It’s been too long.

It’s felt like forever since I posted something. I suppose it’s because I’ve fallen again. Last time I looked into your eyes, I didn’t see that sense of love or care that they once had.

I had a dream last night. I dreamed I was sitting on an island, staring out into the sea as the waves splashed against the sand. Everything was quiet except for the sound of sand being smashed into itself by footfalls. They were light, indicating someone of a lighter weight. I turned my head to look who it was, and I’m sure it was most likely you, Moon, but as I turned I saw nothing. Footsteps in the sand, yes, but nobody to accompany them. They stopped just behind me. The silence was back. Nothing broke it and it was devastating. My ears wanted to explode because of how silent it was. The waves that were washing up and down the beach didn’t even make a sound. I was completely isolated and alone. All I remember doing was sitting there, staring at the sky that never seemed to move. The Moon never showed its face.

I woke up slowly, somberly. I got out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants. Then I slipped on a hoodie and promptly sat down against the side of my bed. I started pulling things out from beneath my bed, ruining the nearly perfectly clean floor of my room. As I pulled stuff out, I found a small box. It wasn’t like a shoe box, it was instead a lot smaller. I recognized it. It was the box your promise ring came in. Inside it was two pink slips of paper, each with a key on them. They were folded in half. Opening them, I didn’t know what to say or feel. It was a huge mix of emotions, I wanted to beat my hands on my floor to get it all out. They were our prom tickets. Sure, our names weren’t written on them or anything, but I remember you asking me why I kept them the last time you came over.

This is why. Because I’ll find them and reminisce about when I was happier, when I had your hand attached to mine, and your eyes filled stars every time you looked at me. God, it’s been too long since those happened. Far, far too fucking long.

Change.

I truly am everything I hate. I’ve become the person I was before I fell in love with you, Moon. I can’t say that I really feel anything except this yearning feeling in my chest. I’m so numb to the feelings that I should be feeling. I’ve learned how to mock happiness, excitement, and so many other emotions when in reality, I’m always sad or bored and I have no idea how to alleviate it. I’ve written my stories, I’ve worked on a campaign I’m going to DM for D&D, I’ve been learning Japanese, trying to make new friends despite the fact that my chest tightens up, my throat tries to close and my head blanks. It’s so difficult.

I just miss you, how you made me feel, how happy I made you. I miss you so much that I can no longer say that I feel love for anything except you. Whenever I say “I love you” or “I love this,” I never get that feeling of love. It feels like a placeholder phrase. Whenever I said that I loved you specifically, however, I knew that I couldn’t fake loving you because I didn’t need to.

I’ve become a robot again, as much as it hurts to admit to that. So, can it really be called change if I become something I was once before?

A question.

Today, in psychology, I was asked the question “What defines LOVE?” Well, the entire class was asked and we wrote down exactly what we thought love meant and despite my thinking that the class would rather hide the answers away and walk out of class, the vast majority of them voted to read their answers out loud. I wrote 3 extremely short paragraphs, whereas some wrote sentences and others wrote one word. Here is my answer, Moon:

“A dress. A pink dress. A coy smile topped with black hair, partially pink from the fading red hair dye. Soft hands, latching onto mine and interlacing the fingers. Together at last.

A kiss. On the cheek first. The shaky breath that accompanies nervousness. Eyes that light up with every passing. Trust. Total trust.

A thought. You’re the one. Words that hold true in both mind and tongue. Everlasting. Eternal. You’re the one. You’re still the one. Don’t worry. You’re still the one. I promise.”

And as a final piece on the page, the part I didn’t read aloud, I wrote, “You may not ever see this, but I miss you more with each passing day.” But now you’ll see it, so I suppose writing the “not seeing it” part was unnecessary. Regardless, it holds completely true.

A message I could’ve sent.

