love, let me sleep.

I miss you.

Mon, 20 May 2013 03:10:57 +0100

I miss you.

i’m sorry, followers. my dad got diagnosed with cancer and then my fiancé left me. and then i...

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 10:22:00 +0100

i’m sorry, followers.

my dad got diagnosed with cancer and then my fiancé left me. and then i ran away to florida to watch the sunsets. and i just couldn’t write anymore. i couldn’t write about it.

and now i’m back and i’ve moved to manchester and i’m studying for a degree and i’m running away to florida again at christmas. but my thoughts from the last 10 months are all written down in these weird little stumbling faltering tumblr drafts, 128 of them, and on notes in my phone, and i don’t know whether i want the world to know what i’m feeling anymore. or what i felt.

but i’m getting there. i’m almost happy. and when i’m done and finished getting happy i think i can write.

me & mtn dew go way back when. (by Felicity JC.)

Fri, 24 Aug 2012 04:42:10 +0100

me & mtn dew go way back when. (by Felicity JC.)

Video

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 13:58:00 +0100

“i left my heart with my phone in my centre console, i...

Sun, 29 Jul 2012 01:19:00 +0100

“i left my heart with my phone in my centre console, i left my feelings with my wallet & my keys. i feel so stupid because i came here without anything, but a day’s worth of bitching goes down the drain when you lay in my bed & pick my brain”.

a slightly different version (tipp-ex out the name and this could be to anyone).

Sun, 29 Jul 2012 01:01:00 +0100

for now, at least.

to be honest i don’t feel like any of my letters have held any substance. for the last six months i haven’t really been able to evaluate how i feel enough to put it on paper. on my blog. anywhere.
but i’m sure you know how that feels.

now that i don’t really have anybody i don’t feel like anybody really knows me at all. which brings this whole new level of loneliness that i don’t think i’ve ever felt before. and also a whole new level of exhilarating.
i expect you know that better than most.

being scared of that level of loneliness is the reason i started writing a blog. the reason i became a member of the website where i met you. now it’s the opposite. i’m scared of admitting my feelings honestly to anyone. i avoid it. stay as non-commital as possible. shrug it all away.
so here i am writing again, and to write again i have to start with you.

i felt like to keep you in my life i had to hide it all away. at least for now. then for now became forever. and you became anyone. and now i’m sick of it.
i used to trust you more than anyone.

you know when you went to london and i said i didn’t miss you? i’ve never missed you the way i expected to. i never experienced that heat shaped, ripping knife feeling i’ve had before. it’s a slow, dull ache within the very arteries of my heart.
one that i would feel even if you were standing in front of me.
it’s with me when i talk to you, and sometimes it seeps through and for that i’m sorry. it’s an ugly colour and it’s not a shade i like on me.

but that’s why even though i’m spending the next month in your country, i can’t spend it with you. i can’t even see you. because that ache that drums inside my head, i’ve learnt to live with it. i’ve learnt to manage it. it’s as familiar to me now as wearing my skin. but i don’t know how much louder it will get when i cross that sea. i don’t know how close to the surface i’m willing to touch.

and it’s not because you’re Z, it’s not because you’re the love of my life, it’s because you aren’t. that’s what breaks my heart.
i know you can’t help it. i know you can’t be him right now. i know that you might never be. and that’s OK. i probably comprehend that in ways you can’t even imagine.

but for me to accept that. for me to get to a place where it was okay. i had to imagine that you were dead. that that person had died, wasn’t coming back, and it’s left a numbness i don’t know if anybody can imagine.

so no. i won’t fly an extra 1,000 miles because you’re Z. no, it wouldn’t break my heart. because right now it’s so untouchable it can’t be broken.
i literally don’t know how someone could get close to me anymore. i try and i love them, but there’s a certain place i just can’t reach. you broke me. this broke me. and that’s something i’m not ashamed to admit to anyone.

but higher up than this, i don’t think it would help you to see me. and as much as i would like to be there for you through this, there’s certain ways that i can’t. and that’s OK too.

you’ve done things you regret, i’ve done things i regret. i’ve tried to move on in ways that even you would be ashamed of. but please don’t be under the misconception that you know me. or anything about my life. because right now you don’t. nor does anybody, although some people like to assume they do.

maybe someday you will, again. i hope you do. but for now all you need to know is that i’m OK. i’m different, but i’m OK. and i’m still here for you whenever you need me. because i still love you. maybe not in the same way, but i do.
and i do understand and i try to understand more than you know.

you are possibly one of the last people in my life that i will ever love, and i won’t let go of that. but i can’t promise you will ever know me again.
i know this letter hasn’t said much in terms of literals, but i hope it’s said enough.

as for the key i only wanted it back so i could throw it in the mississippi. and i change my mind about that every day.
i don’t know if it belongs to anybody anymore. or if i even believe in it. but i’m glad it’s safe.

you were a good person, Z, and you and i both know you can be again. actions don’t always say it all. though they don’t say nothing, either. what you missed is i don’t know who i am, i don’t know if i can be there for anyone either. all i know is that i miss my best friend.

stay safe, take care. always.
F.

gerard way, 1990. (by Felicity JC.)

