Since She Left

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Death Cab For Cutie - Lightness

We once had an argument. We were engaged to be married, but she wanted a tattoo. We couldn’t afford it. We broken up, eventually. A few weeks later she got Lightness tattooed on her wrist.

It still hurts to listen to this song.

Ivory Lines Lead.

I mean, yeah. We’d argue. We’d fight over some stupid shit. Like some bitch texting my phone, but I was never a liar, I never cheated.

But yeah, shit would get ugly, and it sucked. She’d overreact to something and just go off. Like she didn’t have control. After, sure we’d have amazing sex. I never told her this but she was the best I’d ever had. She made this little noise when she was close, like a gasp, but also a grunt, it was amazing, I don’t know how I controlled myself, but I did.

I never loved anyone like I loved her. Even after we split and I started dating some fucking girl from ΑΧΩ, and we’d be out to breakfast at some fucking cafe, me hung the fuck over and I’d look up, and there she was, standing at the sign that says, “Please wait to be seated” and she looked right through me, Into me, really. I knew that she’d seen right into my soul, and I hated her for it, I hated myself for it. I still don’t know how to express all of my regret.

But, fuck, I also didn’t know how to express what I felt for her. And, you know, I’m pretty sure she didn’t know how to accept it.

We drank, that’s what we were good at. We always had so many adventures, and alcohol was always included. We were allowed to live like that. When you’re a young twenty something you’re supposed to drink. He could outdrink anyone and I’d do my best to keep up.

Since that night we both got drunk and ended up getting in a fight with each other we never really were the same again. I’m not talking about a verbal ‘asshole’, ‘bitch’ fight. I’m saying there were punches thrown, on both sides. I had a bruise on my hips from where he pushed me down, he had a scratch on his arm from my nails. No matter how much we hated each other at that moment, all he had to do was kiss me and the fight itself was over. It just turned in to really amazing angry sex afterwards. The next morning neither of us could remember what we fought about, just that we didn’t end up killing each other. We didn’t make it much longer after that.

I saw him for the first time in a long time a couple weeks ago. He was with this girl I didn’t recognize at the little urban antique store/cafe downtown. It was weird. I was fucking happy for them, and I hated myself for it. I saw that they were both happy and they really liked each other. It just made me so happy to see that he was happy…and I just hated the fact I was happy about that. No matter how hard it was for me to leave him, it needed to happen. We were awful for each other.

See I don’t think you’ve ever been treated. You’ve been lusted after, chased, given ultimatums, pinched, poked, prodded and partitioned. But, you’ve never been treated, taken out, treasured, toppled with flowers that flow over you while you sit in a chair where you’re comfortable, and content and I don’t know that you’ve been held and honored and hoped for. You’ve never been someone’s dream. You’ve had your pick, you’ve parties, playacted, and put off. But you’ve never been treated. Your fair white skin has never been touched like it deserves to be touched, that dare I say delicate skin deserved to be touch in such a sensual way that even Sophocles would do well to write you into a beautiful tragedy.

You’ve been trying, but have you ever been treated?

Every sunday we would lie together. We’d be nursing our hangovers from the night before with a orange juice and just a bit of vodka to hurry the process. It was in the time before our lifestyle got to be a little out of control, before the drug use got to be a little more then strictly recreational; before the fighting. But we’d just lie there holding each other and smoking the occasional cigarette and dozing off from time to time. I don’t think you could really call us lovers, just friends who happened to fuck on a regular basis. I never thought I was quite good enough because he would tend to have a wandering eye. But we were comfortable, and it worked for awhile. Eventually, I just had to leave. It wasn’t the romance I needed, he wasn’t the one.

Since She Left

So a few months ago I decided to start a blog where I could just piss and moan, without, you know, really disrupting all of my followers on my tumblr. Well, as time went on, I started to take it more and more seriously, and as I think the writing got better, I started getting more followers and then I really started writing it from the (broken)heart.

Today is really cool, because I’d like to tell you all that it took Rebecca Rae very little effort in convincing me that her and I should collaborate on this blog. She asked and I said yes.

From now on, it’ll still be written very much in the style you’ve grown to love, but with a fresh perspective, from a really sharp and insightful lady.

Thank you all so much for following, it’s means a whole lot. Especially for a guy like me who puts his whole heart on the line, out there to be read, for better or for worse.

Oh, and if you don’t follow Rebecca, you should.