It’s 1:50 a.m. on a Monday and I am regretting the entirety of yesterday. I didn’t talk to you at all, not once. I thought about it, but I didn’t send you any messages. I know that if I apologized to you directly, you’d tell me “you’re fine” but I don’t feel that way. I have no obligations to make you happy or check in on you. I was told to move on from you the last time I brought you up to my parents or grandparents and I’ve had this anger deep inside me ever since then because I don’t want to.

I want to check in on you, I want to make sure you’re okay, I want to make you happy again because, and I’ve said it countless times, I am in love with you, Moon.

When you told me that my voice was still soothing, it made me so happy. When you checked in on me the other day after the fire at my house, I didn’t know my safety still mattered to you. Hell, you may have been asking about it simply because you were curious. I really don’t know but I’m going to safely assume the former.

As long as I can make sure that my Moon is okay, I’ll use whatever willpower I have to live. And though it may seem arrogant, I know that you still love me, even if you don’t want to tell me directly.

So with that, Moon, I love you. I’m not ashamed to say it. I just hope that we’ll be together again so that I can prove that I mean it by wrapping you up in my arms and never letting you go.

And I’m sorry for not messaging you yesterday. My anxiety got the better of me. I promise to try harder next time.

I can’t even think of a good title.

I’m sitting at college as I write this, trying my hardest not to have an anxiety attack because there is a huge group of people around me and only one way through the crowd. So I thought that now’s a good a time as any to write something for you, Moon.

Beyond my anxiety, I’ve been happy. I’ve been happy because of last week. I was sitting there, playing video games with friends when you called me. I saw “Mo-” and I thought my mom was calling me, because she always does when she’s on her way home. Then I did a double take and saw the picture I had given your number and my heart skipped a beat. I felt like I was dreaming. Time slowed down and I felt my head nearly explode, trying to think of what could make this a dream as opposed to a reality. I decided to stop thinking, pick up the phone and answer. So, I quickly muted my microphone and did just that. I said “Hello” and tears had already started to appear as soon as I heard you respond.

We had a nearly 3 and a half hour talk. It was the best thing in the world. It made me so happy that I was riding off that high for daaaaaayyssss. I still might be. We talked about as much as we possibly could, I hesitated a few times because I hit that point where I don’t know what to say anymore but you didn’t seem to care. In fact, you seemed to be absolutely fine with me rambling the way I did. I hope you were or else I’d feel bad. That 3 hours went flying by and I wish I could jump back to last week just to talk to you for 3 hours again. But I can’t.

I expected you to hang up on me after a while but you never did. You just kept telling me to talk, to say something, and so I did. It eventually got to the point where you started getting tired and you told me how soothing my voice was and I sorta laughed and agreed. I asked if you wanted me to tell you about my dreams and you made a sound, something that told me you were nearly falling asleep on me. I laughed again before telling you the tales of my dreams and nightmares, the weird things that happen. I especially remember telling you the story of my Dr. Seuss-like dream and how everything was so big and tall or tiny and small, colorful, wonderful and full of light. I really hope you enjoyed the stories I told from my dreams. I haven’t told anyone but you.

I miss all of it already. I just wish you’d come back so we could do that every day. I still love you, Moon. Every single day.

Finally, something good.

I fell asleep way earlier than I should have, I feel like an old man with how early I actually went to bed. Regardless, I’m writing this pretty much right after I woke up, so if it doesn’t make sense, that’s why.

I had a dream. Not a bad dream, not a horrifying nightmare, not something I’d wake up crying because of, but a dream so amazing that I wish it never had ended. And since I’m writing it on this tumblr, you can be sure it was about you, Moon.

