notquitesure's Blog

Monday again. I have to see her again. I hope she sees me hurting. I hope she cares.
 
I can’t believe Monday is here again, I really need to see Sky. Separation has always been one of those things we struggle with, and the only thing we struggle with together. He has never really tried to understand why I can’t see him outside of college, too caught up in his own narrow-minded thoughts, I guess. I do love him though.
 
Once, I tried to tell her how I felt. Once. I never did again. She doesn’t understand. Roxy just doesn’t get it; she doesn’t get me. Her with her family and her with her life is so simple. I am complicated. Unlike our relationship. I love her. She loves me. Shouldn’t that mean everything? 
 
He seems to think I have such an easy time, but yet if he was to step back and look at himself, he would see that he is the one who doesn’t have to worry. Except about me, that is. And I worry about him. I worry that he has done it again. He sits there in his room, the shadows outnumbering the light, tears running down his face, completely alone despite his loving family surrounding him and carves an intricate design into his wrist with pen knife. Sky, my Sky, cutting himself. At first I couldn’t believe it, and then when I did, I wished I could be so ignorant again. It is all because of me.
 
Not to Roxy. She manages to screw up everything. She chose her family over me. They hate me and refuse to let us be together and she does absolutely nothing to stop it. She doesn’t fight back. She doesn’t stand up for me. She doesn’t even try to reason. She just lets them walk all over her like the weak, spineless girl she is. I love her so much, but yet if she truly loves me, she would be there for me. But she does her very best to be else where, hiding her true feelings behind a blanket of lies and evasion. And she says I have secrets. My secrets are for her own good, she really doesn’t want to know what goes through my head. I have problems. She has hers. Small as they are. And I am not going to trouble her when she doesn’t care about me.  
 
Sometimes I catch him off guard, hatred burning in his eyes and his fists curling. I know he hates me. But yet he sits there and pours love into my ears. Does he mean any of it? I would love to be sure, but he refuses to talk to me, preferring to pretend that everything is perfect, that we are perfect.
 
I know that English isn’t my first language, but she just doesn’t understand me. She is all up for calm discussion and debates, but she doesn’t really hear me. I don’t think she wants to. It is always ‘Let’s do this rationally’ or ‘Be reasonable and lets discuss it’ or ‘Try to understand my point of view’ or ‘I think we need to talk about the properly’ or ‘If you have a problem please can you just tell me calmly’, but never getting angry and never really understanding. We don’t seem to be going anywhere.
 
So we have college, and that is alright, we can play happy families. But what about the future? He has all these ideas about marriage and a life together, but can I commit to that? I love him, really I do, but his family expect us to spend eternity with each other- they already treat me as one of them- and yet my family don’t know that we are even together and they would be livid if they ever found out. Forget a slap on the wrist or a stern talking to, they would throw me out of the house. No joke. They are big on principle and they would no longer see me as a part of their family. And, unfortunately, there is also a small part of me that doesn’t want to be with him forever. I am independent. And I don’t need him clinging to me all the time.
 
I hold on as tight as I can to her love, but what I really want is so far away that I can no longer see it. I want us to be together. Forever and ever and as long as we have after that. I want to be there to care for her and hold her and protect her, she is so delicate and every time she hurts, I hurt. I am really scared that one day I am going to really harm her. If I stay with her, that is. Roxy is so small and fragile and I get so angry. I have watched her flinch when I punch the wall to make a point or to release anger and I have made her cry by missing her by a finger width. I never mean to hurt her. I never mean to scare her. I just can’t control myself. I love her, but I don’t want to bring up serious issues in case I get angry. It is not worth explaining my problems if I see even a glimpse the terrified look on her face or the way she moves away from me, no longer trusting. And when I see her, all her faults fall away, revealing the perfect, beautiful Roxy I love. She thinks that I should talk when I am calm, but I am calm because every thing seems alright. How, then, could I tell her my problems? If I was to start off calm, I would either speak dispassionately or I would get so annoyed with her misunderstanding and blindness that I would get angry, thus making calm discussion pointless.
 
He says I don’t understand, and yet he never gives me a chance to. He doesn’t talk to me about things that really matter- he says there is nothing wrong- then he goes behind my back and says all these horrible things about me, things which he can’t say to my face. If he was to tell me, I would try to change. I would change for him. If I knew how to, that is.
 
Trust me, I tell her, but she doesn’t listen.
 
Give me a chance, I tell him, but he doesn’t listen. 
 

Here is a poem I wrote a while ago, someone suggested I blog some of my work so here is a start.

The sky was wrong today.
In the darkness and grey,
Of the drizzling rain,
The sky was white.
Pale, beautiful and clear-
Looking startlingly empty-
All the while filled with clouds;
Pouring out their dripping soul.
Depressingly cold,
Setting the mood
For the day-
Was the white sky.
So different
From the dark, falling tears
Out of the watching heavens.
 
My smile was wrong today.
It did not fit
With the weather outside,
I relished the rain,
The feeling of it clinging
To my face;
As I walked with my eyes obscured.
For with the rain,
I could not open them.
Smiling my out of place smile,
Feeling it pulling my features
Naturally.
A real smile for once;
But because of the rain.
 
The sky was wrong today.
It didn’t fit the rain.
The water clashed with the white,
As the murkiness of mud,
And the clearness of froth,
Mix also
Unwillingly and clashing;
But together all the same.
Like my smile.
Which didn’t fit my face,
Which didn’t fit my life,
But fitted with the rain;
So wrong
But yet I liked it.
 

Annalise

  Crouching down on the floor of the dingy alleyway, the snow caught in her untamed, greasy hair, she began to cry. Tears rolled down her sallow, pinched cheeks, the salt stinging the many cuts and bruises lining her jaw. But she couldn’t stop. Two thin, darkened pieces of skin fell apart and came back together as her teeth ripped her lips back and forth; the mottled skin catching and splattering blood down her tattered t-shirt like dirty ink dripping from a broken ink pen. A dead fledgling, she knelt down, her shoulder blades protruding like skinny, deformed wings refusing to let her fly away. Her skeletal body trembled with the bitter cold, but the white snow was barely visible against her peeling, translucent skin. Cruel gusts of wind echoed round the secluded corridor and then, just like her, they were trapped. What was once their goal had destroyed them. Whipping at her shirt, the breeze made it stick to her body showing her ribs, gaunt fingers clutching at her heart, trying to keep it beating. But you could see she had given up. There was no light in her eyes, they were a cloudy grey and dark at the centre; no longer beautiful as her father had once said, but blurry and ruined like everything else. Using one, fragile fingernail, she scratched a single word in the snow. Alone. She stared at it as long she could, but quickly the snow obscured it, as if, like everything else, it didn’t care.