I’m standing on top of this mountain, and I don’t know how
I got here.
Where I am has always been a mystery to me.
And it’s not the kind of mystery that turns into a novel; my life
story has been anything but literary. These gentle bones
sway in the midnight breeze and shimmer under stars
I’ve never seen before. They are unfamiliar.
Where are you?
Where you are has always been quiet.
Cedar doesn’t smell the way it used to, and pine
never looked so dull as it does tonight.
Tell me I’m doing something right.
I need your permission to howl under an estranged
moon. You are my estranged moon.
You are the protagonist to this story I forgot
how to read.
Some nights I lie awake and wonder where the wonder has gone.
It’s not in you and certainly is not within
me. We are both different now.
You are the light in the night sky;
I, the call answered in dim forest.
We are the stories still going, the wolves at the head
of the pack.
You keep me turning pages.
I really don’t get it. I don’t understand how someone can mean so much to you one day, then walk away like they never knew you the next. You do all these crazy, fun things together. You feel like you can’t live without them. You don’t want to spend a day apart from the person. And then it’s all just memories.
Is it me, or is it you? I’m beginning to think it’s me. But…I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Am I not exciting enough to be around? Am I a mean person? Do I not treat people right? They seem to leave without an explanation; they’re just gone.
It hurts, you know that? It kills me to think that I have a friend, or something more than that only to find out that I really don’t. There is one person in my life who has been here through everything. She is so much more than a best friend, and I really don’t know what I would do with myself if she left, too. But it’s like an unspoken promise between the two of us not to leave each other even if we can’t always hang out or something. We’re tired of the fakers.
I’m lonely, plain and simple. I’ve gotten used to it, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt when I’m out doing things by myself and I see all these people with friends or boyfriends/girlfriends or family with them. I envy these people’s ability to keep people around. How does everyone else find all these people that actually like to stay around? Why can’t I have that? It sucks butt.
That song, “Mean”, by Taylor Swift is running through my mind right now. There are seriously so many people that this song makes me think of, and I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I always hear people say that you have to learn how to make yourself happy before you let anyone else in your life, but it’s really hard to be happy when you’re alone most days. Like I said, it hurts.