Polly Marie
Absolutely no experience writing. Think of this as a personal journal where you get a look into my soul.
Polly Marie
Absolutely no experience writing. Think of this as a personal journal where you get a look into my soul.
Absolutely no experience writing. Think of this as a personal journal where you get a look into my soul.
Absolutely no experience writing. Think of this as a personal journal where you get a look into my soul.
my mother used to tell me i have such a big heart that i get sad because i care so much and it’s something wonderful. but now im here, and she’s gone and i love and i love, and give and i give but i never get what i give so freely in return. perhaps it’s my own fault. for lacking boundaries. for caring so much. for having so much love to give but not adjusting my expectations. it’s exhausting. i’m exhausted. but i don’t know how to stop. maybe if i accept that what im searching for and the kind of love i give is just not something im destined to have in return. then maybe i’ll stop pouring myself out for others and i’ll finally learn how to keep a little for myself.
sometimes i feel like a commodity. like every woman before me, i am something to be had. something to possess. i am someone who gives and takes care. i am the conductor who guides every note and rhythm of a shared life that doesn’t feel like my own. the harmonies of everyone else’s wants and expectations are deafening, crushing the soft melody of my cries of who is going to take care of me? who is going to consider me? what about what i want? __
instead it’s
“when will you give me grand babies?” “i can’t figure this out, can you do this for me?” “what are you getting dad for christmas and can it be from us too?” or walking into a home that’s not been abandoned, but simply left to rot until i cannot take it anymore. or bills left unpaid and blamed on me when i heard “i will pay this” verbatim from the lips of one who vowed to consider me. so i just
do. it. my. self.
because how can i tell a grown man
do you not see the jelly stains on the counter, surrounded by days old crumbs from meals i was not present for? or the laundry pile overflowing? how do i not make the dust that is gathering on the walls sound anything but trivial? how do you stand particles of dirt sticking to your feet when you cross the kitchen floor? what possses you to stay quiet when the dog food or the eggs or the toilet paper is almost gone - when you were the one who used the last roll or crack the last egg. __ __ maybe i am simply an enabler. maybe i am the issue. that i need to be more firm. not as much of a pushover. but i am so tired of communicating with brick walls and half present stares. i am tired of of coordinating and taking. care. of. e v e r y t h i n g. but myself. __ __ the worst part is i know if i were to choose myself i’d be met with glares of hurt or annoyance, or be told “well i didn’t know” when the answer was staring them back in the face. that i’d be seen as an incompetent wife or a woman who doesn’t value family. i am to give away every piece of me until there is nothing left. it is expected of me to create from nothing and then give it every last shred of love that i’ve tucked away for myself.
i am just. so. tired. __ __
there’s this aching, gnawing pain in the middle of my chest. it’s ever present. some days it’s gentle, and some days it’s not.
on gentle days, it’s a piece of me i hold close. a bittersweet whisper reminds me to cherish the memories i have and to live my days with intention and joy.
on the bad days, though, it’s suffocating.
on bad days it’s a raging tempest that threatens to swallow me whole, the echoes of everything that i’ve lost give me no reprieve. the ache becomes a sharp pain that steals my breath and saps any strength i hold. i never know what kind of day it will be. i am unable to predict whether my wounds will be tender and healing or if they’ll be open and raw.
lately, it seems every day is a bad day. i’m trying. i’m trying so hard not to be swallowed, but sometimes i wonder if i’ll get some peace if i let myself sink to the depths of my grief.
i know ill come out of it. i know ill breach the surface. but today is simply not that day.
you’ve heard me say _i am not good with words, _ i have a hard time getting them out. _i prefer to write. _
you have requested that i write for you moments of us.
and so, for you, i will write.
i will write about the day we finally collided in this lifetime how your hazel eyes penetrated my soul how the pull i felt to you was gentle, yet insistent. how at first i thought we would be fun. just some fun in a complicated and lonely life a life filled with emptying ourselves for the sake of others. i will write about how my breath caught in my throat when i first witnessed your smile and experienced your laugh how it stopped me in my tracks and quickly became my favorite melody in a cacophony of meaningless noise. i’ll replay for you the easy conversations we had, the conversations that made it so clear we are meant for so much more than temporary fun. i’ll remind you of how our connection became so evident. so obvious. as obvious as the sun’s love for the moon or the ocean’s need for the rivers that feed it. i will write write about how my soul sighed in relief when our lips first met and our bodies first found home. i’ll describe how i felt when our breathing synced and i became safe baring my skin and soul to you. that i felt so _right. i felt like i was home. _
i’ll do my best to tell you how i feel as if a thread is wrapped around the ribcage of my very being, connecting you and i through every universe and time our souls have traveled through to land us here_._ i will do my best to describe how you’ve unearthed a part of me that i thought lost. lost to time, lost to trauma, and lost to fear. i will tell you all about who i’ve become because_ you believe in me_.