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Owen - In The Morning, Before Work

A while ago, my buddy lived with me in my house and his girlfriend lived there too, my girlfriend also lived with me. It was the the four of us. It was nice. Only problem was that even though I loved my girlfriend, and eventually lamented her leaving, I was also really basically, pretty much, you know, in love with my pal’s girlfriend. Yes, I do believe that you can be in love with two people at the same time. The key to that is that both people have something completely different to offer.

Anyway, I went to work every day at 4am, and I’d be home by 1pm, and my pal’s girlfriend would just be finishing class by then, and I’d be home, and crawling into bed, and I always just imagined her sliding into my bed for an early afternoon nap. This song was also on my ipod in heavy rotation while I was at work.

Still to this day, when I hear this song I think of her, and what wasn’t and what might have been, and it’s cool. I’m not bummed about it. Some people never really leave your mind, even after you’ve both moved on.

I sleep in these dirty sheets

A blanket between my boney knees

But you already know that because you used to crawl in bed with me

in the morning before work

She looks so sweet, I know. But man, I should have know better.

From day one, when she got dumped on valentines day and we started dating shortly thereafter. From the time we fucked ALL NIGHT (6 times for me, you know for reference) at her parent’s house, with just the pocket door slid closed, no lock.

From the day she moved in to my place and didn’t help unpack. I should have known better.

We got engaged. Fucking engaged. And still, I was totally blinded by the light. Because when she was on, she was fucking on. She could do things for me that I never knew were possible. Then shit hit the fan, and she moved to Seattle (where she could wear a beanie everyday, undoubtedly) and moved in with some metro dude, I was baffled.

Now she’s moved back to town, and I’m terrified that I’ll run into her, which I will. Why? Why you ask? Because she “was the one”, at that time in my life. It hasn’t even been two years, and I’m terrified that I’ll see her and still have all those feelings for her, that I’ll say we should go for coffee, and go back to my mother’s house, which is empty aside from two beds, and we’d fuck like the old times, and then we’d be back together. She’s just as good as that fucking heroin that used to find it’s way into my nose, and other randomly placed holes in my body.

I think it’s because she completely knows how to manipulate people, in such a way that everyone loves her, and they’ll do anything for her. Well maybe I still love her, maybe I still love them all, but this one is different. I’ve never felt like such a fucking stud around here, never felt so good, yet so scared of losing her. Which is probably why I lost her.

I should know better.

(photo via poladroidfreakteam)

Hi, remember me? Oh, no? Well, I remember you. We met when I was 13, you came into my house every Wednesday or so and then, remember you were in all of my teenage dreams at night? How… could you forget me?

Remember, I got a computer and printed your photo on that inkjet and hung it above my bed, like the Catholics hang a photo of Mary. I would look up at you each night and think, “Christ, that Jordan- he doesn’t get you like I get you.”

Then you got involved with that guy, Ben Lee, and I threw away all the cd’s I owned that were recorded by australian artists. I didn’t like Silverchair much anyway.

I just don’t know how you could be such a big part of my life, Claire and still I’m not on your radar.

Well, I hope you read this, and email me or something, because I think at least you owe me that.

Forever,

Michael Waskom

(photo via leslieeekirchhoff)

I’m not going to pull any punches here, the internet’s full of enough of that shit. We both had drug problems. The kind from South America, and it was getting bad, so we got out of town. Her grandmother had passed, and had left her family this old summer place up on this hill, that overlooked a lake and we borrowed a car and drove up.

The place was completely empty besides a bed with just sheets and some hangers in the closet. Now I mention that we went away to get away from all the drugs, but really we went away to get our heads clear, to decide how we were going to pay back all the money we owed. I had already sold my books, two guitars and she got rid of her sewing machine and a bunch of clothes, but it still wasn’t enough, because it was never fucking enough.

We had managed to keep enough shit left over after the drive to maybe keep us high for two days, and after that I don’t know what the fuck she’d do.

But, you know we did our best, and tried to stay civil to each other, but it didn’t matter. I knew it as soon as we got out of the car I knew this was the beginning of the end of our relationship, and I guess she knew too. Because the whole time I thought she was looking out the window, praying that our dealer wouldn’t drive up, looking to collect, I realized that she was actually looking for him to pick her up. Because on the second afternoon I woke up from a nap, and she was gone. Just a note remained.

Michael,

Jon’s picked me up. I’ve bought our debt. Don’t call or try to find me. I’m with him now. You were fun and nice, but I have to do what’s best for me.

Love,

Taylor.