I picked you up from school. That’s how it began. I woke up after dozing off in my truck because you opened the passenger door. Instead of sitting in the passenger seat, you slid to sit in the middle, right next to me. I asked how you were and you said you were great and I smiled at you and you smiled back. After I kissed you on the forehead, I started up the truck and we left the parking lot. Instead of driving past my house, we pulled into the driveway and we parked and went inside after hanging out with my dog outside for a while. You put your stuff down on the chair in my room and lounged against it, letting out a sigh that told me you were somewhat exhausted from the day. I asked you about your day and you told me to be quiet for a second. I shrugged before pulling you out of the chair and holding you against me. You made a sound that told me you were surprised, but I was completely sure you were okay with being wrapped up in one of my hugs. Then we fell back on my bed, where we cuddled for hours, talking about things. I taught you things about psychology, told you about the story I’m writing and even confused you a bit when I started speaking a little bit of japanese. You showed me some new music you had found, nearly fell asleep hugging against me, and then told me what you did at school. We smiled and laughed at each other and I told you a few jokes that made you chuckle and roll your eyes and even hide that gorgeous smile of yours a few times. We even told each other “I love you” multiple times, topping it off with a kiss.

Then I heard my house phone ring. I sat up, except it was dark now. I looked at the clock. 1:30 a.m. It was all a dream. I wish it was much more than that. I had woken up hugging one of my pillows. Why did it have to be a dream?

Hello Moon

I got your message. I just wish I could’ve been the one to hear it, but I’m glad I got it regardless. I just wanted to say thank you.

Also, Hi to you too, Moon. I hope you’re having a good wednesday so far. I’d do anything to make sure you were. <3

Another Nightmare.

My sleep schedule is worse than not sleeping every night. I lay awake for hours, only to fall asleep, then wake up an hour or so later wondering where I am. Most of the time it’s because of some reaction my brain has, terrified of the nightmares that would, and still do, plague me. I feel the terror when I wake up, but last night was different. I had a nightmare again last night. It wasn’t terrifying or filled to the brim with fears that the childish side of me is scared of. It was something I’ve talked about before, something I experienced already and something I’m still fearful of. I wrote it down and I’ll just put it here, too.

It started out simple. It was raining, I was standing outside, laughing at something. Someone, shrouded by the rain, pointed out a vehicle turning into my driveway. Two headlights. I couldn’t see anything past that. The rain was too thick, it was blinding, but I could still see me. I wasn’t wet. It was like a thick veil of fog, except the droning sound of rain slamming against every surface it could get its wet, droplet-like hands on was drowning out the sound of everything else. Two people ran up to me and as soon as they stepped within 5 feet of me, I could see who it was. It was my brothers, both of them. They laughed and hugged me, then they turned around, waving. I felt a sudden twinge of sadness seeing them disappear. They’d be back though, is all I thought. They had to be back. Then someone else appeared. It was someone I hadn’t seen for nearly 10 years. My cousin, Jesse. He had died from a seizure in his sleep. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a hug, just like he used to do when I was a kid. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Or did the rain finally hit me? Then, as soon as he hugged me, he disappeared. This time he didn’t walk away, he was just there and gone in an instant. I fell to my knees, splashing into the mud. I stood back up and turned around, eager to get back to messing around with whoever I was laughing at. Then I was grabbed by the hand by somebody, and it was Moon. I knew it had to be, I know how her hand feels, I’m a connoisseur when it comes to her hand. I turned around and was met with a smile, though it wasn’t a full smile. Then suddenly, I felt a peck on the cheek, wet, tingly. My heart beat faster. I grabbed the hand tighter and swung it back towards me like I would whenever Moon would wander too far away from me in real life. Except, as soon as I felt that initial touch of her hip bone pushing into me, she vanished. My hands were empty, my heart was beating and my eyes were darting around like crazy. It felt like an eternity standing there and I realized nobody had come back. I turned and called out, wondering who it was that I was laughing at. I could hear and see nobody but myself. The rain didn’t let up. So I stood there. My hand still held at my side, where it once fit Moon’s hand. I still don’t know if I was crying, or if the rain had finally started to pour on me.

Simply put: Love.

