You, I, Us

February 4, 2012 § Leave a comment

depersonalization- is an anomaly of the mechanism by which an individual has self-awareness, anxiety symptom often related to trauma

depersonalization-fancy psychological term which should not be granted too much authority

Mind, Body, Soul.

I am talking to you as I lie on the bed, the couch, the floor. My voice is hardly a whisper because you are strangling my throat. My mouth is slack, the air is coming in, going out, coming in. You squeeze harder, your hands are turning red and your knuckles white, but I am speaking. To you. To you while I clutch my stupid fists to withstand the pain. We are supposed to be friends, more like friends. This is the not the way this is supposed to be. We are supposed to be One. You are supposed to be my haven, my safe place. We are lifelong partners in crime.

But here I am on the floor with tears in my eyes and I’m looking at you, running my hands over every part of you and this is the way it is. I have been betrayed. Or are you the innocent victim, for whom I should have infinite compassion? My brain is bogged down with your concerns. Where do yours end, and mine begin?

I wish I knew.

Because you are my body. The body I was given. And this body has failed me and lifted me up. Barely out of the womb, barely here, barely before one breath could join with all others in an age-old atmosphere, you failed. You sputtered, you sputtered, but you did not die. Hospitals, waiting rooms, flashing lights and yells and darkness. Sputter-ing, sput-tering. Men and women in white coats touched You, wondered at You, grabbed with urgency and held with comfort. And You were just there, innocently, as if You didn’t know what all the hubbub was about, and You wore my face.

And then You survived. In a way. An illusion of normal, an illusion of nothing out of the ordinary, an illusion of fine. But to me you were Stranger. I looked in the mirror and that’s just what I saw, You, not Me. I saw fingers and toes and nose but not Me. I didn’t get to grow into you. Or do we ever? I don’t know. There was You, there was Me. I wanted togetherness, I wanted unity, I wanted wholeness, but You were stubborn and so was I and I didn’t know You and we were like two awkward children who fall in love and never say it aloud. They grow old and they die and the unspoken love drags them to the depths. Two souls intertwined at opposite ends of the Earth.

And then there was that night in the basement of that house on the corner where we became ever farther, You and I. Because You were there and he made You His Own and where was I? You were on the couch and on his lap and I was in the corner, shaking and crying and dying. You and I.

I tried to become closer to You, I tried to make us One. I hurt You because maybe the hurt would make us One, would cross the Earth, the air, the space, the time. Battle Scars in the war for Myself. Fighting in the midst of gunfire, smoke stinging my eyes and death ringing in my ears and screams shattering my heart.Feel the weight, heat of a weapon in callused fingers and search for souls to save and souls to destroy but find nothing, nothing, nothing, smoke. Black. Heat. Battle. Battle for Me. Battle for I. But it was not on the field, the streets, the open. The battle was in the bathroom on the edge of the tub. The battle was in my fingers, in my heart.

But just as war solves no problems for the world, it solves nothing for Ourselves. We are left bleeding and wounded and we were ever farther, farther apart. I cried for You. I cried for the loss, surrender of I.

And finally, finally I was done, finished, extinguished and we lay together, collapsed and exhausted. You on top of me, on my chest and I could no longer breathe, and I stopped talking, stopped speaking, I gave up, gave in, let go. I settled for estrangement, for disembodiment, for less than Self.


Time is a funny thing. It makes things farther and it makes thing closer. It does not move in one direction. It goes back and forth, it reverses and it speeds up and it stops. And when Time happened, You took a step. Or I did. I suppose it doesn’t matter, because we were no longer on opposite ends of the Earth. We were on opposite ends of the Earth, give or take a few countries. And that mattered.

Some days I wander away from You, and some days I tiptoe, and some days I run. And even though often we are distant, sometimes we truly are One, and it is ecstasy. I am okay when we are far, because soon we will be close.

I Hate You. I Love You.



I Love You.




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