Archives for posts with tag: Seattle

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You said the most cliche things of all the day we said goodbye. “It’s not goodbye, I’ll be seeing you again.” In the moment, it seems so sweet and sincere, but as you look back at it now, you realize it was only as I said before- a cliche thing. I haven’t seen you since and your voice has become yet another distant memory.

Sometimes I remember the way you smiled so largely as I walked through the airport terminal, seeing you for the first time in months. I was nervous and that nervousness made me hesitate at the sight of you. I can think now of how cute you looked, standing there, smile and all, but during that moment I felt nothing, but scared. 

If I were to see you yet again, I wouldn’t know what to do. Should I embrace you, as I wish I had done at the airport? Or would I simply walk away without a word, as I should have the last time we broke.

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Let us start from the end; the end as we know it. The weather hadn’t been too bad; the sun for once wasn’t being too stubborn with its sunshine, but as we walked outside of your apartment and to my car, little drops of rain started sprinkling down. It was as though the rain was waiting for my departure before it came to gloom on this city. I kissed you goodbye, not knowing when the next time we would see each other would be. I kissed you goodbye many times; each time I turned to walk to my car I had to turn back for one more. It was harder to leave you this time than the time I first left, when I thought I would never be coming back at all. Perhaps that why it felt easier then, I thought it would be the end of everything; I was going to move away and never think about you again, but I came back and spent every day in your cozy apartment. Perhaps it is harder to say goodbye this time because no part of me wants to leave again; I want to stay right here with you.

Somehow I am able to make it all the way to the car and I look back at you, standing in the drizzling rain. I think to myself that there is the man of my dreams, except he is a reality. I force a smile on my face all the while my heart feel it is emptying all of its contents out onto the street, where it will wait for my return. The car starts instantly, though I held my breath secretly hoping it wouldn’t start at all. We give each other our final wave goodbye before I make myself focus on the street ahead of me. I drive as slow as I can, refusing to believe that I won’t be coming back here tomorrow. So this is the end, isn’t it? The end as we know it. I begin to wonder what is the purpose of my life, anyway. I will be going back home to the usual routine, wasting days away working alongside my own loneliness. Then I think to myself that this is where I need to be; and though I can’t turn the car around, I will try to get through each day until I get another kiss hello.

The air felt cold and fresh when it hit my face. The plane ride was only two hours long, but it felt like two centuries. I had music to serenade me, hoping it would calm me down; calm my heart, calm my heart, calm my desire. If you guessed that it didn’t help a damn thing, you would be right. Every song reminded me of him, whether angry, lustful, happy, or sad. He was written between the lines of every lyric. Every time my eyelids shut, I could see us moving together, bodies held tight as we sway with the music. When my eyes open, all I see are lonely people filling up this airplane. They all look bored, sad, and very few hopeful. I wondered if anyone else here felt the same anxiety that was flowing through my body. Perhaps there are others, but by looking at them, I would never guess.

I am guessing that no one would be able to see the desire flowing through my blood as they glanced at me. I most likely appear to be another twenty-something-year-old girl, aboard an airplane, looking for something she has lost or something she has never found. But desire? This poor girl, she must have no clue what desire is. I do, more than they could ever imagine. Though time lingered for far too long, eventually I see the city beneath me. It feels like it is my first time my eyes have fallen on the rainy state, but I know it hasn’t even been a year since I last flew away from this place; this place I never thought I’d miss.

I hold my breath as we make the final descent, almost in disbelief that we are finally about to hit the ground. Though I planned this visit for months now and though throughout this plane ride I kept thinking of him and what we would do with our time together, it feels as though it was all a surprise to me. My heart is skipping beats as I walk throughout the terminal. He isn’t meeting me here; I told him I didn’t want to be cheesy and run into his arms as I got off of the plane. He was never a hopeless romantic, anyway, that is why I (almost) loved him.

I hail the taxi after I have grabbed my tiny luggage on the way out of the airport. It is a man who doesn’t ask me too much, aside from what brings me here. “I’m going back home,” I say, with a smile hidden under my scarf. No matter how long I had lived here, I never got used to the cold. I told him where I wanted to get dropped off; Kerry Park in Queen Anne. He thinks it is a bit odd that I am not going home first, but I tell him that is where I will find all I need for this trip. The traffic isn’t too bad as we head into Seattle, but little droplets of rain hit the windshield.

The sun is beginning to set so I am not surprised to see that there are many people adoring the view from my favored hill. I ask the driver to drop me off anywhere and he does, accepting the cab fare with a genuine smile and off he goes. I cross the street, looking for him within the crowds of people. My mind keeps going back to the first night that he brought me here, about a month after we started dating. Once again, a smile creeps on my face and as I get lost in thought, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I know who it  must be, but knowing it didn’t make my heart any calmer when I turned to face him.

