Words of Ice

In a cold, winter flurry of words, I will end up dying like the little matchmaker – thinking that if I’m finally okay, because my body doesn’t hurt as much as it did – but what’s really happening is that I’m slowly freezing to death.  I just don’t notice the cold, even though it’s slowly stopping my heart. 

Lay down, Anne Marie.  Let the words warm you up. 

Except the words aren’t warm.  They don’t have flesh.  They’re just excuses – distractions – for actual human interaction.  Because I can’t have who I want, I surround myself with a scratchy, stiff wool blanket of words.  And the worst part is that my words probably pushed that person away.  I tried to surround him with all my verbal nonsense, because it’s the only way I know how to be.  I drowned a man of few words in an ocean of my thoughts.

I fucked that up.

But.  When your best friend is doing something stupid or fucked up or mean or indifferent, you should be able to tell them.  That respect should go both ways.  I want to be told what’s up, otherwise how am I going to fix myself?  How am I going to be a better person, if no one is brave enough to be honest to my face and say, “hey, bitch, stop it”?  I might be mad for a second, but I’ll get it eventually. 

Just love me for ME; don’t cut me off because of what I’m NOT.