I’ve been missing you for so long, even on the days you’d give me your time and ear and we’d talk. I missed you because I couldn’t grab you up in a hug and smile down at you as we walked, or kiss you on the forehead after you said something that made me feel better about myself, or hold you by the hands and teach you something new about the world as you look at me with some mixture of confusion and wonder. Teaching you something new always made me feel better because I knew that somebody would listen, no matter how many times I stuttered or tripped over my words.

I completely, 100%, without even the slightest bit of doubt, love you. It’s not just that, it’s more so that I’m entirely IN love with you. Every emotion I could gather throughout our relationship was invested into it. I crave the time we can’t have together so that I can tell you this, and top it off with a kiss that means I really do care.

I’m not sure why I wrote this out because I’ve said pretty much all of this countless times, both in real life and here. I suppose this is just a reminder. I am in love with you, Moon. Deeply in love.

Chosen.

I’m the one. That’s what you told me before you left me. You said that no matter what, I’m the one and I just need to remind you every so often. I know I can’t rely on that to make you come back, but I just wanted to remind you. Through everything I did or tried to do, you told me, every so often, that I was most definitely the one. If I really am the one, then why can’t I tell you I love you every night? Or kiss your forehead every so often and see that perfect smile of yours? I keep telling myself I’m the one because if I stop, I can barely function.

It’s 2 am and yesterday was exactly that. I was fine in the morning, but when I went into work I crashed. My head spun, my heart ached, my throat closed up, all because I said: “Maybe I’m not really the one”.

And all I desire is you, and you’re so far away so I kept every picture you’ve sent me because it means you’ll still be in my life somehow, even if it’s on the precipice. I can look at you and smile, replacing that depression with hopefulness. It’s only when I stop looking at you that I lose my smile, I slump over, I want to stop everything I do. I’m sorry for being so obsessed but I told you. I meant it when I said you were my universe. It’s not hard to move on, it’s impossible. Even if I’m not the one for you, you’ll always be the one for me, my darling Moon.

Terror.

I woke up sad. I had a terrifying nightmare. It wasn’t something fabricated, something that only seemed real when it wasn’t actually. No, this one was lifelike, it felt extremely real, it felt like I had experienced this already and I woke up knowing exactly what that feeling was like. In reality, I’ve never experienced anything like it. I fear the day I experience it.

I was laying in bed. That’s the start of the nightmare. I was staring at the ceiling, YouTube blaring in the background. I remember drowning it out with some kind of humming. My stomach churned and ached and I know I was thinking about you. I was scared of something but I couldn’t put my finger on it, in the dream and in reality. Then, I picked up my phone and messaged you. ‘Hey, Moon’ is all I said. I didn’t get back an answer. I remember waiting for what felt like hours, my stomach continuing to turn as I lie there. Looking at my phone, it had only been 10 minutes. For some reason, I messaged you again. This time, I said ‘How are you?’

I immediately got a message back. You said, “Stop” and all of that turning stopped. Instead, my stomach dropped. A couple of minutes later you messaged me saying “You know you can’t talk to me so stop trying” and right there, I turned off my phone. The rest of the nightmare was me writhing in depressed agony, beating my hands against my pillows, blankets, and wall. Every minute felt like it was real life, I couldn’t tell if you were saying that in a nightmare or if I had really gained the courage to message you.

But now I know it was a dream. And so I sit here, wanting to message you but knowing that you’re asleep at 4 in the morning. I want so badly to talk to you again, to send you a morning text and get a “hello” with a heart back. But it terrifies me as to what your response may be now. It makes me sit and ponder over whether I really should message you or go against my promise I made you a year ago and just leave you alone. Sometimes I sit on my bed and think about it for close to an hour before realizing that all I would do is make things awkward, weird or even uncomfortable. If you wanted to talk to me, you would, right?

So why does my heart tell me that I’m wrong?

College.

It was my first week back at college. A second-year student. I still don’t know what I want to be. Maybe an English teacher? Or a chemistry teacher? I could always be a programmer, I’m good with computers and I know some coding languages.

