I wrote this for you. It's volatile and many dimensions of fucked up, but that should come as no surprise, given our interaction.
I started off writing about how I set myself up for failure when I personally handcrafted promises that I couldn't keep. I felt them dissolving, like the ice caps native to your home state.
You told me to trust you, so I did. My heart opened, blindness towards your truth set in, and those promises soon became obsolete.
Then I wrote of all the heartfelt shit, that I, myself, warned you to steer clear of. Like how I felt like a girl for the first time in a while, and how idealism, all of a sudden, didn't seem so stupid.
It all unraveled from there so I wrote some more. Like how I missed you free; when I could close my eyes and find you; of that dimension I could visit when you felt far away.
I loved telepathy and the prospect of another as addicted to chaos as I. The notion of someone who encouraged delirium, and who had yet to say no to an adventure in this realm or beyond it.
I admired the way you looked at the world, and how you knew that "you're ridiculous" was my favourite compliment. How you encouraged me to embrace my shadows, up until they began to summon your own.
When faced with such intensity though, my heart could only cope by shutting down, and I crumbled when my convictions were shaken.
I warned you. I told you that I would run but you said you were fast enough to catch me. I told you that it would be an uphill battle but you said you liked a challenge.
I knew that we were destined for ruination from the start, and that it was over before it even began. Unfortunately, my mind had run away with me by then.
There was the impossibility of our demons playing nice, and the way in which our walls couldn't help but crash into each-other. The manner in which we were both larger than life, in parallel but conflicting ways.
The way we read each other's thoughts proved problematic, given that my own mind is the place I fear the most. Perhaps that's why you made me uneasy; perhaps that's why I did the same to you.
The paradoxical emotions of our first encounter foreshadowed our demise. I couldn't tell if I loved or despised you; if you were fake or too real. You somehow felt like safety and terror, and I sensed entrapment on the horizon, without knowing how it would manifest.
I knew we would be disastrous but not in what sense. You simultaneously repelled and drew me in. I loathed yet lusted for you; focused on your strengths to eradicate my distaste for your shortcomings. I eventually began doing just the opposite.
I wanted you as far away, yet as close to me as possible, and craved yet dreaded that moment we would part. I resented myself for pushing you away, and you for letting me.
Then I wrote about how you're not what I wanted and how this conclusion, though painful, should be a relief.
I see through your smoke and mirrors. They may fool the world but not me. I have seen your mind, and I have seen your heart, and I have seen how badly you want to believe in the reality of your own illusions.
I wrote this for you. It was meant to make you feel something but I realize the futility of such a goal. I am incapable of infiltrating numbness, or of creating emotion where it has withered and deceased.
I started this out with broken promises so I will end it with a set of fresh new replacements. Please don't worry, I'll keep them better this time.
I promise that I'll take the good and the lessons that you taught me. I'll remember how to make magic without succumbing to spells, and that the ether is a beautiful space to share.
I promise that I'll not forget. I'll remember the way you lit up when you danced your ass off to a dirty set, and how you would grunt with excitement when the bass coursed through your veins.
I'll remember the lights and the buzz and the way you held onto me in the crowd, and the substance-less intoxication of just being that free.
I'll remember how you dodged your eyes, sharpened your tongue, and inflated your ego, so that I might be dissuaded from learning to love you.
I'll remember my impervious attempts at finding you in that otherworldly space where we first melted into one another. How it felt to keep crashing into the barriers that you built in that formerly safe place where I once freely roamed.
I'll remember the way the stars fell out of your eyes so I can recognize that barren look, when emotions are unreciprocated.
I'll remember that you're better at keeping promises than me, even the ones that I, myself, fashioned.
I promise not to back love into a corner, with a blade pressed firmly against its neck.
I promise that I will be careful who I trust, whilst acknowledging that to those unhardened by this life, softness is strength.
Finally, this promise is one that I am making to myself, and for its emergence, I am eternally grateful to you.
I promise that I will never again go searching for my worth in a man's eyes. Especially when they evade me; when they don't look adoringly at both darkness and light; when the fervour within them rages like a wildfire, only to dwindle to the mere flickering of a candle on a windy night. I promise to love myself so deeply that external validation is ineffectual.
Thank you for lowering my inhibitions, for cracking open my heart, and for showing me that I am still capable of feeling nonsensically.
Thank you for leading me towards finding the strength in vulnerability.
Thank you for tearing me down. I had let myself become too callous, and I needed this destruction. It has always been my favourite way to rebuild.
Alyeska, Alaska, September 2017.