Anundiscoveredelement - Vorher Und Nachher - Tumblr Blog

Once, when I was 21, I begged my roommate to leave her boyfriend. I considered us sisters and no matter how angry she could make me or how annoyed I could be I decided I would love her.

It's always hard to realize that is not always enough.

I begged her to leave her boyfriend and she would almost do it so many times and then the next day would come around and no matter what vile things he said to her she would forgive him and they would move on.

On Halloween, I heard him screaming at her over the phone from across the room. All the roommates spent the whole night keeping her from her pain until we found ourselves huddled in front of our dorm tv with smeared makeup and popcorn.

He knocked on the door and I don't know why but I answered, I have always been the mediator. He was huffing and puffing through the crack I gave him to see me. At first, I thought he was worried about her, until the utter hatred in his eyes landed on me.

We all begged her to break up with him after that. Three girls crying on the floor as she shook in our arms.

Halloween never ended well for me and that night only told me it could get worse after he slammed the door open so hard our wall had a dent in it, ripping it from my fingers and all of his 6 foot mass launched my 5'5 figure into our fridge.

We begged her to break up with him after I spent an hour of my life with my finger over the call dial for campus police and watched him scream at her and me and my other roommate. He knew we didn't like him.

My one roommate called him a piece of shit and I have never been more afraid than when I thought he would hit her.

My other roommate sat paralyzed in her chair watching the scene unfold and I waited.

I waited for his hatred to turn back on me again as he screamed at his girlfriend.

That night we thought it was over. And that morning we thought it was over.

We didn't even make it 24 hours until she came home and told me and my roommate that she couldn't listen to our opinions anymore. She understood, wasn't sorry, understood, that he threw me into the fridge, he would never step foot in our dorm again. She promised.

And I felt my love die. Shrivel up in my chest.

Because, that night, if I had to, I would have killed him for her, I would have fought him with everything in me if he even tried to touch her.

But she couldn't give me the same in return.

Countless time she told me she wasn't in love with him. She was just afraid of being alone.

Fear of being alone.

That was worth how he threw me into our fridge.

That was worth how he left her three roommates in tears.

That was worth how he left her shaking while I held her.

Fear of being alone.

Just because you love someone doesn't mean you can save them.

-beyond one problem and onto another, October 2023

(s.m.)

I'm so tired of being left on the other side of the glass. Looking in. Or looking out, like behind a set of bars, like a convinct unaware of the crime I commited.

Im so tired of caring with my whole being only to watch people leave my heart in the back of their bottom desk drawer to collect dust.

I am like a grain of sand falling through their fingers, nameless among the masses even thought I could have sorted them from amongst the dunes.

What have I done to be cursed in such a way? Two weddings forgotten and countless parties and every meal and all the things I did and they never did and I am stuck here.

Wondering,

Begging. To know.

Why does no one remember my name?

-beyond one thing and onto another, October 2023

(s.m.)

It was your birthday today.

It took me all day to notice, to realize.

And for the first time after deleting the texts between us I clicked on your name.

"Happy birthday, you can now sing Taylor Swift's 22. I hope you are doing well."

God, I hope I don't live to regret that.

-Beyond, October 2023

(s.m.)

Sitting in the front seat of the car, on one of the many days I have cried about you.

Mama said that sisterhood is a complicated road and right now, to see, that if we cannot be sisters, we can be friends.

I told her how terrible of a thing that is. Because, if we were strangers, passing by on the sidewalk. I said,

"I wouldn't want to be her friend."

I would have just kept walking.

- beyond one thing and onto another, October 2023

(s.m.)

So long I have held my tongue for you I think I am beginning to choke on it.

My chest is caving in with those things that are left unsaid, always unsaid. You strike at me, oh do you strike at me.

I let your palm hit my cheek and feel the blood drip down my chin. There is a tange in my mouth. There is always a tange in my mouth as I bite through the soft flesh of my tongue for you.

