Dear Liz

I Facebook stalked you tonight. I couldn't find much, because of your charming disregard for social media. But what I found made me sad. Because there was so much I didn't know.

Your hair was long.
Your dog was defined.
You traveled.
You had an orange kitten.
Your porch was old and rickety.
You were besties with your sister-in-law.
You looked healthy.
You were married in a white dress... with a sword.
You looked absolutely stunning.
I never thought it was possible, but you had grown.

I would have had everyone of these details, and more, etched into my own memories had I given in to your pleas, taken one afternoon off, and paid you a visit. I always wanted to, but - as always - typical Kenzi, life got in the way. You would have never let something so fluid touch your relationships.

I opened your safe today. I didn't have time to think about it. I grabbed the key, shoved it into it's place, took what I needed (some old pictures, unrelated to you), and slammed the lid back down, locking it back up before I could let emotion touch me. It felt like it was pulsing. Jimangi style. Like your letters had a heartbeat, buried under the pile of forgotten memoirs.

They started a blog for you. It's called Live a Life Like Liz. It's dedicated to the "pay it forward" mentality and purpose. For strangers to share their experiences. Look what you did with what little time you had. The only problem was the intro, all angels and god and heaven and shit. Not at all what you believed. Come on, people... show a little respect. Anyway, I made my own version: Live Like Liz, L^3... or <3. I drew it on my hand. Next to the sharpie ring. I don't know why I think surrounding myself with bits of you will help, but it kinda feels like I still have you.

Liz, I miss you already. I wish I could've felt this when you were still here. Wish I could've taken advantage. See? You're still teaching me life lessons.

Kenz

Dear Liz

I'm so mad at you. You were the one person who always had everything under control. You loved the beauty of life and knew how to live it more than anyone. People and relationships meant the world to you. So how, Liz? How could you abandon them with such little regard as to the havoc you would be leaving behind?? Do you know how many hearts will never quite heal back the same way? Did you consider the hours your friends, sisters and closest companions would spend, dehydrating the system? And did you think of permanent salty stains down permanently swollen faces? What about permanent pain in exhausted souls? How could you purposely taint theaters, Wes Anderson films, homes that are much too small, maroon felt hats and carabiners? Did you knowingly accept the crushing, falling, no escape, just want to curl up and cry until every last bit of moisture leaves the body to shrivel and be free feeling that even the tiniest manifestation of distant shadows of you would surface? Did you go over all the words that were said to even the most insignificant of admirers? Did you realize those words would echo in their mind for the rest of their lives? Did you take into account the questions and scenarios that would eat at those you love each and every day, poisoning their dreams and replacing their high chins with doubt and uncertainty? Did you think of us?? Did you think of what a dark place the world would be without you? Did you pause for one second and consider suffering just a day more to spend the day with your sister? Your husband? Your long lost friend? To let them make it better?? Cause we would have done anything.

Not you Liz.
You were all that's good in the world. You were my hero.
It kills me that you were battling a much darker demon under all the reassuring words. That you were comforting me about religion, boys and school when


Not Liz.

Not Liz.



Please, God, let me wake up.

Dear Liz

I've been having nightmares about you. Horrific images accompanying shuddering feelings blanket my vision like clockwork, every few hours, making it impossible for sleep to find me. I think I want to know how you did it. It's morbid, and I'm not ready for it yet, but I want to know. I don't know if I ever will. I don't know if I will ever get to read the words you scribbled down and threw away. Your last declaration to the world, but I do. I want the closure.

I decided to read your letters tonight. I might as well make use of the new time I have during dark hours of the night. I went to open up your safe. I got the key and made it to my bedside, but could not go any further. I sat and cried for hours. I don't know why I couldn't do it, but my shaking hand was paralyzed in place. I was suddenly so afraid of losing what I have left of you. I clutched the nearest paper I could find and started to madly scribble down all the things I remember. I filled up the front and the back. I went through our last texting chain. I had already forgotten so much. How were you already leaving so quickly?? Please stop. You've taken so much already, at least leave me my memories.

