There are strings of Christmas lights draped all over here, in this
house, in this tastefully decorated place, which I am let in. When
things don’t make sense I look at these lights, the strings of Christmas
lights for all seasons, and I think to myself, life is good and
complete because I have my own Christmas lights all year around.
There is a hard floor all throughout this house. Like a typical San Francisco house, it’s really more of one floor, more like a flat than a house. He lives on the first floor with rod iron gates. The floor is polished oak. Downstairs in the bedroom it is painted dark green. The floor was hand made by him many years ago. The shower stall has the exact same shower head as my ex boyfriend’s shower. My ex boyfriend who I still see on occasion. My ex boyfriend who I am still with technically, except in my mind, he is no longer a boyfriend. My ex boyfriend who sometimes I think I’m still in love with, except I can’t think like that. I must expunge him if I want to maintain my sanity, or whatever is left of it.
He takes care of me when I’m sick.
He loves Christmas lights and he enjoys talking to those who he likes and he shuts out those who he is not interested in getting to know.
He lives in his own world by his own rules and he geniunely likes me.
I like his Christmas lights. Some are in his bedroom, some are in his living room and some are in his bathroom. Different strings of lights, dimly lid, every time I’m there they are turned on. I think he turns them on just for me.
In my ex’s place it’s very quiet. He likes everything quiet and whispered. He likes me sounding like a mouse. Or making no sound at all.
In his place the room requires white noise, always TV in the background. When I’m bored, I look at those grapes and apple shaped Christmas lights. I count each fruit and then I wonder why there are eight apples and nine peaches? Why are the pineapples the same size as the pears?
Once I was very sick and I couldn’t get up. He brought me water and crackers and asked me to eat something. I said no. When I got sick I couldn’t eat or walk or speak. I could only sleep and count the Christmas lights.
I was sick the last time when I woke up at my ex’s house, I was all of sudden dizzy that time as well. I remembered thinking, “This is it. This is how I would die.” Without make up, without an ounce of pride. I shall faint and fall.
He led me back to the bed, the bed we shared, took off my shoes, covered me with white comforter and white sheets. He said “How could you never tell me such things? I didn’t know you have this disease. Should I take you to a hospital?” I looked at him and I was sweating cold sweats, feeling nauseous and unable to move because the world was spinning. All I wanted to say, “But you have never asked. I was only your fantasy girl. We never talked. Even this relationship was not real.” but instead I looked at him and let him remove my shoes and I closed my eyes. I remembered clearly how much I loved him. It was not logical or rational. I loved him with all my fragile heart and corrupt soul.
That day In what seemed to be distant, fainted voice, he was speaking to the car repair shop, making appointments on the phone.
At this Christmas lights filled house I laid on the couch listening to him talking to his friend about his newest design project.
Two men. One I love, and one I don’t. Both kind and both distant. Both won’t let me in, both won’t let me go. And round and round we go.
Both took photos of me. When I pose I smile. When I’m at my natural state I am serious and somber. He who has Christmas lights says that when I don’t pose I look lost and mysterious. My secrets are deeply rooted to my lack of security in all fronts of my life. My secrets are only known to one person, that person who is my ex and whom I no longer love but who loves me.
In my delirious state of being, where I’m haunted by childhood memories and tormented by my conflicting desires, I have to tell myself there are places where Christmas lights are strung and Christmas is for all seasons. That means, there is hope and a renewed life.
There has to be a brighter future than the one I have wished for.
There is a hard floor all throughout this house. Like a typical San Francisco house, it’s really more of one floor, more like a flat than a house. He lives on the first floor with rod iron gates. The floor is polished oak. Downstairs in the bedroom it is painted dark green. The floor was hand made by him many years ago. The shower stall has the exact same shower head as my ex boyfriend’s shower. My ex boyfriend who I still see on occasion. My ex boyfriend who I am still with technically, except in my mind, he is no longer a boyfriend. My ex boyfriend who sometimes I think I’m still in love with, except I can’t think like that. I must expunge him if I want to maintain my sanity, or whatever is left of it.
He takes care of me when I’m sick.
He loves Christmas lights and he enjoys talking to those who he likes and he shuts out those who he is not interested in getting to know.
He lives in his own world by his own rules and he geniunely likes me.
I like his Christmas lights. Some are in his bedroom, some are in his living room and some are in his bathroom. Different strings of lights, dimly lid, every time I’m there they are turned on. I think he turns them on just for me.
In my ex’s place it’s very quiet. He likes everything quiet and whispered. He likes me sounding like a mouse. Or making no sound at all.
In his place the room requires white noise, always TV in the background. When I’m bored, I look at those grapes and apple shaped Christmas lights. I count each fruit and then I wonder why there are eight apples and nine peaches? Why are the pineapples the same size as the pears?
Once I was very sick and I couldn’t get up. He brought me water and crackers and asked me to eat something. I said no. When I got sick I couldn’t eat or walk or speak. I could only sleep and count the Christmas lights.
I was sick the last time when I woke up at my ex’s house, I was all of sudden dizzy that time as well. I remembered thinking, “This is it. This is how I would die.” Without make up, without an ounce of pride. I shall faint and fall.
He led me back to the bed, the bed we shared, took off my shoes, covered me with white comforter and white sheets. He said “How could you never tell me such things? I didn’t know you have this disease. Should I take you to a hospital?” I looked at him and I was sweating cold sweats, feeling nauseous and unable to move because the world was spinning. All I wanted to say, “But you have never asked. I was only your fantasy girl. We never talked. Even this relationship was not real.” but instead I looked at him and let him remove my shoes and I closed my eyes. I remembered clearly how much I loved him. It was not logical or rational. I loved him with all my fragile heart and corrupt soul.
That day In what seemed to be distant, fainted voice, he was speaking to the car repair shop, making appointments on the phone.
At this Christmas lights filled house I laid on the couch listening to him talking to his friend about his newest design project.
Two men. One I love, and one I don’t. Both kind and both distant. Both won’t let me in, both won’t let me go. And round and round we go.
Both took photos of me. When I pose I smile. When I’m at my natural state I am serious and somber. He who has Christmas lights says that when I don’t pose I look lost and mysterious. My secrets are deeply rooted to my lack of security in all fronts of my life. My secrets are only known to one person, that person who is my ex and whom I no longer love but who loves me.
In my delirious state of being, where I’m haunted by childhood memories and tormented by my conflicting desires, I have to tell myself there are places where Christmas lights are strung and Christmas is for all seasons. That means, there is hope and a renewed life.
There has to be a brighter future than the one I have wished for.
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