"In my mind I'm digging a hole.

It may be a grave."

"I am death imitating life."

Apocrypha

In my dream I punched you over and over until your brain dribbled out of your ears.

I had warned you beforehand: "You've said enough this morning. I really don't care to hear anything else you have to say. Now back off before I break every bone in your body."

You kept screaming all the same.

The first punch dropped you to your hands and knees. From there I kicked you to the floor, straddled your chest and delivered methodical and well-placed blows to your face, over and over, until I felt every bone shatter beneath my knuckles.

Once the task at hand was completed, I got up and walked away, leaving you bleeding and disfigured on the floor. 

Is this how you felt all those times you delivered bodily harm against me as a child? I wondered. Did you feel powerful, holding my life in your hands? Did you enjoy issuing thinly-veiled threats of impending violence? Did you cherish the beatings that followed? 

Partaking in the exhilaration and power derived from imposing pain upon another, and the intoxicating desire to deliver destruction – the same as was delivered to you as a child – over and over again . . . 

"The only human will is to succumb to one greater."

I love you. I forgive you. I finally understand.

Αδαμαντία

The way you looked into my eyes while you were apologizing, and immediately stopped talking and stepped away - you could see that I was sizing you up, calculating how much strength it would take to break you with my bare hands.

I must have been burning white hot because you picked right up on it, and it stopped you cold.

Kandice (The Failed Attempts)

The entire graduating class decided to throw a climate change protest / party to celebrate.

From the back row I could see you as you left the stage, shaking hands with all the boys who had lined up to ask you out on a date.

"Your protest sign is awesome. Maybe we could grab a cup of fair-trade coffee and discuss the virtuous imperatives of smashing the state and defending Mother Earth sometime."

You were unfailingly courteous in humoring their advances, politely listening until the last potential suitor had made his pitch before respectfully declining and dismissing yourself with a smile. 

You were always so good at that, hedging without offending.

I ran into my mother as I was leaving the rally. She was happy for you. 

As for myself . . . it had been so long since I had thought about you that it felt odd to be doing so. 

                                                * * * 

In hindsight, we were never a great fit – you were the intellectual cheerleader (the social parasite) and I was the nihilistic punk-rocker (the social pariah.) 

I don't know how or why we thought that dynamic would work. 

                                                * * * 

I identified the problem about a month into our two-year-long relationship: your ease with others – and my complete lack thereof –made me feel as if we were in constant competition with one another. It also made me feel as though I didn't deserve to be in a relationship with you, because I always fell short when interacting with your family and friends.

The deep-seated feelings of inadequacy I've buried for all these years return to me as I write this down. It's been such a long time . . . 

Truth be told, I really did want to kill myself. I was young and emotionally naïve and didn't know how to effectively process failed expectations – my own, yours and those of our family and friends. I could just never get over the social isolation that came with watching you initiate a conversation with strangers out of thin air. You made friends everywhere you went and made the process look so damn easy. 

"Just put yourself out there," you once told me by way of explanation. "Sooner or later, someone will accept you for who you are." 

You couldn't see the mountains behind my eyes, which deepened the wound between us that much more.

                                                * * * 

During our relationship I suffered from a myriad of mental and emotional issues – up to and including self-harm and thoughts of suicide – that I was unwilling to burden you with, which is why I kept to myself most of the time. I know you suffered from the same issues, but you also had a much broader support system than I did, what with your extended family and vast network of close friends.

Keeping quiet was the only way I knew how to deal with those issues. I know how stupid that sounds in hindsight. You cared about me and wanted to help me . . . I just didn't want to become a burden and by shutting down emotionally I allowed that apprehension to divide us.

Sometimes I wish I could relive moments with you, to make them better than before. I know I would make for a better boyfriend today.

Kandice, wherever you are . . . I hope you know how sorry I am.