Now or later. Say or fuck up. Shut up or still fuck up. To go or not to go. This way or that. Make a call or not. Patron or Upper B. Roam around the bush or prolong the agony. Confess or get caught. Flats or heels. Write or sleep. Disappoint or be disappointed. Love or eat. Play around or be boring. Quit or perish.
I. Writing about you is like displacing a pendulum.
It swings back and forth, releases me freely, but never gets me anywhere. It is the same equilibrium position of woe.
II. My job does it work perfectly–to interrupt interruptions and to fill in incessant chances of remembering. Also, to keep me busy when I have thought of everything else and all that was ever left was you.
III. I bought a pair of open-toed wedges today. Ashen blue. Three inches. With a skinny leather strap that is supposed to hold me back from falling.
I tried it on tonight. I slipped four times; glided on the fifth.
Armed with a blister and a quench for revenge, I plan to be pretty. I plan to be pretty for you.
IV. I told you, you could have reciprocated.
Anong petsa na ganito pa rin tayo.
“She stuck a bookmark
in my heart
and walked away.”
Saul Williams, “She”
It baffles me how you manage to walk in and out of my life like nothing happens. Like nothing happened.
But my high tolerance for pain, sleepless nights, and constant neglect amazes me just as much.