My Words: The First Single

In the most unsettled times of my life, I've always turned to the page. My journal page or a fresh blog page, here or on any of the several others I kept before I opened this shop up. I would make sense of everything by writing.

It hasn't always been prose, and it hasn't always been pretty. It would probably make a lot more sense if I came to a blank page and just wrote the words that were twisting around in my mind. Put disjointed thoughts into complete sentences and used those sentences to create ideas and turned those ideas into steps I could take to make things make sense. But that's not always what happens.

Sometimes I just end up with an awful poem, or a vignette. Or some flash fiction even. Sometimes I end up with more questions than I started with. But I feel better when I write it. Even if it hurts to conceptualize, which I realize makes the least sense of all. I'm sure none of this is logical to most of you.

All this is to say that, as you may know if you were here yesterday, right now, my heart aches and my mind is still in a frenzy trying to really understand why. In truth, there really isn't much for me to do. In truth, I know that both of these men need to go back to where they came from and rejoin the land of jelly sandals and summer vacations — in my past. I know that repeating the past has never worked out well for me (my mom used to joke that she should call me Rerun for all the misguided second and seventh chances I gave people) and that some things just don't ever change. I know that I'm already seeing a ton of red flags and that even though I wasn't exactly "crushing it" to certain standards on the romantic front on Friday before all this happened, I was fine. I was certainly safer, more stable, and better off. I know all this.

And I'm fairly sure that for once I'll actually learn the first time and do what I know I need to do. I'm also partially sure that writing about it yesterday and in emails and messages with friends has helped me reach this place. I don't think it'll be simple to just revert back to where I was Friday, before either of those things happened, but I know that if I was able to dig myself out of the sort of places I've been in before because of my stupid heart, this'll be a piece of cake.

All this is also to say that before I had this blog, my blog alyssagoesbang 1.0 was a home for my adventures in creative writing. Mostly creative non-fiction, but also a good bit of flash fiction and experimentation in stream-of-consciousness. And while I realized after a while that that's not the kind of blog I want to run all the time, I do like putting some of that kind of stuff out into the universe. So I'm wondering if you guys wouldn't terribly mind if I post some different kinds of writing here every once in a while? If you're interested in seeing that side of me, of course. Thoughts?

I'm hoping it will help me to write in this style that I love (and really, really miss) a little bit more, having someplace to house it or share it that isn't just the inside of my own computer. I haven't workshopped my writing in over a year and have all but abandoned my plans to collect pieces like this to publish together (a project that actually reached about 50% completion before I banished it to the back corner of my mind and to-do list to sit and collect dust). So what do you think?

To give you an idea of what I mean, here's something I wrote back in January that has been seen by fewer than five people. Other than myself, only two were intentionally shown, one of them being the subject/addressee who asked me to write something for him; a third stole a peek without my knowing. Ack. But by making it public I'm partially hoping I can stop caring about that invasion of privacy. BUT I digress, whoops.

Here's a look at some of my words, if you're interested...
the only gift i could give you (2014)

i lose my words when i think of you. my sweet words, the sour ones too, the ones i’d use as armor and the ones i’d twist into melodies to try and move you. i can’t say these words to you, even when i know you want me to. i can’t use my words to arm myself against you when your words disarm me completely. do you know how it feels to be rendered defenseless by the break in your voice, the look in your eye, the way your body shifts to learn mine?

i wish i could wrap up a pretty package of letters and lines, of prose and rhyme to offer you, perhaps the only gift i could give you, one i know you want from me. how better to even the score? you give me your best and i’d do best to give you mine, but standing stripped naked and numb before you, my best is still falling behind.

i want to say something lovely, something pretty and perfect and prime, something to give you comfort, a smile, something that says all you want to hear and nothing to threaten your good life. i’d love to saunter up and drop sweet words in your lap, but no, if i’m honest, no, it wouldn’t be nearly enough. pretty words won’t do when i know you’d rather the truth; handing them over won’t do when i want to imprint them on you. 

couldn’t i just once use them to leave a mark? they won’t be pretty and they won’t be sweet, they’ll burn and pinch and bite and hurt. but they’ll be real and raw and every bit of me — don’t you use your words to tell me that’s the side you love to see? and if you can use yours to tie me up with doubt, fear, and some feeling like free, can’t i use mine just once to make things ugly? to brand your skin and let it be known i was here — not that i, not that me that everyone can see — the i, me you reach in and coax out for your eyes only.

i’d be gentle and sure and soothe each pain as soon as i left it. i’d tremble but only panic if you started to worry. and i swear i wouldn’t tell, not a soul, and no one would see. i’d smooth the edges with care so you and i are the only ones who know what words i left there, what they mean, and that you so carefully drew them out of me. i’d leave them with you for safekeeping, but i won’t lie, they’d be heavy to hold — and i’ve already laid with you a burden too great to bear alone.

so forget i said this at all — i don’t even know how much was true — and keep breaking and looking and shifting, and i’ll try to wade through the mess to find something for you, something better, something pretty and lovely and sweet.
_____________________

Before you ask, it's a metaphor.

Comments

  1. I would read anything you write - feel free to post any and everything! But that's just me, so feel free to not listen to me.
    Your words - that passage, metaphor, whatever you call it (sorry, words are not my skill) - are beautiful :) I thoroughly enjoyed reading that.

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  2. i will read anything you put here and i think you are far stronger than you realize. don't go back to the past, only grow from it.

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  3. I'm so in love with what you wrote! That was seriously beautiful and I won't read pages and pages of it! Thank you for sharing so much of yourself today! Holy wow, I loved it!

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  4. I'm sorry you're going through a tough time! I know from experience that being haunted by past relationships can be hurtful and confusing. It is really brave of you to put yourself out there, I hope it brings you some peace of mind! You really are such a beautiful writer.

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  5. ALYSSA. I want to read it all. Can you send me the link to your other blog? I love this so much.

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  6. Also in the "You are the best writer ever and I will totally read anything you write" camp! So sorry you're going through a tough time. Hope you get some clarity soon.

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  7. You are amazing and i would read it all! And I love the new look too :) I look forward to it all!

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