We were on the corner of 16th and Mission,  after eating pupusas nearby. You were taking me on a surprise, but you felt off, due to what we later realized was most likely an allergic reaction to plantains. I feel like I remember it raining, but it probably wasn't. You got a text message and everything spiraled from there. It was the first time I noticed it-- not the actual first time, which masqueraded as a relapse, cheating, or some other betrayal in my mind.

But, it didn't look like this feels, so I am stuck now in this cognitive dissonance trying not to care why you felt so scared and remember why I do or if I should.
 
I guess I didn't expect this to be what it was like, because you were always free with those words and actions, welcoming me onto the surface of your heart within a week of what was supposed to be a one-night stand. My head always fit perfectly on your chest, so close to the once broken, but now fixed beating... So close that I didn't notice. I didn't know that it was just words; lyrics to a song that hid your fear.

It never looked like this feels, so I struggle to free myself from the need to build a time machine back so I can ask the you of those days questions, and instead focus on asking the me of right now questions.

But I think I know the answers to these questions, so it would be pointless in the end, just as the questions were then. I know what I fear, and I know what I don't know. I know I shouldn't get comfortable and I know I am more or possibly too much.... and as I write these words, I realize that somewhere in the very core of your body, you knew these things too. You knew I had the upper hand. You knew how it would end, or you were going to play it out that way... I'm not sure which.

It never looked like this feels, so I now vacillate between sitting in it and high-tailing it as 19 year old, 22 year old, and 28 year old me would have... Wishing I had the comfort of surprise trips to ice cream, sweet flowers, and words-- even if they were just to hide fear; to still this spinning; calm this rupture; sooth the little one inside... until I get the courage to exhale as I did that night on the corner of 16th and Mission.

 I feel lost in it, like when I was 19, dropping acid every night, working as a stripper at a tiny dive bar called "Centerfolds" in South Philly, dating dudes, and secretly in love with my best friend. I remember sitting in the quad
at American University, where she went to college, and where I was always so obviously a visitor; an outsider clad in all black and a sadness that would make emo kids jealous, in comparison to the snow white abercrombie students concerned more with getting drunk or going to class than dropping acid with their secret lesbian loves. I suddenly realized that I was in it because of my own inaction. I was there because I was keeping myself there. The icy cold wind was keeping me numb to it all and keeping everything at a glacier's pace of slow motion, like when you stay out playing in the snow too long as a child and everything becomes so slow that you need your mom to call you inside so you don't die of frost bite. "I feel so lost, I can't even see the light to figure out which way is up," I said to her.

And 3 weeks later I moved. I created the action I needed to propel myself out of that abyss.

And 16 years later, almost to the day, I find myself here again and not again-- the same with completely different circumstances. The only difference is that I can't figure out what action might bring me back to sea level. The only difference is that I am 16 years more cynical, and there is not enough acid in the world to cut through that shell of push/pull relationships and unrealized desires.

I want to reach across the abyss that we have created-- both of us afraid of the other... I want to reach out and hold your hand; hold you and cuddle like we did that one time when neither of us expected it. I want not to be afraid of myself with you; want you not to fear yourself with me...

But instead, there's just this abyss of cryptic messages and feelings left unsaid. I want to look up and say to her "I feel so lost, I can't even see the light to figure out which way is up," and then magically understand what I need to say and do to make this ok... to make my heart hurt less... to make you feel safe with me... to make all of the pain and suffering of our histories vanish like we were 19 years old and didn't yet know what it felt like to lose friends, lovers, family, and community.... to make our 19 year old selfs not know the disfunction and suffering they carried forth to our 30-something selfs...

So tonight, for the 19 year old goth girl, I will hope that the answer is not to disappear as it was so many times before and say, "I feel so lost, I can't even see the light to figure out which way is up."

I roll over-- sweaty and chilled from the night-- to feel the space... The space next to me; the space behind me; above and inside.... to remind me of what is, at this very moment...

It's like when she asked me to hold her hand; caress her hair and show her affection in public... I just couldn't do it, and I know that is how it is now, so I don't ask.

I remember sitting on the pier in Ventura, gazing out at the water... feeling totally alone, by my own design. "Good morning, Sunshine!" you greeted, even though it was not morning and it was far from good... "Am I a bad girlfriend?" I asked, wondering why I refused to give in and just be with her as completely as she wanted... "No, you just aren't ready" you assured me... And now even though I don't know what you meant, I know how you felt and wish I could thank you for not hating me...

But I can't, because you are gone.

I roll over--imagining some warmth around me; behind me; above and inside me... but I am reminded of what isn't, at this very moment...

I want to call you and hear your sweet smiling voice say "Good morning, sunshine" tonight, as the giant moon rises. I want to feel your warm embrace, so strong and soft at the same time. I want to know that there is someone out there who loves me, and was in love with me, and gets me and can tell me it will be ok, in a way I actually believe...

I want to smell you and feel that deep exhale you used to create in me, until 5 years ago when, just after New Year's, I got the call that changed everything forever.

I think you would understand completely right now, and we could just sit on the phone, listening to each other's breath, together but not together, totally connected... You would say the exact right thing and, even though it wouldn't change what actually is, I would feel a bit more space in this desire... even though it would probably be a bunch of BS-- just like it was when you told me that I wasn't a bad girlfriend-- I would believe you...

I roll over, trying to flip this switch off-- to feel the space next to me, above me, behind me, around me, and inside me... to remind me of you, and what it feels like to be a little less alone, and what it might feel like not to feel like this-- like I can definitely not ask this...