Friday, March 30, 2012

No Goodbyes For Spooky Oats

Someday, a few years down the line, I'm going to cross your mind and you're going to try to convince yourself it's too late and it may be for some things, but it isn't for everything. It isn't for things like Hawaiian flowers and serendipity and believing in seagulls of light. It isn't for little boy dreams and Peter Pan and Wendy and swanky hotels in Prague where you take notes while I talk to geniuses after massages that you normally hate because you don't like to be kneaded.

I never told you I had a crooked tailbone too. I thought your head might implode with all the synchronicities that were flying around while you were ducking and I was laughing because you got bitchslapped and rightly so. I understand now. It's okay.

When I was lost and alone, you kept reaching out to me and offering your hand like in the painting of the little boy and girl crossing a broken bridge with a guardian angel standing behind them and you wore me down until I couldn't help but love you no matter how much I fought it. I fought it because I didn't believe I had anything to offer you and I was so stuck in my circumstances and then I said oh fuck it and asked you and you said no and I loved you anyway and in any capacity but then you came back and said fuck it and my heart soared and so did yours too, at least for a moment. I believed that we could work and beat the odds but I couldn't believe enough for both of us. I can only be a lucky charm if you believe, Sparky.  How could I not keep trying in the end, if you kept trying with me in the beginning? What you taught me about unconditional love when I was too blind to see it, I learned it all from you and could give it back freely. You eat my peppers; I eat your cheese.

I don't know how you feel right now and I'm not going to guess. I've been so sick, literally, agonizing over all of this that I had to accept it. Aggie still roots for you, you know. She says to leave a little window open for you but she put away the little wooden clogs that used to be on the bench outside the waiting room because I ask her not to teach me any more words because it hurts too much. Words I will never be able to appalling try out on you, and songs you will never let me hear. No road trip together. No elephant pics. No more song links or short stories or fairy tales or love letters. Yours is the last fairy tale, so treasure it. It might be worth something when I'm famous. I proved myself with the loveletters, though, didn't I? I thought I found a loophole but I fucked myself over big time. You always said I was so strong but did you ever think that you had the power to almost break me?

No laying on a crappy motel room bed talking about Nairobi or beating up spiders in bathrooms with tennis rackets. Not ever hearing you say, Snoes. But whenever I see a tiny deer I will think of you. Whenever I get a butterfly in my stomach, I will think of you. Whenever my tongue gets burnt on hot bacon or pork belly, I'll think of you and whenever I see that seagull on the ceiling, I will think of you. I will ever imagine the hug at the airport that doesn't exist because you're as embedded in my soul as my own name. No matter what you've done, or what you think, you are still a giver of light.

We are all damaged, just by different degrees so I won't condemn you but I have to move on. No, there isn't anyone else but I want there to be because I can't live in a void and I need to be needed and loved.  My love, no matter how unconditional or perfect, can't make you accept it or believe it, so I have to accept your choices. Right now I can't see your name or your picture anywhere because it keeps me suspended in a limbo of pain that my body and my heart just can't deal with and that's not good for me because I'm in it all alone. I used to feel you everywhere with me but you severed that silver thread.

Every good thing I said to you, I meant and still do. Every dream I had about you, I still dream for you. I wish you love. I wish you undiluted bliss. I wish your every passion be ignited and fulfilled and that you remember that someone adored you exactly as you were and believed in you. You will always be Sparky and Spooky Oats and the door will always be open a little bit for you. My friendship never ever dies. Ever. That's just how I am and you know that.

I know you may not be reading these anymore, but I know some friend of yours will so I hope they pass this on to you with love because it's written with more love than any words can ever convey.

Take good care of yourself, please...please... and when it's fucking cold out, don't forget to put on a sweater.

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