Please don’t be a season

Please don’t be a season.

Don’t be a fallen leaf in Autumn that slowly dies as it hits the pavement.

Don’t be the touch of snow on skin that quickly melts away in Winter.

Don’t be the rainbow after rain, hiding behind clouds of grey in Spring.

Don’t be warm beach days, fresh green grass and bright sunny rays that pass by as quickly as time does in the Summer.

You’re not allowed to come in and out of my life like the weather.

I want you for years to come.

I want you like the comfort of sitting down after every long day, knowing it’s a luxury whether on the floor or a coushioned chair.

I want you like the tattoo on the bottom of my neck, wearing out from too much sun exposure, but always holding meaning within my skin.

I want you like the memories written in books passed down for generations– causing stories to be diluted, but still partaking in history.

I want you like all of my body, maybe growing weaker as I get older, but always remaining, always trying, still working after so much vulnerability.

You are not just a season to me, you are a year. A year full of life, memories, sunshine, rainy days, snow fall and golden brown leaves on the ground.

Please don’t just be another season.

Only human

I realized what he meant, by feeling as if you’re a ghost in that environment. The music was blaring, the heat heavy and the crowd growing. You become so consumed by the addicting noise streaming through your ears and the weightless atmosphere brought on by multiple drinks that you become completely unrecognizable–not only to others, but to yourself. At least, that’s how it seemed when I glanced over at him that night. His head banging to the bass of the music and feet sliding back and forth to the rhythm. I smiled slightly, only because he looked so content at his ability to escape.

A group of girls stood next to him looking at him in curiosity, but he had no recognition of them at all. His eyes were completely empty, his face expressionless. He had become a ghost. And then he even disappeared like one, running off into the crowd. I stood on my toes, trying to catch sight of his hat in the sea of people, but couldn’t find him.

“What the fuck?” I looked over at my friend, who simply shrugged, unamused with the disappearing act. He focused his attention back to the stage and continued dancing. I tried. I tried hard to just focus on the music, to fucking disappear myself, but I felt everything. I felt my heart dropping and shoulders shrinking. I felt any movement of dancing that I attempted was useless and utterly vacant. A paranormal figure wouldn’t feel as much as I did in that moment. I sure as hell knew he wasn’t feeling the way I did.

He disappeared, and I stayed so clearly visible. Both my friends and the crowd sensing every movement, every turn of my head as I looked around for him. The mood between us collapsed completely, unable to be rebuilt by the vodka running through my veins or the music pouring out of the speakers surrounding us. This was one thing that music couldn’t possibly fix, because I knew it wasn’t going to be a good night and once you get that into your head it’s impossible to escape it. Once that feeling becomes conscious, there’s no way of preparing some sort of Houdini act to get rid of it.

So, we left early without a trace of him and headed towards the hotel room. My heart was thumping so loud it could’ve burst out of my chest at any moment. The thing was, I knew something bad was going to happen. I felt it deep down in the pit of my stomach that remained uneasy ever since getting in the front seat of his car the first time he took me out. I had this hideous feeling that he was going to end up hurting me. Yet, I still sat next to him in that seat comfortably. I laid in his bed willingly, opened up to him hesitantly and handed over my heart reluctantly. I thought that even though he may hurt me, I was strong enough to take on whatever he could throw at me. But, when I saw him laying down next to another girl, his arms wrapped around her tightly in the hotel bed, I knew I was wrong to ever feel that comfortable. I knew I was wrong to ever get into that fucking car of his.

You may feel like a ghost–like you are untouchable, empty, hollow and unseen, but you’re not. You’re human and you are seen. You’re false words are heard, brief touch is felt and guilty acts are watched. The loud music, chaotic crowd and double shots of whiskey don’t cover up shit.

 

Me, Myself and I

I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyeliner fading from the 8 hour work day. I pull out the black pencil from my purse and use it the darken the lines. They shape perfectly around the course of my eye lid and flip up on each side to create a wing. The darker, the better. It distracted from how tired my eyes looked and if I had makeup on, it gave me yet another reason not to cry as I got through the night.

“You going out tonight?” My co worker looks me up and down as I continue fixing my face.

“Yea,” I sigh, finally putting down the eyeliner to take a good look at my attempt.

“Where to?” She continues to pry and I try not to scowl.

“I don’t know,” I lie through my teeth, throwing all the makeup I had spread about on the bathroom’s counter back into my purse. We’d both just got off of our shift and she tended to follow me out every time. I think she liked me, but I couldn’t tell you why. Every time she asked me a question I’d try my hardest to brush her off. I didn’t need friends. That’s not what I came to work for. I need money and answering her annoying questions isn’t going to get me any.

“Oh,” She stalls, grabbing onto the purse that’s hanging by her side, “Well, you’re working tomorrow aren’t you?”

“Yeap,” I finally close my bag and throw it onto my shoulder, “See you in the morning.”

I closed my eyes before grabbing onto the bathroom door handle and pushing onto it, freeing me from the confinement of her awkward imposition. Letting the door shut behind me, I rushed out to make my way to the parking lot. Without looking back, I hear the door slowly open again from behind me. I felt bad, but wasn’t I making it obvious that I didn’t want her hanging around me?

I can’t understand people like that, fucking needy. I was needy once and wanting of what I couldn’t have. Maybe I do understand. It’s an instinctual feeling, because of our social upbringings. We were once just animals trying to survive by finding our pack. Hunting in groups and forming families to avoid isolation. It was for safety.

I’ve felt like I needed someone before, until I realized that this feeling was just that. It was just a feeling. In modern society, shit has changed. People aren’t all looking for packs or friends or even a romantic partner. We have to manage to look out for ourselves and ourselves only. I could spend my whole life finding other people who could potentially be there for me, only to have them leave me stranded in a field surrounded by tigers hungry to chew on my flesh.

Today, we can’t be listening to our outdated biological triggers. You want a friend? You feel lonely, isolated, sad? Find something that’s constant, because people aren’t. I’ve decided my efforts are going towards a pursuit that wouldn’t abandon me. Money is constant. It doesn’t abandon me unless I choose to spend it on some new shoes.

Stop looking for people. Stop chasing people. They get swept away by life events as easy as paper does in the wind. The only person rooted down into the ground in your life is you. So, start investing time in growing trees to make your own paper instead of assuming your roommate will have some extra for you in her printer.