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Coady
Date: 2016-07-29 03:03
Subject: When you're thirty and you have insomnia
Security: Public
It's been a long time since I haven't been tired. Tired is real life, I think.

There have been a lot of days this year when I thought about what things used to feel like. Like how music used to sound like something real, like it touched something. Like how it felt to run your hands over your flat stomach and protruding hip bones. Like the ecstasy of stretching your back, lying on the floor with your heels tucked up under your butt.

There was a certain manic, frenetic, awesome thing about 3:00a.m. You could write things that you didn't feel in the day. And you could put exagerated make-up on your face and photopragh yourself. You could fuck like you hadn't been fucking for three hours already. You could cut your skin and watch yourself bleed and get a little high from it. You could do 300 crunches before you lost count and then just do more.

Now it mostly feels like I need to poop.

Not that it's a bad thing, really. Not that it's a sad thing, or a touching thing. Not that many things are like that at all anymore. That's the edge though, because I haven't been able to come to terms with that. I think if I could, one way or the other, that would be different. If I was okay with it, great. Peace be with you, and also with you. I could go to Yoga and contemplate my career. And if I wasn't okay with it, maybe I could change something. But the unsettled, unknowing; am I okay with being what I am?

I know I miss New York. The city, sure. Walking around for dates, getting yelled at by strangers. Pizza at 3am. But the woods too, sprawling, seemingly infinate. More quiet than you thought could ever exist. More quiet than deafness in a dream. When you can hear the ants chewing.
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Coady
Date: 2015-06-13 17:04
Subject: That it's been fifteen years and still I love you
Security: Public
Sometimes I think that maybe I should write to you. Sometimes I think I should take the chance, and say, I love you. That I swore to myself all those years ago that I didn't know what love was, but anyway, I'm almost thirty and think of you almost every day. But what if you didn't even respond? What if it didn't even matter...

I'm engaged to another man, and happily, and in love. But I think about what would be if you showed up at my door. If you told me you thought of me too, if it wasn't all in my head.

I don't understand why you had to tell me all those things all those years ago.. Why did you tell me you loved me, why did you tell me I was the most incredible woman you've ever known. You didn't need to do that. You didn't need to give yourself to me like that. Not if you didn't mean it, I still would have fooled around with you. You didn't need to dig yourself into my spine for something like that. You don't need to haunt me forever now. My childhood is gone and my youth is almost gone and I still miss you and I just want it to end. I just want to be happy. I need to know what it meant to you and you are they only person I can never just talk to.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don't think anyone I know would ever believe this thing that I live with. I'm so even tempered, so focused. So not the type.
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Coady
Date: 2011-11-30 19:21
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
Dearest-
This moment isn't any different than all the rest. It's been years since I've known what it felt like to touch your skin, it's been moments since I missed that. I fear there aren't any words left to write, I have written them all, I have felt every pang before and will forever after. One thing, I've forgotten the sound of your voice so utterly that I've confused it with that of others. Will we ever see each other again? Will we ever feel around each other? It's been so many years and only yesterday since I last felt young.
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Coady
Date: 2011-08-02 22:30
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
I bet your boys will be beautiful-
Just like you all were-
Just like mine will be-

Sometimes it appears that no amount of sincere love can alter that one single, Irish longing. At best, imitation.

Oh- not till this moment had a realized, I am longing for talk of poetry where our eyes adjust to the dark. Alcoholism and brilliant self-antagonism and your child's smile.
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Coady
Date: 2011-03-22 02:50
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
The sink was filthy; he hadn't washed it in six weeks, well months, really. It used to gross her out, but she didn't say anything because she loved him so damn much. He knew that of course, somewhere. Not anywhere recently, of course. Her toothbrush was still there, bristles upturned. It was a feminine blue, the rubbery gum scrubber on the back resting on the mildly moldy lycra sink top.

He was tired - work was kicking his ass these days. Mistakes were made, warnings were issued. Things were not going well. The bills were piling up and God knew why - they just seemed to sit there. If only he clung to the right thing; everything would be.. well something. Sweaty palms, his ribs were beginning to show, she'd blown her hair our that morning. It had been soft.. looking.

It was time to shave, it had been a couple of days. He dragged the wet razor over his face. Blade was too grimy. Goddamnit. He turned on the cold water, dragging his thumb backwards over the blade to clear it. Son of a bitch, he shook the razor violently, swinging the blade under the tap, left hand careening into the turqoise toothbrush and knocking it from the sink. In one desperate moment he grabbed for it as it tumbled into the toilet, seat up.