i will write about what i think of you. i’ll stumble over words trying to explain how you hold the very essence of all that is _good and all that is fair and kind and gentle. _ __ i’ll spend hours struggling to explain how i admire you for who you are. for who you’ve become despite your trials and failures. and i’ll tell you how much i love you - not in spite of them but because of them. i’ll type and retype, over and over again to find the most perfect way to explain to you how much you mean to me. i will fail every single time because there are not enough words, nor are there the right words to use when telling you how much i adore you.
i will write about the dreams i lose myself in when sleep evades me. i’ll paint you a picture of little hands and feet leaving prints around a home we’ve built together. i’ll show you how i see myself being lucky enough to be present in the lives of the smiles you already have; how i’ll be honored to share the same space of those who held your hand before i did.
i’ll write about how i know that when my time comes, i will be ready. i will be ready for what comes after; what happens in the unknown. i will be ready because i know in the next life in the next universe in the next cluster of stars i will find you.
so, until then, i will write for you.
today i finally admitted it. to myself and to my soul i accepted the selfishness of how bad i want everything with you. i’ve known it for awhile now but never let myself really think about it. to play out exactly what i want in my head. to get lost in the absolute beauty of everything we can have and everything we can be. i’m finally letting myself write down exactly what i’m yearning for. i admitted to myself today that i want you and every single piece of what comes with you. i want your mess. i want your pain. i want your joy. i want your success. i want your fears. i want every single struggle and jagged edge of your being for the rest of the time we have on this planet. i want to be yours and you to be mine until we once again become the stardust that made us. i want to create life with you and then make a home in a world that’s entirely our own. to love each other freely and openly and to proclaim to the world _this is mine. _
i so desperately and selfishly want _to be _your everything. to be your calm in times of turmoil. to be the chaos you thrive on. to be the one who pushes you to be the best version of yourself. to be your shoulder to lean on and the flesh that you revel in and the home you find solace in. my god i want it so fucking bad i cannot breathe.
i want you. _i want us. _
“Who are you?”
This question rattles around in my head, bouncing off the walls of my skull like an incessant pingpong ball. I have been ruminating on it for longer than I’d like to admit, simply because it’s a question I can’t easily answer.
Who am I?
Well, I know my name. I know where I come from. I know my profession and my hobbies. But that doesn’t answer it, does it? In writing this I realize it’s not the question and answers themselves, it’s what’s behind them.
I am the personification of my heritage; fiery and playful, like the Irishmen that started my bloodline. I am analytical, fierce and have a work ethic second to none - a true descendant of the Nordic and Germanic Vikings that ravaged the ancient North.
The woman who raised me, though, shaped my being simply by being her. She raised me to be kind, nonjudgmental. Before leaving the house she’d tell me “make good choices!” in a singsong voice that told me she knew I would do my best to do exactly that. She nurtured a gentleness in my soul that balances the fire I stoke in my heart. I am soft. I love with my entire being and can feel the emotions of others as clearly as my own. My greatest weaknesses are also my greatest strengths. I think about the question now, and it’s easy to answer.
I am exactly who she raised me to be.
You and I lay skin to skin, the only barriers between our souls are flesh and bone. I can feel your heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The cadence of each beat keeps pace with mine. I listen and feel as the tempo of your breath soothes my restless heart. For eight years I’ve been a vagabond. I’ve been wandering through life, watching it pass me by without even realizing I wasn’t living. She knew me better than anyone and was my cheerleader. She pushed me to be better. In the eight years since since my mother crossed the mortal plane, I’ve been missing an integral part of my very being and haven’t even realized it. It’s been hiding with her ashes, deep beneath the waters of where she called home.
Until you.
I know I’d find that deep buried part of me eventually, but when? How long would I squander this life and settle for mediocrity while living unhappy? Too long. It would have been too long. You crashed into my life and reminded me what it’s like to live. You reminded me what it’s like to breathe and not be smothered. Laying on your chest and feeling our hearts beat in the sweetest synchrony is where I want my life to begin and to end.
