It's Not You. It's Not Me.

[kavi911]

She said it wasn't me. She was lost and didn't want to be found by anyone but herself. She used to twirl her hair when she looked at me. She used to rest her head on my shoulder. She used to write love notes on my skin with her fingertips. Now she crossed her arms, crossed her legs, kept her hands to herself.

We used to think the happy ending was just one part of the fairy tale. Nobody told us the ending and the tale were one and the same; nobody told me I'd always want what I couldn't have. She told me to accept it, said she hoped I could, said I never did accept responsibility.

She said I would never change. She said I was always worth saving, that she tried everything reach me, that she couldn't drown with me any longer. She said there was someone else. Someone who wasn't sinking in his own fear, someone who could save her, someone waiting in the lighthouse in the distance.

She said I couldn't blame her, that we could never forgive ourselves if we stayed the way we were, that life happening was pushing her away. She said I was the first stone she hadn't left unturned; but there was no more turning left to do.

She said it was her. I used to think I was dreaming, that no one in waking life could know me like I knew myself. I used to think I could float on forever on my own. I used to think she would weigh me down before she came along.

She said she was unhappy because she was holding me back, bringing me down. She told me she wasn't happy because I wasn't either, that the only difference between us was that she could see it and I couldn't. She said we needed time, distance, closure to find our way back.

She said it was time to go. Her fingers slipped out of mine, smooth as the way they'd first come together. I couldn't struggle or fight or care to do either. I couldn't speak or breathe or remember how to do either. I watched the surface break over and again, watched her follow the light.

And I sank. I sank so far, so deep; I begged the rocks at the bottom to bury me and let me die. I screamed and I cried and I swore to them I'd never get up again. They listened in still quiet, allowed the grief that poured from me, but took no pity. Showed no mercy. Just waited on me to quit for good. They knew it was coming, and so did I. Then, they would bury me.

But it was curious, the swell inside me, as the rocks began to fall around me in ambush and loving memory. And the swell brought me to my feet. Gave me strength that I could change my mind, heave the boulders piling above. And the swell took my feet one step at a time. Gave me clarity to see that I hadn't been who I really was since I'd started being me.

So I raced, giving chase to the light above the surface. Urgency followed me close, tearing skin off blistered feet and calloused hands, smelling blood in the water. Fear was an anchor; one that grew heavier the closer we came to shore. But it cringed in the lighthouse beam, and the sand in my eyes burned worse than the anchor weighed on my back. And there on the beach, I lived again; left someone I didn't recognize to die in the shallows of the waves.

I caught my breath and rose to my feet. I stormed through the doors, up the stairs, to the top of the tower. Someone would be waiting for her; she had said so. Someone who could make her happy again. Someone who could allow me to be happy again, happy for her because she could be happy at all. And her happiness was most important to me; hers and no one else's.

I scoured the building, taking round trip flights of stairs until my legs buckled and refused to climb anymore. I wept. And I resolved to never move again. And I begged the lighthouse walls to collapse over me and bury me for good. I screamed and cried and swore. And I asked for no mercy.

Then the door to the stairwell creaked open behind me. And someone stood in the frame, a shadow reaching out to me. A shadow turned into a hand, with fingertips that began to write on my sobbing shoulders without any hesitation. A hand became a face, one I'd given up on seeing again only minutes ago. A face a smile, a smile a voice. A voice that belonged to a girl who'd found herself a man waiting for her in the lighthouse. A man who could make her happy.

She had said it wasn't me.

And it wasn't.

[mooskadams]

I am utterly blown away.... actually crying a little, and that never happens.

My friend, this was one of the most beautiful pieces of prose Ive ever read, and I say that with certainty. I think I really lost it when I realized where it was going, who the man in the lighthouse was going to be.

I can relate to this more than you know. Heartbreak follows close, but if you let it drown you then you are a failure. You do have to escape the crushing emptiness and shed your old skin, become a better man. Sometimes you get her back, sometimes you dont. But growing, transforming through misery, is what matters.

Thank you so much. *exalt*

[ladymaybebaby]

It's not you, it's not me. You have left this piece open for so many interpretations, that even the reader begins to question that themselves what what is real and what if just a fanatasy in this one.I read it three different time, slowly and from each angle and was unable to get an images in my mind and I toally apologize for that... I've tried my best. Let me try scrape the kernels off and try again

[ladymaybebaby]

Well.... I'm not doing my job as a reader and commentor properly either. That is your intellectual properly, your thoughts and emotions and somewhere I failed to do my job inappropriately. Of course now I have my coffee and your explanation it's clear as day! It a beautiful piece! The girl is not you, anymore. She is you, matured. She realized what she meant, what she needed and longed for all of those years to become the grown up woman she needed to be the one for you to love her. I know see what all of the tears are for! I am so embarrased I missed this the first time around. It's a gorgeous love story! I am book marking this one for my private collection, to be read over and over again! Thank you so much for stopping in with the reply and making sure I saw the post! I was so kind of you!

-LMB
xoxo

[theLady]

This is beautiful and I am really, really glad I got to read it. Keep on writing.

[Ben.]

this is remarkable. what a fantastic piece. Death and rebirth, a perfect and poetic Phoenix story.
Thabk you so very much for this.
Really, Thabk you.

Ben.

[RogueInk]

Magnificent beauty and depth, with stunningly lucid mental pictures imbued in your storytelling. The end could be read in either a negative way, as the narrator could surmise that he hadn't changed enough to satisfy her, or that he had grown in such wonderful ways as to be an unrecognizable magnification of what he used to be to her; someone new that she would have to learn and become accustomed to. Thank you for sharing this. It really was lovely.

[dwells]

Wonderful slice of life and congrats! Not all endings are happy ones, cheers!

[mangodog]

Kavi - this is the definition of "Wow" -
such a rich tapestry of emotion and unique fiber...

simply loved the tenor and timber of this
beautiful piece. Gosh, you've found words
and put them together in ways few can....

magnifique!


drew

[Josie]

I felt like I was riding on a roller coaster of emotions. There was a lot of work put into this. I congratulate you on the TPS Spotlight.

[kavi911]

No, Ben. Thabk you. And thabks to everyone for the kind words!