Over, and over, until my nerves are raw and frayed and tangling inside my limbs.

How odd to feel so raw and so numb all at once.

We used to say God made us sisters because he was simply unable to keep us apart. Now, I think its because he knew it was the only way I would love you.

But what about me? Did he not regard me? I am cursed to love you while I am stuck in the grave of knowing even with our shared blood, you are incapable of loving me back.

-beyond one thing and onto another, October 2023

(s.m.)

I changed my hair.

I cut my bangs and the strands clogged the drain in the sink as I cut you out of me.

How afraid you would have been. Of change. Of me.

How afraid you were of my slightest hitching of breath and how you smothered me. You cast me in wax and iced me so I would never melt, the perfect image, never changing, always static.

But I am a hurricane, and I don't need your approval, and I realized that as my hair fell from my brow. I lit the building on fire and the wax melted right off.

And now.

Oh, if you could see me now.

You would weep, for your fear kept at bay something so great, something so beautiful, you would fall to your knees.

How your fear cost you so much.

What a tragedy, but it's not mine.

-Beyond, October 2023

(s.m.)

I kissed another boy last night and he told me I was the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. My name rolled off his tongue in its own unique blend of vowels and consonants.

He twirled one of my curls around his finger like it was a form of prayer and I opened the door of his life story with a smile and a drink.

He tried to teach me spanish but all he taught me was how to say my name and that I am a gorgeous girl. He tried to show me how to roll my r's and when I butchered it he told me I did well even though I wasn't even remotely close.

He made me say it again to him for the rest of the night. Moi bonita. While his lips trailed down my neck he quizzed me again and the words tumbled out of my mouth in a breathy whisper.

I asked him if he would like to move back to where he was born and he said no.

"Why don't you like where you're from?"

"It doesn't have girls that look like you."

-Beyond, September 2023

(s.m.)

Old habits die hard and I still find myself touching the pad of my thumb against the junction of my ring finger to fiddle with a ghost. I wonder, if everyone else, too, can see the slight crease of my skin where it used to sit. Or maybe that scar is something that only I can see.

-Beyond? September 2023

(s.m.)

It's infuriating how such a simple moment can turn sour. It's infuriating how I can hear your name without flinching, read your words with indifference, stare you straight in the face and not crumble but in those odd moments, a song will come on and I will remember how our voices sounded together as we sang it, your hand on my thigh as I sit in the passenger seat. How I would run my fingers over the hair at the nape of your neck while you drove.

I can take you in battle but sometimes life finds the small chinks in my armor: that one right where my shoulder meets my arm, and suddenly im bleeding all over the floor.

-Beyond?, September 2023

(s.m.)

I texted a boy today. I did my hair and deepened my eyes and put myself in the perfect lighting with a cute witty opener.

"Hey Mr. Archeology, dig up anything cool today?"

And not during any step of the process did I think about you. Even if Mr. Archeology never answers me back I hope he knows how thankful I am for giving me the opportunity, however brief, to see that some parts of me are beyond you.

-Beyond, September 2023

(s.m.)

I know it is my father's first time on this Earth, too. And I know He had it worse when he was little.

But I was little too.

— Franz Kafka, from letters to his father

I just realized this doesn't mean the pain isn't there somewhere if you dig deep enough. Another man's lips won't erase the times yours touched mine and no matter how big I smile it won't erase the times I smiled for you. Endings are simply unfair. But that gnawing, that wondering, that regret I felt, I think it's gone. Or, at least, it walked out the door for a while.

-Beyond?, September 2023

(s.m.)

When I cried over you for the millionth time a friend told me that one day you wouldn't cross my mind--that I wouldn't know why, and I wouldn't realize it then, but I would look back and you would be gone.

I don't know when in the last couple days something shifted but you haven't crossed my mind once. Somewhere in the space between I now, feel, nothing.

-Beyond, September 2023

(s.m.)