I am home. __
tonight i am lonely.
the loneliness feels as if my chest will implode. it’s a pulling sensation, like an invisible rope is tied to my sternum that’s trying to pull my chest inward and crush my own heart. it’s an aching, sucking feeling. i can only describe it as so intense that i feel like i can’t breathe, can’t cry, and can’t wail. can the center of your chest feel nauseated?
it snuck up on me today. the lonliness was a silent and cloaked beast that was stalking me in my own shadows as i went about my day. i had no awareness of it until it brought me to my knees in the shower. i gasped as water poured over me and struggled to catch my breath. usually sitting in the shower and feeling the warmth of the water cascade around me was soothing, but tonight it felt as if it was pushing me into the floor.
the lonliness i feel is altogether familiar and foreign. i am used to the lonliness of missing who was 6 feet under. this is not new, as i have been dancing with it for almost 8 years. the lonliness i feel in my own home, however, is a painful admittance of something i feel i am failing at. but again, it’s not new and not unfamiliar. i can deal with these two breeds of lonely, but the other, not so much.
this new feeling though, this absence of my very soul i feel, is something so unemcumbered by experience that it has me feeling like a naive child. of course i’ve felt lonely before, but not like this. its antidote is 6 states away and yet close enough in connection that a simple text will connect me. a simple, instant message, but it still leaves me feeling empty. this emptiness can only be filled when i’m in his arms, i have realized.
i have accepted that this lonliness will have to live in tandem with my joy and my success. it’ll have to be roommates with the plethora of emotions that ebb and flow in my psyche. i suppose i can live with that. when i really think about it, this lonliness simply means that i am loved and that i love beyond measure.
to love is to live. i just need to remind myself that my lonliness is a reminder that i am alive and living. i am not just watching my life pass me by; and for that, i am thankful.
He turned on the shower, quickly testing the temperature with the back of a hand before flinging open the curtain. “Coming in?” he asked, eyes never leaving mine as he stepped into the rainfall of water. “I suppose.” My response came out more unsure than I had intended. How was it that a shower felt more intimate than the absolute debauchery we had just participated in did? This was not our first shower together, and would most certainly not be our last.
I stepped into the front of the tub, gripping his forearms simply to not lose contact with him. I positioned myself under the showerhead and tipped my head back, reveling in the hot water as I reached up to push back my hair. In one swift movement he pulled me to his chest. I laughed and wrapped my arms around his neck. Chest to chest we stood. It was an embrace that felt so _right. _Before I realized it was happening, our breathing had synched and I could feel his heart beat rapidly against my breast. The rhythm of both our breathing and fluttering pulses kept the tempo of what I had realized had become my favorite song.
Us.
I felt the corner of my lips tilt up and I watched his face mirror my own. His hazel eyes warmed, watching me simply enjoy his existence. “What?” His question was soft, almost statement-like. His eyes searched mine as words evaded me. I just smiled. I tightened my arms around him and I felt him sigh, as if relieved to be held closer. Looking into his eyes felt like looking into the windows of my home. I felt my soul settle. I observed every line of his face, desperate to know and to understand the way his skin rested on his cheekbones. Hungry to memorize how his lips can pull into a smile that stole my breath. My entire being was urgently committing his silhouette to memory as if it were as vital as the air I breathe. I could feel the words I so greatly wanted to say bubble up into my throat, only to get caught there. Words that felt all too big and yet not big enough to describe what I was feeling for him in that moment skipped my mouth entirely and shone from my eyes instead. I could feel the corners of them get hot while my vision blurred, and I hoped to whatever god was out there that the tears wouldn’t spill.
Water droplets clung to his eyelashes and to the tip of his nose. His eyes shone in a way that I was sure was similar to mine. In them I saw my own vulnerability and awe and _love _reflected back at me. My god was he the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. My god am I in love with him.
Sometimes words are almost too precious to be spoken out loud, so our souls simply whispered them for us.
I love you.
Intrigue Attentive gaze Smiles and conversations Immediate connection is felt Mutual attraction is easily confessed Indescribable pleasure brings two souls closer Feelings of lust evolve into something more Fast paced, deeply felt, entirely raw and real A connection so pure and undeniable takes hold now Walls have come down and the words have been said Soulmates, twin flames, red string, the fates, i love you too I can’t live without you. You never have to. Thank the gods