In A Prison of Distance

Is this even real. As I’m sitting here, receiving incoming text messages from some long gone lover who has left and gone a hundred miles up north to “find his soul,” and I haven’t budged in the past month. But all of a sudden this all feels so strange, these surging emotions that ebb and flow at the mercy of these text messages, which read like some sad saga of what the fuck is happening.

That’s what I’d like to know – what the fuck is happening. Why is he gone and why is he saying these things now, when he could have said these things before he left, or he could have just never left. It feels cruel, almost, these bright, little missives between parted lovers, that harken too readily on a past that might never resurface. It’s easy to care from far away. I find that it’s easier to love someone who will never show up at your door at 3 am high and in a rage. It’s easier to tell the truth to someone who can’t fuck your best friend or hit you in the face. There’s a comfort in me saying the things I could never say to him if he were still here, mostly because I’m not brave enough to say those kinds of things. Maybe we are both cowards.

This is why I’m not sure if this is even real. If I could have said those things when he was here, that would be real. Perhaps too real for my own comfort. And he is saying these things that make my heart jump into my throat. He says things about sadness and distance, but I know that if I could add up enough things to say that would make him come back, even if he came back, it would feel different from what I’m feeling now. This is safe. I can tell him he’s the best I ever had with no repercussions. I can talk about love. I think this might be really fucked up.

Why couldn’t I say these things when he was here. And is it the same for him – now that things are over, it’s easy to pretend like what we had was more than what it was? Or is it exactly that. Is this the truth? Have I finally found a way to say the things I didn’t know how to say, and it took a hundred miles between us for me to finally let go? What does any of this mean. Where is this going. How will it end.

The only thing that I know is real are my emotions. All I know is that I am starting to feel in this big, sweeping way these overwhelming emotions that I don’t know how to name, but it is because of him and the things he says to me. Now, more than ever, I crave a touch that has probably disappeared forever. I am rotting inside my own memories of him, and I feeling things in a quiet way, and I am kicking myself, because isn’t this just another ploy that I play on myself in order to be emotionally unavailable to the people who are here, right now? It is so much easier to waste time dreaming about someone who will never come back than to look around at who’s here now.