Before I get a chance to say hello, he pulls me into a kiss and suddenly I know I won’t be making the flight back to California.

There is familiar ache in my heart, in my body, in my bones. I have not felt it for quite some time and deep down I never wanted it to come back. Even if that meant I would never feel so strongly for someone that I would never ache for them… I never wanted it to come back. It has stuck its sad, solemn head from underneath the covers and it is taking over every atom that makes up who I am. Who am I? Nowadays, I cannot tell. I cannot decipher any of my feelings and I don’t recognize the woman looking back at me through the mirror. Her eyes look so empty, her hair so ruffled, her face so pale. That cannot be me; no way, no how. Though I have never been conceited, I cannot take my eyes away from the mirror; away from the girl who looks like she is longing for something that she will never be able to attain again.

That, and only that, is the reason I know that that woman, so empty and callous, is I. It is I who has gotten so pale, so ruffled, so empty. I can’t stop longing for something, for someone, for you. But where have you gone? You have not gone anywhere, have you? It was me who left you; it was me who walked aboard that airplane and flew away, never wanting to look back. I thought that taking myself out of our horrid love story would make everything alright, that the ache I had felt at the time would be forever gone. What was that ache? I vaguely remember wanting more from you. Perhaps it wasn’t that I wanted more, though, perhaps I wanted to mean more to you. I felt like I could never make an impact in your life or your heart, but I blamed it on me, wanting more from you. I remember the morning that I left you, asleep on your side of the bed, probably dreaming of nothing and everything at all.

I will never know if you tried to get ahold of me after I walked away from everything. I left my cell phone at a charging station at the airport, thinking perhaps someone else could use it more than I could. I cancelled my phone plan a week later and never looked at the bill to see if you had even picked up the phone to look for me. Did you look for me? Perhaps you found someone else while on the search for the woman who left you on a cold, rainy morning. Perhaps, like my paranoid thoughts led me to believe, you didn’t care much if I stayed or left. Perhaps you didn’t give my leaving a second thought. I imagine you carrying on with your day, the only sorrow you feel is that I was no longer there to bring books home from the local library.

I remember you didn’t read one single book until I brought some home. You had always seen me reading late at night while you were busy on your favored computer, but you never asked me what it was I was looking for in all of those books. After I left a pile of novels, large and small, on my bedside while I left for a week to see my family (I was really just hoping you’d miss me, you know). I noticed the books were sprawled all around our apartment. In the bathroom, in the kitchen, beside the couch, in the bed where I would have been. You didn’t try to converse with me about what you found in the books, you only told me that you noticed the books were due yesterday, but you didn’t get a chance to do me a favor and drop them off. I wonder, what did you find?

Aching. Everything is aching. It hasn’t been more than a few months since I left, finding myself hundreds of miles away, but it feels like it has been forever. It feels like it has been years since I last kissed those lips of yours or since you caressed my entire body with your hands. I always loved your hands, so strong and masculine. The hands that would shut me out, closing the door to your study when you tired of me. The hands that would hold my own during a scary movie or a rainy, cold walk home. I look at my own hands, wondering what would have happened if I stayed.

If I fought for you, would you have realized how much you meant to me? Would you have opened your heart, even just a little bit, so I could have a peak inside? I know I could always come back and knock at your door, I would see then, in your eyes, if you felt relief that I had finally returned or confusion at the fact that I was standing in front of you. Sometimes the ache inside of me wants to go back to you, to go back to our bed we once shared, to kiss those all familiar lips, but I will never bring myself to do it. It is a big world out there, and though that fact alone makes me ache even more, I know I am better off without you, waiting for a person who would ache for me.

The airport is such a funny place. I sit here, waiting for it to be time for this flight to SEattle to board and I hardly see anyone smile. Perhaps everyone here is traveling for strictly business, but I highly doubt that. This place holds so many people throughout the day, yet is so impersonal. I could spend the rest of my time here trying to smile at strangers, but barely anyone would look up from their laps, let alone smile back. I am ready for the plane to come and take me away. Even if the person I sit next to may not even say a sweet hello, at least I will have the sky to talk to.

Sometimes I wonder, why did I ever leave Washington? Was living near Seattle that bad? I can handle the cold and the rain, even though it is my favorite. I never wanted anyone to think I came back to California because I wanted to take the easy way out… but yes, it was a little bit easier. I am able to have my own car (and insurance) down here, but the most important fact was that I was able to afford school here. 20 dollars a unit compared to 80 dollars (well, it would have been over one hundred since I was not considered a resident yet), it was nonsense! I do miss the evergreen state, especially those I left behind. I need to be able to visit more often so I don’t always see it as a place I left behind.

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