A page from my journal
It's often in the mornings when I flash back. I wake up and the bed I'm in is not my own. The sheets are stiffer, not as soft, the comforter not down. There are no extra blankets nor is the fan whirring above head. My comforts. Comforts I bring to any room. Things of mine always smell sweeter too. Maybe it's my lotions or oils but the difference is notable. Curled on my right side my hair knotted on top of my head, I closed my eyes to sleep. The television was on. I thought I'd pay attention for a while until I drifted. I prefer quiet in my bed. This one was different.
Kisses on my neck then shoulder, I roll onto my back. The television illuminates the room. Artifacts from a past life line the walls. Awards and diplomas. I scan only for a moment before I completely drown in this bed. On the nightstand behind, a box that sat unopened and untouched. Submerged below with me is my judgment. That always happens and it's not necessarily a bad thing.
I can't tell up from down when he's kissing me. Even now when I remember, I lose all touch with present experience and my body becomes one giant nerve ending. Lips touch the skin in between my thumb and index finger. Small things. They feel like big things. I'd lost that in the friendship. Wondered if comfort had replaced butterflies, but no, they still exist. Even after all this time. Always.
I go back everyday. And I want to tell you. But as we exist in our limbo I don't know the rules. I don't know if that's the sort of thing you want a break from. The thing is, I am of the belief that those things should be shared. But we have tiptoed into unfamiliar territory. We have never existed here in this way before. Lines crossed and blurred, everything before us in shades of gray.
And I'm not sure how to tell you or if I even should. How vivid the memories are and how they haunt me. I'd never been so nervous to tell you anything before. Well just the once. But this...and now considering everything, I wasn't sure if it was right. But it didn't feel wrong, it felt honest. I had to stand on the edge of the cliff and ask myself if I could live with not jumping?