Confessions of a 5'1"

I know its been a long time, about a year now that we haven't seen each other. But you know what? You're still my best friend. Even though we haven't talked for months. We both realize that we're only a text, a call, an email, a message away from one another and our hearts have always been right next to each other.

I wanted to remind you today that you know me. I know that sounds kind of funny, but I don't know how else to word it.

I'm still that girl you got into reading in Grade 3 & 4.
I'm still that girl you literally save every Friday in PE class when we run the track.
I'm still that girl you played pretend/imagine with every breathing moment in elementary.
I'm still that girl you wrote letters to after I moved in Grade 5+
I'm still that girl you co-wrote stories with all day when we would visit.
I'm still that girl you spooned with those days we went to Mexico together and spent hours at night up because we couldn't stop laughing.

No matter how much we change, physically-mentally; I still know you and you me. Of course there will be times where we would stop and look at each other and wonder who this other person is, but thats ok- Because we would realize: This is my sister. My best friend, this is she and I accept that.

Or we would end up beating each other up over why we changed so much.

Go on. Go on.

This is your life and I hope you're living it the way you want. Are you who you want to be? Is today how you saw it? What makes you feel alive?

If you ever need, hell even when you don't, anyone you know where I am.

I'll listen, I'll cry.
I'll find what it is you need, I'll help.
I'll laugh, I'll love.
I'll order that meal for you.
I'll beat up that person.
I'll brush your cat.

And, ok.
I'll admit it: I miss you.

Happy birthday again, J, RainNose, Kaye, Jeni, whatever alias you are under.
Love you more than any hormone infested boy will.

-Me.

Can you forgive me?

What if I wanted to run away.
What if I wasn't running from you.
Are you able to see past the blood on my hands? The corpse before me?
Look at me, and tell me if what you see is who I am.
Would you take the place of this man?

I lower my head in disappointment and the nails fall from my hands
You turn in the opposite direction and begin to walk away.
I'm just waiting for someone to pick me up off the floor.
To engulf me in strong arms and tell me:
"It's ok. We're all guilty of the same things."

You are forgiven.

There was this boy I used to talk to last year. He lived on my street and we'd always walk home together after school and have the most peculiar conversations. He was a strange one, after all.

I asked him one day about the half full or half empty glass question, "Which do you see?" There wasn't a hesitation in his response, "Neither, I'd be trying to figure out what exactly was in the cup."

"What if it was your soul?"
"Why would it only take up half the glass?"
"Maybe you just have a small soul."
"Maybe I'll just eat yours and mine will grow."
"Fuck off, it's mine...."

One Friday, I stopped him in the middle of the street with the rain drenching our shapeless bodies. A few cars honked at us to move, but they only joined in with Nature's symphony in the background. We stood still for a moment and I made a grab for his hand and placed it over my heart.

"Do you feel that?" I asked him. He'd only nod.
"It's ticking like a cheap clock," I explain. "But it still tells the time, even if it's a few minutes-or an hour off."

I watched him get under the shelter of his front porch and slowly look back at me with a kind smile. There always was enough sun for us both.

I was the strange one, after all.

So, I'm not sure where to start this; but I suppose I already have. Last night after our conversation I couldn't sleep, and then later I did. And I was not bothered until I woke up again. I had my break, as did it but I didn't want it to come back so soon. Perhaps I shall nap again and take my escape.

But what if I was to awake somewhere unfamiliar? Flowers woven in my hair and a song waiting to be stolen by the birds down below. What am I to think?

I do not understand.
It must be because I am too simple, I don't perceive the depths of words. I have too soon set limits on them and the original doesn't mean itself anymore.
I do not understand.
It must be because I am too complex, I over analyze these made-up patterns-a new one born anytime I am stuck to provide myself with another conclusion.
I say it three times, I do not understand.

How are the thousands of miles between us diminishing while your heart and soul is drifting further away from me?

How is it I am falling asleep.

I've been holding onto the rope for a long time now, the tension pulling at the pieces.
Ever since I fell out, I've been reaching for these life savers, these things that people throw out to me. Will you let me drown...?

I don't understand how the hardest thing about holding on isn't the pain you endure. It isn't the burning sensation through your hands nor the discouragement from others. It isn't the thought of losing whatever it is, no matter how much I wish it was. It's having to let go.

I got tired of reaching for visions that are only that.
I allow the rope to slip from my fingers and float between tendrils to the bottom--Now I know what I believe in.

And I think to myself:
So this is what its like...
To breathe for the first time.

I've always been walking alone; but I don't mean to.
When I turn around, everybody is so far far behind- and I feel it in my heart.
But I keep walking anyways
Because;
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

You tell me that one day you'll catch up to me.
And we'll hold hands like we once did when we were five.

I walk through cities, I climb through mountains
Wherever I go I am always in your sight
I keep walking
Step after step, forwards, to the left & to the right.
But never back.
I count my steps and divide when I stumble
But before you can reach me, I'm already walking again.
My shadow stretches closer to you than I ever will
but my heart is closer to yours than its own beat.
And one day, I'm afraid when I turn around to look for you
You won't be there...