sufjan stevens – to be alone with you
Month: May 2010
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night.
i don’t know what i’m doing but i can’t help it.
these nighttime footsteps aren’t going to cure anything. they’re probably making things even worse.but i can’t help looking for another detour, trying to stay out for as long as i can, turning away from a path homeward bound.
breathing night air, the blinding city lights, they make me feel like there’s something more to all this. maybe i’m a part of something bigger.
or maybe i just need an escape.
and i walk through the night with my headphones in my ears and notice all the people and the cars and the little open-late shops, but they’re nothing more than a blur.
i am a part of this blur.
the night cradles me, comforts me by whispering in my ear, ‘it is not tomorrow yet.’
i still have time before i face another day. there is still this quiet – yet not so quiet – darkness.
and i lose myself in it.
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no, you cannot take me out to coffee. i don’t care how many times you ask.
i don’t understand why you’re so stubborn.
what can possibly be so hard to understand about the words ‘no thanks’?i don’t want to get to know you.
i don’t want you to get to know me.i may be smiling when i turn you down, but it doesn’t mean i’m happy.
it doesn’t mean i’m playing hard to get.
it doesn’t mean i secretly want you.i. do. not. want. you.
just get over it.
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questions.
it’s when you start asking the bigger questions, that’s when it starts to get scary. you start wondering, “what’s the point?” and then things fall apart and you’re going in one direction and there’s no turning back.
what am i working towards?
why am i so damn unhappy?and it kind of eats away at you – at your insides, somewhere hidden away, somewhere secret – and you feel hollow and empty. everything changes and you’re left wondering and questioning and searching; searching for something that’ll make you smile.
what would happen if i died right now?
would i have been able to say that i truly – with every fiber of my being, truly – lived?you become introspective and you just stay like that, absorbed and lost inside yourself, in the recesses of your mind. and the worst part about it is you can’t confess to anyone because you don’t know how. i can’t even say it properly myself. words get lost too easily. they stray from what you want people to hear.
but i am not lost like this. i can find my way. there is a point to all this. everything is worth it. this is life. i am alive.
i. am. not. lost. like. this.
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i spilled maple syrup on my keyboard and now it’s irreparable.
my life just keeps looking up.
and now i will take a nap, wake up at 2 am and
WORKWORKWORK.
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there is a tension here i cannot cure. almost tangible and absolutely frightening.
don’t you know how scared i am? of the future? of the present? of the here and now and the glances in my direction that tell me i’m a lost cause?
i’m sorry i drifted. and i’m sorry i can hurt you from miles and miles away and i know you don’t deserve this. and i’m sorry i’m too stubborn, too proud to say this to your face, because i love you even if sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. i love all of you and i don’t know what to do.
is it too late to fix things?
will summer air clear our lungs?i am unforgivable, and the greatest tragedy is that there is no turning back. trust and hearts are broken now, and tonight, i stare at blank pages and see things that are supposed to be written, but never will be. and even when you tell me it’s okay, and all is forgiven, i know they’re not. scars like this don’t heal so easy. sometimes they don’t heal at all.
there is a disconnect between us now. i am tentative to speak and i am bound in my own household.
tell me, where did i go wrong?
when i tried to cease the day?
when i started grasping at smoke?my existence is a selfish one.
carpe diem, carpe omnious.
cease the day, take it all.
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i live my life in a state of perpetual fear.
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ice.
dug up one of my old journals today and found this excerpt:
04/22/09 – 5:31am
i don’t like the idea of investing myself in other people, depending on someone else to be happy. it seems almost weak to me. i hate feeling vulnerable. i much prefer the idea of ‘the ice queen.’ ethereal in her beauty, she’s unattainable in her indifference to the world. everybody wants her but she sends roaring chills their way, freezing them all out.
perhaps i just enjoy the idea of being coveted. i fear relationships but at the same time, it’d be nice to be in one. have a companion to help with the bad times. nobody really wants to be alone. but i don’t want to be weak either.
i’ve put up guards and walls and a cautionary chill. i abhor vulnerability and shed weakness like old skin. independent. alone. ice cold.
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do i confuse you? do you worry about me sometimes? do you think about me at all? when you’re lying there alone, staring up at your ceiling, listening to something obscure; some band you can name that i can’t. you like that feeling, don’t you? you say i’m too smart for you and you like it when you know i’m not. i don’t intimidate you any more. i don’t have you under my spell anymore. but whatever, you don’t have me under yours either. i’m scratching you off like an annoying scab, and maybe i’ll bleed a little, but i’ll get over it. i always get over it, but only because i have to. this is your fault; we could’ve been something, but this is your fault. we could’ve been magic and this is your fault. but i’m sorry. i’m sorry for all the touches i won’t forget and the eyes that’ll pierce through me somewhere in the silence, and the little hesitation when i hear your name. but to hell with all of this. i regret nothing. this is your fault, and i’m the one who’s sorry, but only for a little while. i’m not broken. you didn’t break me. summer will breathe new life into me, and come september, i’ll rise from these ashes, wholly new and perfect.
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dining fine, sipping wine.
had dinner at the wongs’ yesterday (photospread coming up) as liz was gracious enough to invite me over. hannah, her father and her cousin were there too, so it was a kind of joint wong-nakawatase thing going on (a regular occurrence, if i understand correctly); i was the welcome intruder.
dinner with the wongs is always great; the food is always good. that night was a carnivore’s dream (although mama wong insisted on giving me veggies, salad and potatoes); juicy steak, DELICIOUS lamb chops….i was absolutely dying, and by the sounds she was making next to me, hannah had reached nirvana or something. wine was poured into our glasses and we spent about 10 minutes appreciating and complimenting it; that was some damn good wine.
oh, to dine with the rich.
michael buble played softly in the background and i was one of the first people to clean my plate; a feat that i was heartily congratulated on and had earned me a permanent invitation to the wong dinner table.
after dinner, liz, hannah and i made our way to the balcony where we grabbed pillows and a blanket, lit some candles, put on some music and created an ambiance of romance in growing dark. i was supposed to meet john for a movie at 10:10, but the two ladies convinced me that i couldn’t possibly make it back in time, so i had to ditch those plans. curse those two vixens for proving me so fickle. but as it was, i’d already watched the trotsky and the cool night air was some kind of magic so i not-so-secretly didn’t mind staying.
we talked about love and life before heading back for dessert (amazing christmas pudding with special rum sauce) and after that, back to the balcony for more fresh air heart-to-heart-ing.
hannah (reluctantly) left shortly after that so liz, her sister steph and i watched a painfully indie film called ‘toronto stories’ which i kind of enjoyed.
i left after that and headed to mary’s and we caught up a bit before i headed home.
made it back at around 3 a.m, got naked and collapsed on my bed; it was a hot night.
