I have been absent from doing any blog entry for a long time! With recent changes in my life, I feel my writing has received a boon! I'll post some of my stuff later. Below is a nice piece by a friend, Alex from El Salvador, of a friend, Susi from Germany. The writing, the style of it, really resonated with me as did her other pieces that Susi shared with me. I only made some minor changes, to make it flow better (in my opinion). I also added the last paragraph, as the piece seemed needing to be completed. Most of the writing and thoughts though is Alex's creation. Happy reading.
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I went on a date last night and then you texted and asked again when I would come over. You asked when we can start our days with coffee and end with you making dinner. Forever I feel myself tug towards you; and then I remember why it will always be no with you and me.
There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.
They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brother dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won't know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They will miss the scar on your finger too, from when you were seven and closed a Swiss army blade on it. They won't understand these are two of only a handfull of things you can remember about your childhood. They will notice that you have great tits, but they will miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you are walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won't get to know your migraines. They won't ask where the story you wrote came from, so they will never know it was true. They will love it because it feels real to them. They will miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them one of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.
They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won't ever consider you strong.
When the parts that are your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours while their iris burnt. They will silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. They say to you: "Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things."
And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You don't share your most crazy ideas, inner thoughts with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.
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In between passages, in between people, you think of me, you remember of me. You wonder why you chase those that don't cherish your deep, striking, sometimes dark, beauty. You wonder why, despite my cherishing of that beauty in you, despite your love for me, you don't come to me. I don't know why you don't. I, too, wonder why and wonder what marvel, what tapestry, what epic we could've created together. But then you move on and I cry on. So, when I get your text asking if there's an evening of you and me, I remember the broken promises. I remember me longing for your parts that no one cared for. And I remember how the last time went, with me begging from you those parts of yours and you hiding those parts from me just out of habit. I remember all these. And I remember why it will always be no with you and me.
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