Or better yet, just come home.

Kenz

Dear Liz

Elizabeth.

That's what I call you when I have to tell others. Because they couldn't care less, and the name Liz and all it encompasses is so much more than simply another one who couldn't quite hold on any longer.

Your family is a rock. They were a huge comfort to me yesterday. I don't understand how you could leave them. I don't understand a lot of things about your most recent impulse.

But I'm not really in the mood to talk.

Kenz

Dear Liz

It's true.

Dear Liz

Liz.

I heard something today. Something horrible.

I don't believe it. I can't believe it.
You wouldn't do it. You can't have done it.
I'm a mess, just from the thought...
the possibility.

I'm going home to investigate. You better be there, damn it.

Kenz

Infected.

We were healthy. Happy.
All steady breathing and productivity.

The disease hit. Slowly at first.
Germs spread as symptoms surfaced.

It was nothing but annoying. Could still inhale.
Mosquito bite or an unattended itch. Nothing of consequence.

Worsening. It inhibited routine.
Beat us down and strapped us to a bed.

Just give it time! We tried to heal quickly.
How we missed being back on track.

Juice was guzzled, held onto like a lifeline.
Pain killers administered every four hours.

Nothing helped. Terms were reached.
Accepted severity and offered a choice.

Heart stop. "Terminal".
Risky heal or prolonged goodbye.

Would give anything to be okay again.
To feel sunshine, security.

Harder to breathe now. Fluid filled lungs.
Yellowing skin. Aches, cries, dark and alone.


Alone.

Don't want to be that without you.

Wonderland

I spotted you, running among the trees. Your bushy tail. 

Late nights. Fleeting encounters.

Soft to the touch, from the look of it. 

Giggled confessions. Guilty stares.

You were different, smarter than the rest. 

Pedestals. Inquiry. Bright eyes. 

Brief contact, then nothing. You disappeared. 

Stolen kisses. Dirty dishes.

Ruined surprises. Secrets. Wishes.

I was curious. Wanted to know if you were real.

Sunny skies. New faces. 

I peeked. Down the Rabbit Hole.

Coffee silt. Sugar rushes.

Looked too far down, forgot safety. Leaned and...

Rev. 

I fell.

Cruise. Stars. Dew. 

and fell.

Return. Sheets. Warm bodies.

Past floating tables and dusty novels. Psychedelic colors and upside down mirrors.

Calligraphy pens. Italian Ice. Chords. Shopping carts.

falling

Stubble. Hot breath. Soup. Hershey bar eyes.

Smack! The bottom came; all too soon. Unexpected.

Furrowed brows. Reruns.

You were up and running, away, away...

Analyze. Question. Judge. Repeat.

Following, I played your game. Solved your puzzles. 

Instruction. Exposure.

Drank your potions. The goal always in mind. 

Any day now.

I had to find you.

Unfaltering determination.

And now, here we are. I remain in your world.

Meetings conlcuding. Leaves changing.

You entertain alternative priorities. Always late.

Plans. Plans. Plans.

Losing interest, I divert my attentions.

Sorting through ruins. Rebuild.

In a world of Cheshers, Kings, Tweedle Dees and Tweedle Dums

 Waking up. Too. Damn. Late.

Where does a white rabbit that couldn't care less fit in?

Ulterior motives. Sex. Games played. Goals achieved.

Sir, I'm sure our paths will cross. Our fates, entwine.

History lessons. Never ending. 

But, Mr. Rabbit, I have wocky's to face and ADVENTURE to discover. 

Unresearched LEAPS.

Thank you for leading me here. It's a frustrating and marvelous world.

Walls crushed. Muscles flexed.

Nothing makes sense. 

With a flick of your bushy white tail, you scatter.

