A series of unfortunate events that mimic one another and overlap, remaining inescapable. There are things you’ve tossed into the sea, a door closed and stuck fast shut in the hopes that the motion of letting go breaks the chance for anything to resurface. The close proximity makes your skin to crawl unpleasantly, like little angry ripples and you don’t know why the toxicity overwhelms you so. Is it that the broken fragments of the story have not fused how you’ve wanted them to; is it that curiosity to see what words may form on the page? It’s all very strange, and it oozes over your soul like a dark sludge of unchecked emotions. But why are you mad? Too often you sway across the spectrum of love and hate, and as your head spins with the nauseating experience, you can see it’s all one and the same. You can see something continuously falter, and any notion of supposed substantiality is only brought on by a lack of clarity. Yet certain orbits you cannot escape. This illusive muse that fills all the spaces between your words with their frightening brightness. And even these brief, starved moments of reprieve are short lived and somewhat false. You don’t really forget, it’s just their voice inside your head that has grown quiet for a time, and in between all the other echoes, unfortunately it grows louder out of nowhere as time passes. Who’s to say of what to leave? It’s as if they are a dark and uncharted object hurtling through life of its own accord. Somehow your paths spiral alongside each other here and there, nothing has to change and nothing said was earth-shattering. Still, this caused a little storm across the plateau of your soul and disrupted the dust that should have already settled, or what you told yourself had settled. It’s hard to see clearly, your vision blurs and the only vivid thing you can cling to is the blends of colours in their eyes. But is it this shimmering vision of what you think they are, just fragments of what you idolized them as? Still, certain orbits you cannot escape, and you are doomed to an endless spiral of unrequited love. It seems as if they mindlessly entered your inner circle for their own selfish endeavours, upheaving your sense of security. Efforts to conceal and distort your feelings seem futile now. The hairs on your arms stand erect as they pass you by. Your hunger for them returns, its ferocity surprising. You have to wonder if they know. Had their intentions ever been well-intended, nothing should have been said. But you cling to those quick words shared on neon-coloured sand, and like that innate psychic bond, you knew what was to follow. So well can you read them, that strange and unspoken understanding- you always knew. The comfort that flows between you, nothing needs to be said. There’s something to say of these forlorn connections. What kind of love is stronger than the rest, though? This dance was brief, it was heavy and unpleasant. It magnified the ugly facets of yourself, your fear of abandonment. There was much risk, you opened your chest whole and the vulnerability you had caged in began to flood out before you in frightening waves and a life of it’s own. Fearless movements overtake us in these confusing times, and perhaps your boldness pushed them away. In each of us is a shred of fear for honesty, but its a shame to waste a bold heart on someone who can’t accept these raw parts of yourself. Why do we crave them so much? If something had truly stirred within them after this stretch of time, why do they lack the fierceness to face you? The deeper question is, why does this again uproot everything you were trying to hold onto? These two opposing forces pull you in different directions. What are you truly craving? Is what you feel truly worth the sacrifice? In the end, you know you could never really rest easy with your heart in their hands. Despite the moments where your fingers brushed theirs, despite the ease and excitement you felt from the tiny crevices of their skin, the soft colour of them a grey sky illuminated by the not-yet-risen sunshine. Here and there you know you may catch a glimpse of something in their eyes, the longing to fall into each other may resurface. You may feel the nearness between you two a warm welcome to an old home you didn’t know you missed. And you will feel the wall that was always there between you because of how things are and what separates you. You will remember that open, warm smile that caught you off guard, you will still wonder what it meant. You will remember the secrets they hide, suspended between the two of you as a dark cloud of mistrust. You will remember that you could never see them clearly, something always swam below their surface that made you uneasy, and that beyond the natural movements that brought you two closer, something dark always lingered. That foreboding sense of wanting to see inside of their soul while you know that peering into the void would reflect back at you something that you couldn’t bare to see. You were afraid to perhaps one day fall into an empty vessel with the whole of you, and when you thought you could finally look back in faith, they would have disintegrated. This loves never clears your eyes. The harder you search for their light, the darker the horizon becomes. This you’ve always known. The false sense of security that blanketed you; their smiles in which your pupils could not dilate wide enough to eat, the way the thought of tugging on their earlobes made you laugh, the ink under their skin that looked like yours, the way you felt alone with them even on a crowded brimming with other bodies, the way their voice hit sweet notes as they spoke your name, the way you felt at home. Maybe they didn’t want to tell you what they really felt because of that wall, or maybe it was just that night and they were lonely.
In the end, some orbits one cannot escape. All we can do is brace ourselves and let it pass.