Wednesday, July 14, 2004

JULY 14, 2004 (WEDNESDAY)

Sunrays and Saturdays
Vertical Horizon

Open the window
Let the sun set in
If only for the last time
Let me see you smile again

I’ll take my records
You can have your books
I’m sorry I never read them
But it says so much about us

Always trying to make love out of care
The perfect recipe, but something wasn’t there

And I wish you sunrays and Saturdays
Perfect starry nights
Sweet dreams and moonbeams
And a love that’s warm and bright

Sunrays and Saturdays
Friendships strong and true
Oceans of blue and a room with a view
To live the life you choose

You’ll write me letters
And I’ll call you on the phone
A wire away from touching
But never quite alone

We’ll get to know ourselves again
And we’ll heal our hearts
It’s not that we’re bad together
We’re just better off apart

Always trying to have one and one make two
Even though it never worked, I still feel love for you

And I wish you sunrays and Saturdays
Perfect starry nights
Sweet dreams and moonbeams
And a love that’s warm and bright

Sunrays and Saturdays
Friendships strong and true
Oceans of blue and a room with a view
To live the life you

Live the life you
Live the life you choose

I’m crying as I listen to this song. Gandalf made this compilation CD for me two years ago, and I haven’t listened to it for ages and I’d forgotten that this was the first song.

And I’m crying not just for me, but for my friends who loved and lost the one they loved, and I’d never wish this pain and loss on anyone. And I’m crying because I know I’m starting to get over him, I really am, and because I shall miss loving him as intensely and as truly as I did before. And I’m crying because I wish that I had my fairy-tale love affair and I realize that I just did and now perhaps I might fall in love again but never in this manner – never this truly and this sincerely and this passionately. And I’m crying because this song is perhaps the one that describes the situation perfectly, and that I miss him so much and that I still love him so much and that I wish I were back in his arms again but I know that that will never happen and that I am starting to move on.

I’m supposed to write about reformed pigs and mud holes, and how Meia propped me up again earlier, and so did Dell, and that I had a grand day today with my favorite class (Fiction 2) and my favorite classmates, and how I loved reading the tarot for everyone today, and the GRAIL discussion group earlier and how I feel that things are looking up for the org. I’m supposed to write about how pretty I thought I looked in my nice short skirt and pink socks and that I’m feeling more prolific and productive right now than I’ve ever had before and that I’m so proud that I’m a deadline ahead of my thesis class and that there are so many plans going for me right now and I’m hoping that everything will be able to push through –

But everything always goes back to him. And perhaps a part of me will never leave him.

Jilly, you’re right. There are so many people in my life, and leaving this place just because of him is neither intelligent nor appropriate. If I am ever going to leave, it will be because I am pursuing something, not escaping something. And I am perfectly aware that I should get out of this funk, and I am out of it most of the time – but sometimes intentions are different from actions, and when he’s around everything goes out the window. But then, if I can discipline myself writing, then I can discipline myself with this. I suppose it only takes time.

I do not know what will happen in the future, and I refuse to imagine half-baked situations and what-ifs that will probably drive me crazy. As Dell said, I am banging my own head on the wall; he just poses prettily beside me and laughs haughtily. As far as I am concerned, I have to look forward and exist in my own world. This is the only way I can return to being myself again, to becoming whole and unbroken. If there is anything I have to leave behind, it is this girl, whose heart is still in pieces – delicate fragments of ruby glass cupped in her hands – crying. I don’t want to be that girl anymore.



I'm the lai, with no sort
Of grave, solemn thought,
And I
Will never be caught
By miseries sought,
Nor sigh;
Where battles are fought
Or arguments brought,
I fly.
What Poetry Form Are You?

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