I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

Sometimes People Leave.

What a difference a few days can make!

I read my last post and it is so far from what I feel now. The next morning, a few people came to me at once. Each of these people reminded me that I mean something to them in some way. It gave me exactly what I needed. It made me feel important. It showed me that I need to stay.

But sometimes people leave…

and that’s okay.

They may run. They may stomp. They may fade. Sometimes they are even taken.

But it’s okay.

It’s okay because they were there. Because, for one wonderful moment, your lives intertwined. They made their mark and you get to carry that piece of them with you.

And yeah, sometimes it hurts… but how beautiful is that?! That pain can only come from feeling a happiness so intensely. This person shone so brightly that it made you fear the dark. It’s incredible! It’s this magic that each of us has within us, that both unites us and shows how unique each of us are. It’s heaven.

So, don’t be afraid to wear your heart on your sleeve. Vulnerability isn’t weakness, it’s truth. It takes courage and strength to make your true self known. There will be people who do not approve, who choose to make their exit quickly, but that is fine. Their marks would only hurt you. Instead, you get to focus on the others.

They are the ones who love you.

They are the ones who stay.

Numb?

Ever since I was young, I had a switch that I could flip in case of emergency. This switch took emotion out of the situation. No matter how much worse things became, I didn’t feel it. I was detached, cold, numb. This allowed me to do whatever was needed, in order to survive. Those who knew me well, could tell I was not myself. I faked it well for those who did not.

At 16, this detached version of me received a name: Roxy Jones. Roxy was seen as mysterious, intriguing. She was daring, as she felt no fear. She also felt nothing for those who grew infatuated, so it was common to see a trail of heartbreak behind her.

While this emotionless state was definitely useful, it also had its consequences. Without heart involved, it was easy to dismiss others. This could include ignoring them for any length of time, bluntly expressing indifference, and/or cutting ties with no explanation. Any action that best suited the current needs was quickly taken, without regard for others or even my own future emotions.

She smiled, but there was no warmth. She fought with unmatched strength and determination. She had a goal and would attain it, no matter the cost.

It could also become extremely difficult to come back from. Though it was known what emotion should be felt at any given moment, it was not quite felt. Using music and other passions, there would be constant attempts to summon true emotion. Usually these methods would at least cause a wanting for emotion. Eventually, something would get through to me and I would slowly come back to Life.

She saw the world as it was; a list of necessities and rules for gaining them. In memories, feelings were seen only as insignificant details. She knew, however, that I was still within her; watching, readying myself for my return. It was her duty to protect me, but she knew I would never lie dormant for long. Even when she resisted, attempted to suppress me, a loved one would reach me and I would pull myself out.

The most recent time this switch was flipped, it was more desperately needed than ever, more control was given over, and it lasted longer. Without the support of another, I alone had to bring myself back to Life. The struggle was lengthy and felt impossible, but I refused to be defeated.

She reminded me that I was alone. She reminded me that the world was painful. She made me wonder if I could make it on my own. I met each of her negative reminders with one of beauty. The joy was enough motivation. The passion for Life was still within me.

A few days ago, the world began to bury me once again. This time, I decided, I would be prepared. I asked my dearest friend to contact me after some time, to help inspire my return. I informed others that I would be absent for a while, to limit contact and so prevent negative social consequences. Then, I stepped back, relinquished control.

Only… This feels different. I have distanced myself, but do not feel truly disconnected. I cannot detach. I still possess control. Emotions, though quieter, are still felt. Others’ are still considered.

She’s gone. She’s really gone. It’s all on me now.

From now on, I’ll have to fight for myself.

Silence

I’ve not had much to say as of late. I have mostly been searching through the silence. I had surrounded myself with noise for so long, so I’d not have to see what lies in front of me.

I am reducing the clutter, so I can see what is important. It is not easy… I have held on to these for so long, it is difficult to accept that none of this amounted to anything. I know, though, that it is all weighing me down. How much more will I give to something that is never to be?

It is time.

It is time to make room for something real.

It is time to embrace the silence, so I can welcome something meaningful.

And I wish for help, someone to hold me accountable. I wish for caring sternness, so I will not falter. I know that I cannot have this, not yet. I must find all within before I can find it without. This knowledge is accompanied by fear, guilt, and overwhelming self doubt. Even so, I will fight on.

I may fail. I will fail. That will not stop me. As long as I can find the silence, I still have hope.

One day, I will not be alone in the silence. On that day, I will finally win.

Dear ‘Digo,

Obviously, you will never read this, being a cat… but there’s something about just getting things out into the universe. It feels right.

I’m sorry for all you’ve been through. I don’t know much about it, but I know you were returned to the rescue twice before we met. Then you chose us, when we weren’t even looking for a cat. Everything about it felt like it was meant to be. We understood each other.

We’ve had a lot of rough times, but we stuck it out together. 4 years, 3 states, 3 relationships, lost all my friends and family, got diagnosed with multiple severe conditions, you got diagnosed with one, but we still were together. You’ve always been exactly what I needed, when I needed it. I trusted in you, let you have your own adventures. We had our beautiful moments, just the two of us.

Hard times came and I had to let someone else take care of you for a bit. But she didn’t do a very good job, did she? I don’t know all of it, but I know enough to never speak to her again.

And then we found someone who was good to you for a bit. That was great. You loved her, even though you don’t love anybody but me.

Then we came here. We were finally together again. And now you’re missing.

What happened? You have always been good out there, and I tried to limit your time. I tried to find a balance between letting you have freedom and keeping you safe. You’re so much like me… You can’t stand to be locked away. And you always listen, always come home when called. Always. Except on Saturday.

Where are you? Are you lost? Hurt? Did someone take you in? I know you would never leave me purposely. I just wish I knew you were okay.

I’m sorry for the things I should have done better. I’m sorry for the times we were apart, and for not giving you what you deserved while together. I’m sorry that it was taking me so long to gather money for your surgery. I was trying. I tried to make the smart choices. I will do better.

I’m sure that hope was hard during the times when we were apart. I’m sure there was a feeling that I would never return. But I did. And even though it feels like you’re gone forever, I have to believe you will return to me, too. I won’t give up on you.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe. I miss you. I can’t stop crying. You are a huge part of me that is suddenly missing, without explanation, and it kills me. I think I see you sometimes. Or hear you. But it’s only wishful thinking. I wish I had a sign of where you are, or whether you’re okay. I wish… really, I just wish you’d find your way home to me.

I love you. I need you. Please come home.