An Attempt At Explaining Something That Can’t Be Explained

Flickr / . Entrer dans le rêve
Flickr / . Entrer dans le rêve

I knew I was in love in Boston. His alarm went off, alerted me to my hangover. The empty bottles were scattered across the hotel room. He rolled over and pulled me closer. Keep sleeping he said. Buried his head into my neck, said I’m going to miss you so much. It was those moments I wanted to believe in, not remembering we were never really together. Not in any sense other than selfish loyalty. I was in it for him. There in the space, in any space we could occupy together.

Five hours earlier painted a different picture. It always seemed to. A stupid fight, neither one of us understanding the argument but both hell bent on winning. A cycle of unwarranted jealously, stuck in an in-between where neither one of us felt safe. Keep sleeping he said, while he got ready for work. I think I’ve only finally woken up.

Sometimes I wonder if we only ever had one conversation. How we didn’t know if it was right. Didn’t know why it felt like nothing else existed but the two of us. Delirious on each other, I can’t remember anything about New York but him. There were parties, I think, museums. I can remember only his hands. His deep breaths when the air conditioning broke and we slept with the windows open. We felt so high above Brooklyn, no barrier between us and the city. No barriers, just us. The selfish things I wanted to last. Forever outside of reality, inside happy with our own.

How do you say I’m sorry for something that can’t be apologized for? When someone is so far removed, a ghost in a matter of seconds. How do you explain something when the person won’t understand? How do you show someone who no longer wants to look? There is no master class to this, just choices that can’t be changed. A place far past forgiveness, a place that doesn’t even remain at all. They keep saying, give it time. Give it time. What time is there to give when it just fades into nonexistence? Maybe it’s the consequence. Losing, for once, the only thing that mattered.

This isn’t anything but confusion. An apology isn’t enough, nothing might be. Here, please know that I love you. That these strings and mistakes were because I was trying to figure out who I was. Who we were. How our pieces fit together, even though the edges were missing. Hidden in a dream of what I wanted, mind always miles away. Hands miles away, in hotels and tiny apartments. TC mark

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