Missing you.

So… I still miss you.

That shouldn’t surprise me anymore. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation with you. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked me in the eye… Even longer since it wasn’t followed by quickly looking away when you realized I was looking back. Goodness, it’s been years since I’ve heard your laugh. Years. But I still miss you.

I never want to stop. So maybe that’s why I haven’t. But I never expected that it would still be this strong. That the pain would still be so real.

Then again, I never expected that, by now, we wouldn’t have become friends again. I never thought your silence would last this long. I always thought our reunion was just around the corner.

Now, part of me wonders if I was delusional.

But, when I was at my worst, those delusions gave me hope. And God used that horrible experience to teach me what hope was. And I’m forever grateful for that.

But that was years ago too. It’s been so long. And there’s a very large part of me that thinks if you and I tried to be friends again today, it wouldn’t even work. Because too much time has past. There’s been too much space, and my pain has completely filled it. And your walls have successfully kept me out. And, though I’m sure you’ve changed, I’m not sure you could even remove a single stone from one of the walls.

And that’s the other thing. Missing you is mixed with worry for you. Because I worry you’ve kept everyone else out. I worry you’re alone and lonely. I worry you’re in pain and too afraid to let anyone see the utter goodness you hold inside of you. I just… I worry.

And you would tell me to stop. And you would say you were fine. And you would say that you like living just the way you are.

And I would be able to see through your lies just as clearly as you saw through mine.

I don’t know why you did what you did. It doesn’t make sense, Tyler. You and I had a friendship that most will never understand. Didn’t you realize that? Didn’t you see how well we understood each other? Didn’t you feel the comfort that came from our friendship? Didn’t you know that I would love you, literally no matter what you did? Didn’t I tell you that on more than one occasion? Didn’t you promise you’d never leave?

And was all of that what scared you and sent you running?

We’re less than two months away from it being four years. This is why I’m convinced that, though there may be stages of grief, grief never actually ends. Because, if it did, would there still be tears in my eyes? If it did, would my heart still ache at the thought of you?

I love you, best friend. Haven’t I proven you can’t change that?

Missing you.

-Melissa

Fear.

There’s a part of me- I don’t know how large or strong- that wants desperately to go into hiding. I can just picture myself scrambling to secure walls I’ve set in place and make them stronger, higher, thicker than they’ve been before.

Because I’m scared. I’m absolutely terrified of what the future will bring. I don’t know how to move forward and yet, daily I have to. I can relate to those people that are too scared to leave their house. Because why would you want to face the day? Why would you want to roam about in a world where pain sits in eager expectation around every corner?

I’m afraid of myself, of who I could become. I’m afraid of the pride that wells within me, it’s back to feelings of unworthiness growing just as high. I’m afraid of the tendencies that I have. I’m afraid of my laziness. Of my compassion. Of my stubbornness. My mistrust. My inadequacies. My self consciousness. My obnoxiousness. My ability to go unseen. My inability to hide.

The other part if me- oh how it competes with the first part- wants nothing more than to embrace everything. This part of me is fearless. It longs for the walls I have to fall and crumble beneath my feet. It wants to live each day without a care in the world. I’m excited to see the world. I’m excited to take new steps. I’m excited to learn new things. To except more responsibility. To be on my own. To have no one responsible for me. To not need to worry about anyone else when I make a descision.

But what if I don’t get to see the world? But what if these new steps destroy me? What if the new things I learn don’t stick? What if more responsibility crushes me? What if I can never be on my own? What if it’s worse to not have someone responsible for me? What if I can never make a decision for me alone?

I’m afraid fear will paralyze me.

-Melissa

Blue.

I don’t know how to be anyone but who I’ve pretended to be. What if she’s not even me? How is it that lying is easier than the truth?

You know how it’s said that the truth will set you free?

They never said the implied.

Deception will trap you. Trap isn’t a strong enough word. It will ensnare you. It will shut, lock you in. It will make you it’s slave. I have somehow, amazingly conditioned myself to not give a single thing away when I’m lying. To not give away any emotion without my full consent to do so. Shock isn’t betrayed on my face unless I want the person I’m talking to to know I’m shocked. I have learned to wear a mask so realistic it isn’t questioned. I have learned to be indifferent when everything inside me is screaming.

And that is terrifying.

On one hand, I could make an excellent spy and am still blatantly confused as to why I have not been contacted by the CIA or FBI or The Lightman Group to harness my natural abilities.

On the other hand, how useful are these ‘skills’ if I can’t control them? If they control me?

It’s not that I live a lie. I am truly the person most people see. But it’s like the tip of the iceberg. There is so much that has shaped me, that has defined who I am, that is miles and miles below the surface. And… I can’t bring it to the surface. I tried today. I tried to talk myself into it.

What are you so afraid of? I asked myself over and over.

And I had no real answer. When I’m asking myself that again now, I feel…. surrounded by something. I’m stuck. There’s something inside of me. Metal jaws. Two doors intricately intertwined, never meant to be broken.

It’s like I’m a mime; there’s this invisible box around me and I try to bang on the walls and it doesn’t even make a sound. The walls don’t shake. And I’m just here in the enclosure with nothing but my spinning thoughts. And goodness, how they spin. I’m dizzy trying to think straight.

How have the defenses I’ve built up become so strong that even I can’t break them?

I’ve said the words before. How can I not say them now?

I painted over my blue skin

I trained myself to be green

Then I snuck into the forest

And did my best to not be seen

I met other green people

Others yellow, red, even blue

At night, I painted on a new coat

I didn’t know what else to do

I got used to being green

I learned to fit in my new skin

Every once and a while, I wonder…

What would it be like to be blue again?

-Melissa