 
I hate the word drop. 

It's so final and shit. Drop a tab, drop a bomb, drop a's all sounds the same. 

Can we not think of it as a 'plop'.
In any case, I like to think of it that way because at least with a plop there's a chance that it'll bob to the surface one day and just float. Find itself. 
Not like a drop. Because like I said its so final and shit.  

I really hope you float. 

I hope to god I float. 
Sometimes it just doesn't feel like I am though and I'm sorry. 

It's like I'm swimming and I'm swimming I've got armbands on and they're this treacherous thing because on the one hand they keep me afloat but on the other I CANT FUCKING MOVE ME FUCKING ARMS!!!! ...DO YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS??? ...ITS SOUL DESTROYING!!!  
Yes yes I checked, check, check, check..All the components are there, they just won't FLOW. Everything's connected to within an inch of its life, the electrical current JUST WONT FLOW. 

What's your armband? I never knew. Is that bad? Was it me? Did I rub off on you like sun cream? Did I drag you down into the wet sand? I have a sneaking suspicion that I may. Made you feel like something your not. But I know you're not.  

I really love you. Always have, always will. 

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