I've been playing with the idea of a series of short stories just to see what I can cook up, while they're not the best that you must have read I'm mostly doing it to test waters and see if i can actually pull off one.
I've named this series of short stories as Paper Mache Love. And this is the first one in the series.
I was sitting by her side, taking long slow drags of the cigarette and expelling the smoke slowly as if little by little with it's thick smoke the pain would leave my body too. We took turns with the slow poison. Was she burning away her pains? I never asked. She never told. She was wearing a Tantra tee with the long skirt that was tracing the silhouette of her body. Sometimes I've wondered does she even know how kind God had been to her while making her. Her cute face on a body that best can be described as a rock guitar was one of Gods game that he played on us humans. It was my pleasure to pleasure her body.
I've named this series of short stories as Paper Mache Love. And this is the first one in the series.
I. Love. You
I was sitting by her side, taking long slow drags of the cigarette and expelling the smoke slowly as if little by little with it's thick smoke the pain would leave my body too. We took turns with the slow poison. Was she burning away her pains? I never asked. She never told. She was wearing a Tantra tee with the long skirt that was tracing the silhouette of her body. Sometimes I've wondered does she even know how kind God had been to her while making her. Her cute face on a body that best can be described as a rock guitar was one of Gods game that he played on us humans. It was my pleasure to pleasure her body.
I flicked my wrist it's 11:00. I'd have to be up early tomorrow. But tomorrow can wait for now being by her side was more important. I thought I owed it to myself, to her, to us.
It was horribly obvious that we both felt what we were too afraid to say. I could see it in her big brown eyes and maybe she could feel the sentences like braille on my shivering skin.
I distinctly remember asking myself how I had arrived at that place. That vulnerable, debilitating place where self-doubt flourishes and the past resides. I had been painfully careful, impressively determined and steadfast in the protection of an already battered heart.
Yet there I was, about to say the three scariest words imaginable. The words that, at times, I've said all too easily or have left trapped behind gritted teeth. Words I've said and haven’t meant, said and absolutely meant, and said and have wanted to mean to the point of exhausting self-hatred. The words that've kept me from leaving, kept me from staying, and have kept me from unraveling more times than I care to admit.
I. Love. You.
While they’re sometimes overused and often abused, when used correctly, there’s no denying that those three seemingly simplistic words are the most dangerous, scariest, and otherwise treacherous words in the English language.
I love you can be a promise failed. A constant reminder of your once-overpowering naivety. As you contemplate saying those syllables just one more time, you’re unwillingly transported back to a bathroom floor where you said you couldn’t and you begged her to try and the only thing left of an “us” was a shattered picture of aborted happiness.
I love you can be a reminder of your flaws. Everything someone else decided was wrong with you comes barging to the surface, like the blood that forms a bruise you can’t hide. The times you weren't good-looking enough or put together enough or simply not “enough” highlight all that you’re lacking. All that you hope she doesn’t find lacking too.
I love you can mean complete vulnerability. Maybe not right away but eventually you’ll begin to rely on this person. You’ll call for them when you’re sick and you’ll cry on them when someone dies and you’ll rely on them when exhaustion takes its toll. You’re dangerously close to becoming accustomed to their presence so the threat of their indefinite absence becomes overwhelming. It’s not that you can't live without them. You can. You’ll just know that if it ever came to it, you wouldn't want to. And that want can paralyze you if it isn't reciprocated.
I love you can mean change. Sacrifices will be made and consistencies will be altered and the time you lovingly treasure as your own will be shared. You won’t sleep in the middle of the bed, you’ll pick a side and you won’t eat the sunny side up eggs you managed not to break, you’ll give those away. You’ll give pieces of yourself and your schedule and your space so that part of you can become an us.
I love you can mean complacency. What if you become a fixture in their scheduled life? What if you’re taken for granted like their bedside table or the light fixture behind that photo of her BFFs? What if you become too predictable, with your morning breath and your affinity for The Office? What if love gives way to comfort gives way to boredom?
Three simple words on the outside, but hold a complicated multitude of worries and doubts and fears and feelings that don’t have words.
Just like her eyes and the goosebumps on my skin.
I said I love you that night. After the failed promises and the flaws and the feelings of complete vulnerability subsided. After the threat of unavoidable change and horrid complacency diminished, something pushed me forward, like a trusted friend who whispers you’ll be okay and who you actually, against all odds, believe.
I said I love you.
Because the only thing scarier than saying it…
…is saying nothing.
I distinctly remember asking myself how I had arrived at that place. That vulnerable, debilitating place where self-doubt flourishes and the past resides. I had been painfully careful, impressively determined and steadfast in the protection of an already battered heart.
Yet there I was, about to say the three scariest words imaginable. The words that, at times, I've said all too easily or have left trapped behind gritted teeth. Words I've said and haven’t meant, said and absolutely meant, and said and have wanted to mean to the point of exhausting self-hatred. The words that've kept me from leaving, kept me from staying, and have kept me from unraveling more times than I care to admit.
I. Love. You.
While they’re sometimes overused and often abused, when used correctly, there’s no denying that those three seemingly simplistic words are the most dangerous, scariest, and otherwise treacherous words in the English language.
I love you can be a promise failed. A constant reminder of your once-overpowering naivety. As you contemplate saying those syllables just one more time, you’re unwillingly transported back to a bathroom floor where you said you couldn’t and you begged her to try and the only thing left of an “us” was a shattered picture of aborted happiness.
I love you can be a reminder of your flaws. Everything someone else decided was wrong with you comes barging to the surface, like the blood that forms a bruise you can’t hide. The times you weren't good-looking enough or put together enough or simply not “enough” highlight all that you’re lacking. All that you hope she doesn’t find lacking too.
I love you can mean complete vulnerability. Maybe not right away but eventually you’ll begin to rely on this person. You’ll call for them when you’re sick and you’ll cry on them when someone dies and you’ll rely on them when exhaustion takes its toll. You’re dangerously close to becoming accustomed to their presence so the threat of their indefinite absence becomes overwhelming. It’s not that you can't live without them. You can. You’ll just know that if it ever came to it, you wouldn't want to. And that want can paralyze you if it isn't reciprocated.
I love you can mean change. Sacrifices will be made and consistencies will be altered and the time you lovingly treasure as your own will be shared. You won’t sleep in the middle of the bed, you’ll pick a side and you won’t eat the sunny side up eggs you managed not to break, you’ll give those away. You’ll give pieces of yourself and your schedule and your space so that part of you can become an us.
I love you can mean complacency. What if you become a fixture in their scheduled life? What if you’re taken for granted like their bedside table or the light fixture behind that photo of her BFFs? What if you become too predictable, with your morning breath and your affinity for The Office? What if love gives way to comfort gives way to boredom?
Three simple words on the outside, but hold a complicated multitude of worries and doubts and fears and feelings that don’t have words.
Just like her eyes and the goosebumps on my skin.
I said I love you that night. After the failed promises and the flaws and the feelings of complete vulnerability subsided. After the threat of unavoidable change and horrid complacency diminished, something pushed me forward, like a trusted friend who whispers you’ll be okay and who you actually, against all odds, believe.
I said I love you.
Because the only thing scarier than saying it…
…is saying nothing.
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