April 27, 2011

looking glass houses

A mirror seems to tell you the opposite of a truth that isn't a lie. Some things I'll never see exactly right, but thank God it has the mercy to just stop at the surface. If I found myself on the other side, you would meet the me that I know. The one at the seams that keep friends and enemies at arms' length on either side, face to face. Everything is the same, except it happens over and over again-- first one way, and then the opposite, trading places into infinity.

I can look at you from the one side now and it's like I've just met you once more for the first time. I'm polite and too embarrassed to confess the things most dear to me. You never ask anyway, I presume because you don't want to know. We get along much better the less we know. We get along much better in this vaccuum with the imagined reflections of ourselves, the ones who appear to be solitary beings without the burdens of separate lives. I like you much better when your presence is perfectly parallel to mine. We may travel near each other, always at the same distance, and never converge. There's safety and comfort in this science. The science of indifference. 

I've forgotten my manners and eat from your fork. I say her name and I say it wrong and you correct me immediately. But it doesn't matter because I've already decided a while ago that I don't give a shit and I let you know in not so many words.

"Well wouldn't you be annoyed if someone kept saying your name wrong?"
"People do say my name wrong. And it's not like you're going to tell on me, are you?"

I ask you how you feel about her marriage. I remember asking you that before a long time ago, I don't know why I asked you it again, if only to hear something more substantial.

"It's weird for me. I mean, breaking up is one thing but after marriage it's like that window is closed forever."
"Well... yeah."
"Nobody really til death does they part anymore."
"No, they don't."
"And it's not like you were going to get back together anyway."

But what I meant to say was, it's not like you're ever going to get the chance to make things right again. What I meant to say was, it's not like that window was even open to you anyway. It's not like this is real friendship and it's not like I'd prefer it if it was. I'd prefer to have the ability to rub it in, but I don't have the stomach for it. Not after I've long digested the words I was forced to eat. 

I wanted to know if you ever really loved her, but I already guessed the answer. I wanted you to know what you were missing. That it will always hurt and it will always be worth it.
But you can't see behind your own reflection, can you? The opposite of your truth is that you deserve everything you've done for them that makes it worth it to you. 


DJ Berndt said...

I love when you post things like this. Just how auto-biographical is it?

HolyshitiLoveyou said...

Like 100%. I guess everything I write here is.

DJ Berndt said...

Damn, you must have a very interesting life. I suppose that sort of thing happens to rock stars.

HolyshitiLoveyou said...

I mean... things are just weird always.