Anton Chekhov, "after the theatre"

When I cried over you for the millionth time a friend told me that one day you wouldn't cross my mind--that I wouldn't know why, and I wouldn't realize it then, but I would look back and you would be gone.

I don't know when in the last couple days something shifted but you haven't crossed my mind once. Somewhere in the space between I now, feel, nothing.

-Beyond, September 2023

(s.m.)

There was a strict dichotomy between the car ride to the bar and the car ride back. The kind of dichotomy that, if told, would leave the two girls on the ride there with only one response, and in the strongest sense of the word, bullshit.

-Beyond, September 2023

(s.m.)

Fucking boundary breaker

That's all I have to say. I am not feeling rather poetic.

-After, September 2023

(s.m.)

I looked over my roommate's shoulder today on accident. It was just an instinctual glance as she tapped her phone.

The screen lit up and there at the top in bright bold letters was "i miss you so much right now" and I had never felt more relieved to not have someone miss me.

My chest started to cave in on itself and then I looked around and took a breath and realized there was no one around who cared. I was free.

-After, August 2023

(s.m.)

Tonight, I finally admitted you had me afraid. That last night as the words poured from your mouth, I was afraid of you. How terrible, to not only lose love but safety.

A very wise women said to me that there is no such thing as closure. She was right, there is only an end and often it is ugly.

-After, August 2023

(s.m.)

August 18, 1929 Journals of Anais Nin 1927-1931 [volume 4]

So often, I find my fingers reaching for you. Thumb paused over my phone screen, on any thread I left open, a small bridge. I sit there and I wait, staring, until I lose the nerve or gain the courage. A failure and a success.

Edit:

Less often, I find my finger reaching for you. My thumb no longer hovers over my phone screen, I cut all the threads, and the bridge sits crumbled and abandoned. I no longer sit there and wait, and when you do cross my mind I watch the thought flit away as fast as it came. My courage is present, and I think I will always be both a failure and a success in whatever way I choose to define the stakes.

-After, July 2023

(s.m.)

We used to count the ways we had been together in chunks of time: the halfway point to engagement, the halfway point to the halfway point to our engagement, when we will have been together longer than we had been alive without each other.

Will I remember one day, when I will have been without you longer than I had been with you? That my distance from you is longer than the length of us. That seems so far away.

-After, August 2023

(s.m.)

I looked at the stars tonight. I lay splayed open on the porch table, bathed in starlight and sticky with dew. I had to towel off the surface before I layed down but there was still a layer of dampness that stuck to me even through the thin blanket I wrapped around myself.

As I looked up, I constantly tugged on the edges of the blanket to cling to my curves but it kept rolling down and soon enough I stopped trying as the stars watched me and the cold air swept across my flesh.

I watched one shooting star go by, and then two, and then three, and more. One blazed across the heavens like a great ball of fire and sparks streaked in its wake, hanging there, in the sky, for a few seconds before fizzling out.

You crossed my mind multiple times. The imprint of you is still there and looking into that vast and bejeweled abyss I saw my own reflection and those things that haunt my eyes, like when your friends came over to my house and we lay in a pile on my porch stargazing even though the full moon made it hard to see. Or that time we lay under the stars in my ball dress and you told me you were sorry this wasn't going to last forever.

A slow sadness crept in when I felt antsy to go back inside. Before, nothing could take me from looking up at our speckled universe but I have been out of the habit so long. All I can feel is every time I got out of the car and I looked up and gasped. I would stare with my neck craned backwards and want to sit there forever, and I would have, until every time you grabbed my hand and hauled me inside and your future promise of stargazing was never answered.

You robbed me of my greatest love and I am still clawing to get it back and I don't understand how you ever thought a girl with stars in her blood should be hauled back inside like an escaped convict while rolling your eyes. Why did I let you, why didn't I fight you? Oh, why did you have to smother me?

The sky does not smother me, the air does not fight me, and those glittering stars kiss me with a love of which you were never capable.

-After, August 2023

(s.m.)