love thrives where love is rooted in commitment
what came first,
commitment? or trust?
how do i commit to something
that may or may not be real?
how do you trust someone
who you’re not sure can commit to you?
we’re both standing at the airplane door
shivering in anticipation
parachutes neatly folded in our packs
yelling to be heard above the roar of the engine,
urging the other:
“jump first! im right behind you!”
am i the fool for leaping first?
you are my blind spot
my mind rotates all sides of your cube
fixated on all the signs,
connecting all the dots,
reading all the subtle cues,
to align all the red pieces on a face.
& just when i feel relaxed,
relieved,
accomplished,
for having finished all the reds–
i turn it over
& realize there’s five more sides all jumbled up
a mix of greens, yellows, blues, & whites
in chaos
in a mess
that makes me feel like i havent figured anything out at all.
“i dont need commitment right this moment.. i dont need for you to be my boyfriend. i dont even need to know you’ll be mine six months from now or anything.. just.. i need you to take a step closer. a step closer to me.”
“well what does that mean? what does that look like?”
“it means telling me this can go somewhere.. that this is something. can you take that step closer?”
“i cant take that step yet.”
“is there at least a possibility that you could take that step?”
“yes”
“ok… that’s good enough for me. for now.”
on heavy repeat.
you were city lights
& all i wanted was the moon
& you could never see the difference.
Do not resist events that move you out of your comfort zone, especially when your comfort zone was not all that comfortable.
“because i’m a fucking hopeful person–”
& he cut me off with that “wowww-i-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that” condescending laugh.
“hopeful?? HOPEFUL?? that’s the LAST word i’d use to describe you. i’d use quite the opposite word actually.”
that should’ve been an obvious sign to hang up the phone.
pleading with someone who knows me so little
for all our time together
means he’ll never understand.
but that’s the thing
i wanted the impossible.
i constantly wage wars against my self doubts & inner judges
& let the smallest glimmers of hope consume me
a slight inflection in your voice
an open-ended text
a possibility of you aligning your day to mine because my flight gets in early enough type thing
instead of it being that flickering small guiding light in the night sky
it becomes my sun.
my morning,
my focus,
my warm obsession to get through the night.
what you saw,
in the three years,
was me bridling my hope. constantly.
because i measured what you could give
& what i could ask for
& found painting my night sky orange
was just too devastating when you’d change it back to black.
so i set my sights lower
& only placed my hope on bets i knew i could win.
THAT is why i’m not a “fucking hopeful person”
… to you.
“im sorry, the door on that side doesn’t have a keyhole”
“..so if it did, you would open the car door for me? like a gentleman?”
“of course.”
& i got excited.
rejuvenated a bit.
i get to decide now
whether i find a guy who likes to open car doors for girls.. or not.
one of many conditions & things important to me
but still
i get a say.
instead of,
these are the things he comes with.. & wont do..
but i’m already neck deep in the thick of it all..
& i love him so much it hurts
that i cross off those conditions & things important to me
to make it work.
no no
this is a clean start.
without history
& longevity
& all our hopes & dreams tied to the tail end of our ship
sinking it slowly but surely.
i get to choose.
you made me small.
no — correction. i let myself be small.
with the chip chip chipping at the surface
because it was, well hell, the surface doesn’t make me me.
my hobbies, my interests,
i can afford to change those
& cater those.
because to be with you, i can watch soccer
& volleyball
& lift weights because you want us to do it together.
then it was my time.
the lack of it – in terms of what was spared for me in a day
& the lack of consideration for it — in terms of keeping me available to your “unpredictable” schedule
[between the two of us: one who flies across the world in a day & the other who works a 6-3 job .. whose is really unpredictable?]
chip chip chipping at my value in time
how its used
how its sacrificed
how its taken freely
with no apologies
but its ok. because i cannot control time.. so i cant really quantify it as a part of me right?
so the essence of taking it from me.. its ok. it’ll be ok.
then it was what made me happy.
because in your head what makes you happy should make me happy as well
because finding two paths to the same destination is impossible to you.
mine is a road of solitude
yours is a loud, bustling, chaotic path
& you made me walk on yours.
chip chip chipping at the deeper inner parts of me
the parts that screamed how uncomfortable
how painful it was
but i let it go.
because in the end we want the same thing.
then you took a step back
& realized you chipped too much
here & there
the mass caved where it shouldnt
& curved where it should’ve remained straight
so you scrapped the whole fucking work.
i let myself be small for you.
maybe i want to date my best friend.
maybe i want to ensure that you are,
indeed,
a good friend–
first & foremost.
earthtomars 