Regardless, it wasn’t as fun as I wanted it to be. I had a long conversation with somebody about politics in this day and age but otherwise, it was as uneventful socially as I thought it’d be. I was just so anxious to talk to anyone else, I sat alone most of the time. Some friends waved and I waved back, I think one of them waved me over to them but I just waved and went back to sulking in my sadness. I’d feel so terrible if that’s what happened.

I did have an anxiety attack like I thought I would. I was sitting in the cafeteria, writing my story, when a flood of people who just got out of class arrived. I quickly walked out because I knew what would happen. Nevertheless, it still happened. My throat started to close up, my heart started beating super fast, the tips of my fingers started going numb. I wanted to feel like my anxiety was getting better. In fact, I felt like it was and every day I was gaining more and more courage to talk to people but suddenly it was all reset on Thursday.

Hopefully, I don’t have this problem again. I couldn’t calm down for almost 10 minutes when normally I could do it right away. But the means of doing that isn’t mine anymore. Next week starts school for you, Moon. I hope you have a better week than I did. 

I love you, Moon. It’s random and out of nowhere but... I still haven’t broken that promise.

Fuck

I couldn’t do it, Moon. I said I would go to the fair today but I couldn’t. As I was driving towards it, I saw the crowds, I saw how many people there were and I nearly lost it in my truck. My heart started beating as fast as it could, my throat started to close up and even now I’m shaking while typing this.

I just hope I’m not like this once college starts back up on Monday. I’ll never survive this next year if I am.

Fun at the Fair

It’s the week of the fair, Moon. I wanted to go, hell, I still want to go. I just can’t.

It’s opening day and I’m not going. I don’t ride any rides, I don’t enjoy crowds, I can’t eat the food, I won’t have any fun. You were the remedy for all of that but now all I’ll be able to do is look at you from afar, wishing for something I can’t have. All I want to do is hug you again, kiss your forehead and see you smile.

So, I’ll be going Saturday. Not today, I can’t go tomorrow or Friday because of work. But Saturday will be that day. If you don’t see this until after that, or if you see this and just don’t care, then me saying it won’t matter anyway. Even if you can’t give me a hug, keep an eye out for me. I’ll be there.

Getting rid of this feeling.

I feel... empty.

Not exactly in that sense, it’s hard to explain how I feel to an exact point but I just feel like some ravenous, endless, daunting hole, where every emotion goes in but never comes out. And I hate it.

I know I said come back and I know that won’t make you budge any more than I want you to but I don’t care. I hate feeling empty because I want to act on something. I want to be confident, I want to be happy, I want to stand proud and put my fists to my hips and yell to the world that I’m here and I’m not afraid to show it. And so I tried to act on my feelings, my desires. I do want you to come back and so I said it. I’m tired of living with my mouth shut when I want to say something.

If you read this, you might think it’s your fault I’m not like that. It’s not, Moon. Not at all. I’ve always been this way. I’ve always wanted to act, to rush into action knowing exactly what I’m going to do, to take on some terrifying task just to show myself that I’m worthy of anything, and yet I always fall short. I always disappoint and I can never completely finish anything.

So I’m trying to finish something. It’s my story. A story that combines elements of steampunk, mythology and magic. It’s gruesome, it’s detailed, it’s worth it. I don’t know if you ever will get around to reading any of my stories. I hope you do. Even if you only read a single paragraph.

Dear Moon,

Moon, I hope you don’t hate me. I don’t know why but I just have this feeling you want to distance yourself from me more than you already had before. I don’t know whether to feel that I’m overreacting or if what I’m feeling is real because, well, it won’t go away.

With every other bit of anxiety about you I had, it would eventually go away. This time, though, it hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s been here for nearly 4 days. And I can’t stop it and it’s making me angry and sad and even angrier and even sadder until I’m this walking mass of something that won’t calm down.