Typewriter words. Overlapping boxes.

This time, I see the twigs, leaves and smears of mud caked to the white coat.

Discrepancies. Insecurities. Expectations.

Just as stubborn.

Not so curious as to the touch, now.

Too much. Too long.

You place so much importance in punctuality. I truly hope you get there. On time.

Day in. Day out. Goals. Responsibility. Encouraged obligations.

As for me, I will piss off queens and agrue with hooka smoking caterpillars.

Fire born.

But regardless of the path I take,

Half quarter turns. Deep breaths. Steady steps.

 I will find my own way.

I will find my own way.

Duct.

Confusion. Discombobulating.

Ups, God

 the ups.

Sunshine in chocolate pearls.

Royal suede eyes.

Nudge,      bite.

Reassure. Safety. Progress. Possibility. Time… slips.

Slip. Slipping.

But then, shaking..  

Sudden, heart dropping, sinking into dark, dank, dire unknown downs.

Doubt. heavy, regretting, dirty, poisonous… warm? Like fireball

WHIsky.

burns. stings. rips its way through solid walls.

Questions. Futile.

Repetition.

Repetition.

Over.

Again.

Rubbing our efforts

raw.

Worth it? No. Not now. Not when it feels like this.

Just 12 hours ago? Nothing felt more right.

Pain. Doubled over. Screaming, tearing, clawing it’s way through the layers. The layers we so often reinforce. “Duct tape fixes all!” they say. So we taped. We taped and taped and wrapped and ripped. Until we could pretend the holes had decided to pick up and find a new stomach to weaken. Thinking we could cover them completely. Thinking tape could grow, could learn to be living, breathing. Could fix. Could heal.

Facades. Closed doors. Whispers. Promises. Assurances. Words. words. ords. rds. ds. s. Vomit. Vomit and LIES.  Sickening. Cold. Clammy. Tunnels. Numb.

numb.

Worth it? 

                                                                                                               Has it ever been.

Puzzles.

Tonight, I am annoyed.
Unreasonably so.
Because I cannot, for the life of me, pin down the initial causation factor.

I'm annoyed at him. For his exhaustion. For not staying up and talking to me. For an uninteresting conversation. For having an exciting life without me. For his hasty attachment. For being more experienced than I. For causing me so much emotion ALL THE TIME!

I'm annoyed at her. For being able to make something out of nothing. For her motivation. For her seeming perfection. For knowing what she wants. For her passion. For locking me in a house for two days. For running 3 miles every morning. For being annoyed.

I'm annoyed at them. For having to plan. For leaving me to veg. For being available. For having to pretend I've made any kind of progress. For having other obligations. For hesitating before accepting. For making me contact first.

I'm annoyed at me. For wasting hour after hour, day after day. For not getting any closer. For sleeping. So. Fucking. Much. For spending. For not being what everyone thinks I am. For mistakes. For the inability to bounce back. For the desire not to.

I'm annoyed at it.

He should never have been interested.
She should never have had so much faith.
They should never have been so enthused.
I should never have bombed.
It should never have happened.

Puzzled.

Jabberwocky

There exists a place, burried deep within ever changing barriers that make up the confines of my mind, that is under constant watch. The high, majestic walls surrounding are slowly disintegrating. Piece by piece, chunks are unhinging, getting closer and closer to exposing the raw material within. The problem is, once a wall breaks, there is no rebuilding. You cannot restore it to its original splendor. Once a wall is down, it's staying down. There is not much else you can do. So I keep this place under steady surveillance, to the best of my ability, because what's contained within is toxic. If released, the monster inside will wreck havoc to the rest. Spreading itself like an invisible, odorless vapor, if uncontrolled, it will sabotage the thing I currently hold most dear.

