"A million miles away" titles a word document icon that lingers on my desktop.
The top right. I had never noticed it before.
Funny, I don't remember writing anything like that.
Curiosity and desperation to avoid testing material subdues me and I click.
Open.
I begin to read and am intrigued and slightly disappointed in the work I saw. I could clearly see the young writer I had been as I fumbled to find words that would accurately describe the times.
Properties.
When did this occur? Why did I write this?
Time stamp.
Ah yes.
It all came back now, just as the version of myself that had been saving me from me had, more likely than not, predicted.
But what I found funny was that I did not fall, spiral, or dive back into the contents anymore. I did not find myself tugging at the skin of my nails, nor seeking a way back into the twisted self I had been as I wrote these words.
I was disappointed with my work, not for what it represented, or the me I saw in it, but the bare quality of it.
A celebration ignited.
It was a movie I was not living anymore.
It was a ride I had so eagerly gotten off, and had no desire to be on anymore. I had grown tired of the loops and spins it took and became far too accustomed to the misery I felt as it turned upside down and whipped me back and fourth.
I glanced into each letter with resilience and beamed at each word they created. I saw the person I was in the title, the person I had become over the course of every line written, and saw me sitting there at the end.
If I had not been convinced over the last few months that I had truly grown apart from the person I saw sitting on that bed some eight odd months ago, writing such a silly titled poem, I was now.
Perhaps it was my hunger for dodging things of more relevant nature that brought me here with this stupid illusive document. Perhaps I am experiencing a genuine inspiration. What is un-debatable is that I feel it is a duty to myself to post what I had found, as it was, without the edits I am itching to make. It serves as a window into the past, and a testament to a bridge I had forever crossed and knew I would never return to. More than anything, it serves as a reminder that we are an unbreakable species, armed with an untapped hope and cosmic capacity for experience.
The girl that sat upon her bed with the inability to title a damned piece of work at 12:45 pm on a Thursday no less, would undoubtedly be proud of the girl who sat upon her bed now at approximately midnight procrastinating intensely, searching through her archives fearlessly, no longer phased by what she found.
He was a million miles away.
Next to me, but in another place
To touch my arm
he had to stretch
Not from my side
But where he was instead.
I felt the lingering distance
From his heart to me,
Together in the room
But no proximity
He may have appeared happy
But I saw a stranger's smile,
How odd to face that look
From someone you've known a while.
He sometimes went to the window,
To look out and reflect
But I know when he looked out there,
A huge part of him left.
I couldn't tell if this was new,
Or if I just now took notice
But when he turned to me right then
The one thing I now know is,
I don't know where he goes to,
I don't know his escape,
But I knew wherever it was,
It was a million miles away.
Perhaps I've seen what I wanted
And ignored what I didn't
But right then I saw him
And what I thought he is, he isn't.
He sat back down and pat my knee,
With limpness and unfamiliarity
The way he turned, locked into my eyes,
It seems neither he could recognize
The face he'd seen and loved and knew
For it was mimicking his same look.
We sat a million miles away,
Even though our shoulders grazed.
My mind was ablaze, a fiery mess
But as I sat there, you'd never have guessed
I tried to put on a familiar face
To hide my inner gloom,
But as I did this I realized
Neither of us were in that room
How could I reach someone
Whose physical presence was here
But one whose mind and heart
I would never be permitted near
I knew what I had to do
I know what it meant
We were doomed to break each other
By our hearts that had grown vacant
Because you can fight for someone,
With them and about them,
But when all the dust settles,
You'll have no fight left to love them.
Its hard letting them go,
It'll feel harder to be apart
But it helps to remember
they weren't there from the start
So pick up your heart darling,
It's not that they don't care
Its just you can't give someone love
If they wont have it there.
No sense in hurting,
No sense in worrying
You'll let go in time
No sense in hurrying
And when he's gone,
His absence completed
You'll come to realize
Its just what you needed
So when he's really a million miles away
And you're alone in your room
You'll see he never felt farther
Than when he was next to you.