I’m not asking you to tell me if you do hate me or not, though it’d help a lot, and I thought I’d do something for you. If it’s still okay, I’m going to record a video and send it to you. I’m going to say everything that’s on my mind, everything from what I feel shouldn’t be said because it’s selfish to what I haven’t said yet on this Tumblr and I’m going to send it to you because why not? I want you to hear my voice when I say it instead of reading it off of a screen. I don’t want any misinterpretation with the emotions. You might even get the video before you read this and hopefully, you’re okay with it and like it and at least watch a little bit of it. 

But like I’ve always told you, I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to. Hopefully, your opinions of me are the same. I will always have that bit of hope remaining.

What I should’ve said every day

Do you remember whenever I’d ask you what your favorite part about me was? And you’d always say something different. First, you said my hands and how big they were. Then you said my eyes and how they sparkled when I looked at you. Then you said my smile and how even though it was rare to see my toothy smile, it was always so handsome. Then, finally, you’d say my lips, for an obvious reason.

Then I’d try to tell you what my favorite part about you was. My answer seemed so mediocre. I always gave a one-word answer or a shitty reason why. I want to clarify the things I’d say.

It seemed like I didn’t have a favorite part of you at first. You were my favorite thing and I always gave you the cheesy answer that every part of you was my favorite. The truth is that I couldn’t choose. I spent every chance I could looking at you, and every minute we were together was hugging you and holding your hand and pulling you back to me when you’d wander away. I spent every second of our kisses in heaven and every single time we pulled away from each other, I knew I had a smile on my face.

I love your eyes. Not the color, not the shape, none of that. I loved the way they looked at me. They looked into mine and I knew you could see how sad I was. I knew I could hide nothing from those beautiful eyes of yours, so I didn’t. I opened up every chance you let me. I also loved how you’d look at me like you were in a dream. You always told me it felt that way. Okay, yes, I loved everything else about them too.

I love your hands. They’re so much smaller than mine. I would grab them and hold them for as long as possible. I cared so little about what happened around me when I was holding one of your hands. You’d always lace your fingers with mine if I didn’t hold one, or cross your arms and pout until I smothered your cheek in kisses before letting me hold your hands again.

I love your hair. Long or short, it was beautiful. When we’d hug, yes, it would get into my face but I didn’t care. You’d let me run my hands through it whenever I rubbed your head a little and it smelled so good every time I saw you. Is that a weird thing to like about your hair? I don’t really care.

I love your cheeks. They were so... kissable. I would rub my thumb along your cheeks and you’d close your eyes and it looked like you were in paradise. Then I’d put my palm against one of them and you’d grab my hand and hold it there, so I could never leave. I never ever wanted to leave. Seeing you with that adorable smirk you’d get while resting on my hand made me so happy. I fell in love with you, even more, every single time.

I love your nose. You hate it, but I loved it. I would poke it and kiss the tip of it and you’d get so annoyed with me for it but I couldn’t help it. I can’t say much about your nose since I couldn’t do much but kiss it or poke it, duh, but I loved it nonetheless.

I love your size. You’re so much smaller than I am. Whenever I hugged you, you fit perfectly against me. Your head fit beneath my chin perfectly, your arms could reach around my neck perfectly and I’d know to lift you up and spin you around. I would hug you and you’d disappear from the world, safe within the kingdom that was my arms, my chest, me. And there were times, more often than not, that you wouldn’t let go of me until you were satisfied. It seemed like you were breathing me in, making sure I was real. I was, Moon and I always will be.

I love every single part of you. I know I should be saying loved, but the truth is that I can’t. I can’t say loved because none of these feelings are in the past. I still love you, Moon, and I still love every bit of you. It won’t be the same this year at the fair without having you to hold and kiss.

I still have hope, Moon. I don’t know if it’s stupid but I still have hope you can be mine. I want you and you asked me what I was passionate about. I said being a father. The truth felt too cheesy, infinitely more than what you were normally used to. I was passionate about you. That’s why I invested so much time into you. I miss everything about you. Even the parts you thought I would hate.