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Krissa Amore

1/22/2012

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Dear you,

I get it now.

Sorry I wasn't there for you. I wish you were here now. More than anything.

xoc
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Dear you

1/3/2012

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Do you remember what it was like to wear primary colors? I want to remember you living out loud in full spectrum, but now I see you in muted earth colors, and I know that time is gone; faded away like the rainbow fades into the rainy day... 

I think that's why I have drunk emailed you twice now. I just can't accept that this full-spectrum you is so completely gone, replaced by shades of shit brown, with hair matted down, each part of you blending together like your mind is your arm and your arm is your hip, tattooed with words of moss green and dirt.... 

You used to move with quick jerking playful jumps. I could spot you from across a field. I remember you laughing about riding bikes with your ex, each of you in primary colors. I could imagine your legs lifted our straight, weaving and bobbing with each turn, laughter emanating from your body. 

Now, you just blend into the background, moving in an almost stealth mode. You're always gone as soon as I notice you; home to stuff yourself into a burlap sack of your psyche no doubt. And while I am glad to see you finding some ground, I wish it weren't burying you. 

Do you remember walking to the bus from Public speaking class talking about whether it was nature or nurture? I felt safe in that conversation; like I could struggle with words and ideas, safe in the liminal. I want to remember you with that tiny bit of softness, as caring as you were fierce. 

I think that's why I keep trying to be your friend. I just can't accept that you have completely lost that compassion and love you once had for others... for me. 

Now you just throw out accusations, communicating in double binds and guilt-by-association. You always leave a lasting bitter taste in my mouth, reminding me of other harsh accusations, lobbed out without thought. And while I am glad you appear to be working on yourself step by step, I wish it weren't at the stake of your humanity. 

Do you remember wanting to be near me? Yeah, me too.... which is why this is so hard. 

Goodbye. 

Love, me
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    Cora Leighton

    Thoughts about womyn, bodies, performance, life, play, and general randomness.
    If you think things are about you-- they probably aren't.

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