Tue, 24 Jul 2012 21:10:58 +0100

gerard way, 1990. (by Felicity JC.)

Tue, 17 Jul 2012 11:06:21 +0100

i missed you today. i missed you for all the reasons you’d want...

Tue, 17 Jul 2012 05:41:00 +0100

i missed you today. i missed you for all the reasons you’d want me to miss you, and none of the reasons not.

maybe it’s because somebody mentioned the night we met. or maybe it was just the shins on the radio. but i remembered you standing on the stairs and calling me beautiful. you could have said that to every girl that stood on that step, but it doesn’t matter because you said it to me. when i watched you walk away that night i wondered if i was meant to follow.

then every memory ruptured like the body of a pill and my mouth tasted sweet again. remembering a time when you didn’t care that i called at two in the morning, because my knee was bleeding, and my palm, and i was walking through a london park just itching to speak. when i called you drunk and foolish and you stuttered at the end of the phone. when i didn’t invite you to the ball, then spent the night missing you.

i don’t know what it means to miss you after two years. i don’t know why i miss you more than most. but i think the hook that got me here was that somewhere beneath those pussy-soft doe-brown eyes you knew what it was to be alone. everything about you was punk but your eyes.

somewhere along the line i got too caught up in the details. the kick in my gut when i told you i’d done something as you walked through the door, & the first place you looked was my wrists. the feeling of your scars against my kiss. the number of girls who’ve been between your legs. it’s not for me to decide.

you weren’t the first who wrote. the first i loved. the first who hurt. you weren’t the first to lick my wounds, to fuck me soft and senseless, to kiss me at midnight. but you were the first time i took a chance. stood bold, flailing and naked calling you on your doorstep.

you understand the balance between nostalgia and regret. you understand that just because you’re searching the horizon for ships that have sailed and sunk, doesn’t mean you’re combing the beach for a shipwreck. you might just sit there with a palahniuk novel, and watch the sun set.

you told me fairytales and read me books in bed. you cooked me endless meals, held hours of actual real conversation. you noticed the song lyrics the same time i did, commented on them before i could. you knew exactly when i needed tea. you understood my taste in music, my taste in film, my taste in books. when i needed a moment alone, & when i wanted you to come with me and watch the stars. you were the first and last person i loved who i hadn’t met on the internet. you introduced me to your family of friends. you were romantic, and you cared. even when it didn’t come naturally. even when it was awkward. even when it was hard.

i remember times during the whirlwind of mentally sick haze when it stopped to ask me “why are you doing this? this could be everything that you have ever wanted. why are you doing this?”. but there are parts of me that you never understood. these things. these wonderful things. they won’t be considered remarkable to most. in fact they may be taken for granted. but to me they were shiny. new. i’d never had them in a friend, let alone in you. and there’s still a faltering honesty in your behaviour i haven’t had since. i felt safe in it. the most unstable i’ve ever been, and i felt safe.

and as i sealed my thanks but no thanks to the university of bristol that second thought punched me in the stomach with a sick sparkly whirl of romanticism, rainbows, and regret.

but then i remembered the contempt you could hold for me in those deep, brown eyes. that i matter more, now that i’m gone. and i forgot.

i walked away.

“sometimes, we’ll be in the same place at exactly the same time, & i can almost...

Mon, 16 Jul 2012 07:45:00 +0100

“sometimes, we’ll be in the same place at exactly the same time, & i can almost hear her voice. it’s like i’m touching her. i like to believe she knows i’m there. that’s all you get. moments with the people you love.”

Channelling kurt cobain (in a stolen t shirt). (by Felicity JC.)

Mon, 09 Jul 2012 02:19:22 +0100

Channelling kurt cobain (in a stolen t shirt). (by Felicity JC.)

"albert camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not. tom robbins..."

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 22:40:27 +0100

“albert camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not. tom robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm. there is only one serious question. & that is: who knows how to make love stay? answer me that & i will tell you whether or not to kill yourself. answer me that, & i will ease your mind about the beginning & end of time.”

“and on the worst days when it feels like life weighs ten...

Thu, 05 Jul 2012 01:39:00 +0100

“and on the worst days when it feels like life weighs ten thousand tonnes, i sleep with my passport on the bed stand, so i can always run. come morning i am disappeared, just an imprint on the bed sheets.”

detroit, MI. the house of forgotten homes.

Thu, 05 Jul 2012 00:02:00 +0100

This song is for Felicity at loveletmesleep. We’ve been chatting...