I am not yet completely skilled in the art of blocking things out and locking them away. My walls are weak, my guards - faulty. When night hits, when all is still and I can hear nothing but the sound of his breathing followed by the gentle caress of warm air against my frigid skin, my guards are useless. As I sat there, his head in my lap, tracing the contours of his face with my exhausted fingers while his unkempt hair tickled my arm, I looked around and was faced with the abrupt realization that I was standing in the very place I had put so much effort toward avoiding; I was staring into the eyes of the beast.

Ideas and forbidden possibilities crept in. Date him? I was forced to consider it. And what about progression? How soon would I have to face a larger beast; answer questions presented by a more terrifying demon?

I WOULD enjoy calling him my own. I would never take the right to pop in, unannounced, at any moment in the day... Or night, for granted. I would like to feel his arms around me, protecting and securing. I would like to kiss his face. To give him a physical representation of the gratitude I feel for his role in saving me. Saving me from inadequacy, from self loathing, from being lost and alone. For giving me something to smile at in the middle of the day, and a reason to be reckless and irresponsible at night.

But date him?! DATE HIM? Commitment, exclusivity and pressure for potential all encompassing and bearing down at all times and from all angles.

It was then I found the monster's weakness. A small niche that would buy me time. Time to strategize, to build up strength and resilience. Time away to clear my head, and time to test the waters... To see if the monster would even be allowed to stay. This niche is summer. Long distance. Inevitable separation. Where nothing can happen in regards to a relationship. Where he will be spending time with ex girlfriends and fun, exciting new people. A perfect test. If the monster exists still, so be it. But it is sleeping for now and will not resurface for some time.

The Game.

When I was younger, my siblings and I would try to play board games together. I say "try" because on each occasion, as the game progressed and my brother's lack of skill would become increasingly more apparent, his frustration would build. Each game ended abruptly with flung pieces and an irate stomp down the hall. Not too shabby at board games myself, I could never quite sympathize with him and didn't understand his willingness to claim defeat.

Now, years later, I feel the same anxiety he clearly exhibited as an exasperated kid. This new game, however, I'm not too great at. This game has no rules and no standard process. This game requires skill, luck and strategy, but the three alter with each new player. This is a game in which you discover the path to victory slowly, painfully and piece by piece, often ending with few merits and immense confusion as to the directions that led you to your final destination. You rarely get a rematch with this game. Once you lose, you’re done with that player; no second chance, no opportunity for redemption.

I have not played enough to develop the talent required to hold my own. I get so disappointed when no longer in the lead that I would rather throw the pieces and stomp down the hall than sit through the discomfort and pitiful monotony of dragging myself to the end. True, if you give everything up half way through, you have no chance of pulling ahead and finishing strong in your favor. But the statistics in this game rarely look optimistic for me. I am typically vastly out skilled by those I engage in play.  

It would be nice to move up a few levels… inadequacy is incredibly infuriating.

The Terrifying Reality of Self Definition

Stumbling through the ups and downs of everyday existence;

 you're out of shape and biking slick rock trail, 

it's awkward and uncomfortable. 

The inclines are exhausting, the declines are unnerving 

and the flats exist solely to prolong impending doom. 

All the while you're hot and sweaty, your muscles - screaming and in a consistent state of near depletion but you're miles away from nearing any possible conclusion. 

Pain is a constant companion. You and he go way back.

 You feel his presence in everything you do. 

The sun is pain, the rock is pain, the handlebars have been delivering his relentless caress for hours.

Every year you make the trip and every year you end up reliving the exact same horror. 

When you wake up in the morning, you don't know where you're headed. 

How could you know you'd be writhing under the blistering heat just hours later?

While recently forced to evaluate my inner mechanics, I did not like what I saw. I've been running on dirty oil for a long time now. I thought I had a good idea of the person I wanted to be. I thought I had a good, tight grip on the motivation behind my actions and a clear view of the person I have become. But what I thought was polished glass turned out to be, upon closer examination, steel - rusty and misshapen. I need to reestablish priorities. I am living the life of a person I do not want to become.