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 07:45:00 +0100

This song is for Felicity at loveletmesleep. We’ve been chatting about life and love, and I’ve been reading her blog, and I was inspired to write about trying to get over an old love. She never said this is something she desires, but the words we’ve shared made me remember when I was trying to shake someone out of my mind. It wasn’t easy. I lost a lot of sleep. But she finally left, and someone else came to occupy my mind. Tonight, writing this song for Felicity, and remembering her…well, she made me lose sleep again, for old time’s sake. Thanks for reminding me of her and some good memories, Felicity. Enjoy the music, friends. — K.C.

Love, Let Me Sleep

Feel it through my words:
your truths you cannot hide.
Your lies made good company,
but such friends are not shy.
See it through my eyes:
the glow I put around you.
And you turned off the light
to be a shadow of yourself.

Love, let me sleep. I want to dream
of better days, without you.

Listen through my ears
to the sound of your voice:
the one sound I trusted
to never leave.
Read it across my face
like the letters I sent across the ocean
to your hands,
the same hands that once held me.
CHORUS

reblogging the absolutely lovely KC, who wrote a song for me. i’ve never felt so special. give it a listen and his blog and gorgeous voice some attention.

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 07:24:00 +0100

emails to my mother (re: as far as i'm concerned i no longer have a daughter).

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 07:06:34 +0100

we went through this entire charade years ago and i have no interest in repeating this pattern of behaviour with you. it wasn’t healthy for either of us then, and it’s not now. i really thought that we were past this, and it has really disappointed me to be in this situation again, after so many years of working on our relationship.

i don’t wish to fight with you, then be ignored by you, then receive a list of demands from you, have you feign a familial relationship with me for a short time until your demands are met, have you sabotage any attempts i make to control my own life, then rinse and repeat the process. that isn’t a healthy relationship, and although you may achieve a sense of gratification from it due to the control that it gives you, i do not.

one of your favourite phrases is that you “only want me to be happy” but the actual definition of this seems to be that you only want me to be happy doing the things that you feel are correct and appropriate. when i do something outside of this strict definition you cannot resist getting up on your soapbox and preaching to me about how terrible my behaviour is, until i feel guilty for it, even if that behaviour actually contributed to my overall happiness.

you don’t actually know me very well. you’ve spent so much of my life focussing on what i am not, and trying to mould me into the person that you think i should be, that you haven’t spent a huge amount of time trying to find out who i am.

you have no authority over me apart from the authority that i designate to you as a family member, and it’s hard to give you any of that authority when you aren’t acting like one. when our relationship is like this you don’t give me advice, you set me a list of goals that is impossible to complete. no recognition is given for the tasks that are completed because in the time that it’s taken to achieve one, you’ve already set several others. it’s an endless unhealthy treadmill that i got off years ago and i don’t wish to get back on. i’m sorry.

i tried so hard to fix this. i’m going to miss you.

"if you’re dating a writer and they don’t write about you, whether it’s good or..."

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 06:25:00 +0100

“if you’re dating a writer and they don’t write about you, whether it’s good or bad, then they don’t love you. they just don’t. writers fall in love with the people they find inspiring.”

damaged goods.

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 06:17:00 +0100

“she forced a smile, said, “boy, come kiss my mouth. you know that hope you’re holding to? it looks an awful lot like fear. now you’re so quick to fall on failure, so quick to raise your voice. you had an option. i was your chance to feel complete. but when i leaned in close to you, you kissed your fear, instead of me. you had my hand in your hand, you had my lip in your teeth, you had my heart on your sleeve, you had a chance to breathe. but boy, you wouldn’t let your fear recede. so i moved on. it’s too late to change your mind. now you got scared, boy, and i got gone. now you failed, and there’s no way to turn back time. you had your chance, boy, i tried.”

“you tried?” i looked her in the eye, and smiled, “my girl, you must understand that fear is not some product that i made. it crept unwelcome in my head the day they had her torn away. it changed me. now at the end of every day i lie awake at night & wait to feel the wires of my brain get cut, and quietly rearranged, and hear my heart beat exclaim. still, i refuse to let her go.

so we escape to our mistakes, for they wait patiently for us. they always wait for me. if my fear has kept me here, only my fear can set me free. and i’m sorry, dear, but don’t you dare speak another word. how could i risk holding your heart in me, while still in love with her?”“

i was heading home. i was on my way to the airport.

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 05:22:00 +0100

X: you came back.
O: i tried not to. i went on dates. i had a lot of great, first dates with guys who were planning to stay guys. but, you know, you have a great date and you want to go and tell your best friend about it. and my best friend is him. her. and then you have a few bad dates, and… she’s my best friend. she knows me. she loves me. she’s my boyfriend. at the end of the day. it’s her. even when she hurts me. even when i hate her.
X: she’s who you want to talk to.