Shit, shit. One moment of blank staring at the tiny blue toothbrush before a brief sob broke out of the back of his throat.
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Coady
Date: 2011-01-17 17:08
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
My love,
I don't know where you are right now, and I can not find out. You are simply gone - out of existence for me. You smile and your frown - everything. My love, if I could have changed it, and made it not this way, I would have. If I had no pride and nothing was moving but we stayed the same, I would make it so. Brandon I can not dream of the world if it is without you. I can not picture any other face, and other body, any other anything. Brandon I will love you into eternity and the ending of all things. If telling you would make it change, I would tell you. If ordering you, or lying to you, or giving up everything else would make it change, I would do those things. If, for a second, I had seen this coming, I would have done away with everything that distracted us from always being happy. I wish our childhood and young adulthood and middle age and old age were all stretched out before us and we were tangled in your bedsheets. Your heart is my heart.

But all the promises you have broken.. I am utterly shattered by you. You have rent the goodness and the hope and all of the joy out of every crack in my life. How, how could any forgiveness be enough? How could any apologies ever be enough? How could I ever call you the love of my life again - now, after what has transpired?

There is no hope, anymore, no faith. There is no shining circle inside of me with your name printed inside. I ache anew for the realization that your intentions are worthless and flawed and I am truly alone in a way I have never been before. Before, I could think of myself as your woman.. waiting. Waiting for the lion in you to wake up and wrap around us. Waiting for the promises to be fulfilled. But there isn't going to be any of that. There will only be pain, and the ruining of all the joy that was my life, and fear. And I will run, because what are my other options? I will run from you and the pit that used to be my job and the hate and the hurt and I will stumble and make terrible decisions.

You have left me empty and in grief. You have left me in agony without a moment of peace. You have left me.
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Coady
Date: 2010-12-24 22:27
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
Christmas again..

On the road again toward single, female Herpetologist. This lonely road stretches out before me, carpeting the future in sadness and great sacrifice. All my children have gone from my minds eye - their beautiful possibility no longer realistic. They would have been blue eyed and five foot nine and a half. They would have had his widows peak and scampered about. I would have loved them with every piece of me that wasn't already with him. I would have named the first one Luke - for my grandfather. We would have gone camping and he would have retold them stories from H.P. Lovecraft while they studied my perfect smore making technique. We would have sat them in the middle of the canoe while we paddled still waters that marked the memories from our youth. I would have married him in the glen on Rollins pond. I would have spend my old age kissing the temple where his hair used to be before he lost it - I would have ached when he died before me.

I can't imagine how this pain will disappear, although I must assume it will. I want to kiss the inside of his elbows and squeeze my feet under his legs and hold his naked body in my empty arms. I wish he would come to me and wipe my tears away and tell me everything was fine. I want my keys to his place back, rattling around the bottom of my purse and at least a slim comfort. I want to know where it all went, I want to know why he ran out on me, I want to know how he managed it.

My fear is like a living thing, that breathes on the back of my brain that this was it, he was the one, and now he's left you for the opportunity to remain a boy for just a little while longer. That maybe, if you just hadn't said anything, you wouldn't be alone this Christmas Eve but wrapped in the warmth of the family you would have had - in the family which the two of you had begun together.
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Coady
Date: 2010-11-25 16:00
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
Thanksgiving - again.

Three months ago I had a lot to say. Three months ago my life was exactly what it ought to be. Three months ago it was perfect and beautiful and nothing could touch me. Not so much, today. Almost nothing is perfect today. I wish I had the heart to write about what was. I wish I had the strength to talk about the baby lizards and the papers and the things that will come. But all I can imagine are the things that I have lost. My head is filled with his smile and the tears he cried our last night together. These things are frozen in my mind. I am so in love and have never felt a second more alone. Not ever.

Happy thanksgiving, my love. If only you could know how much it kills me that you didn't call to wish me one.
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Coady
Date: 2010-10-16 12:41
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
As ever, things change. It's been ten days and still no word - I don't deserve it. My celebrations and stress are inside and all over Annie. That isn't where they belong. My dreams are starting to frighten me - they are starting to remind me that he is so far from settling - that I know peace only rolled up with him. I can not fathom why he hasn't called.
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Coady
Date: 2010-07-23 22:08
Subject: (no subject)
Security: Public
There's a distant feeling, that's keeping us nearer.

The bar was busy and full and they had always met each other from across the crowded room. And something, nothing really, had brought them both there that evening, in the town they had grown up in, an unlikely place to binge their souls. But met there, several times, they had. Heavy blue curtains broke the room apart, shielding the place here, from the place she had sipped martinis with her mother, from the garden where he had lost his footing and been caught by his tall, blonde friends. This one partition, had no home for either of them but in each others glances, attempts to meet one another's eyes, years after it had become uncomfortable to do so. But there, twenty feet distant, they heard each other breathe.
"Hi," she mouthed, the room elongating and narrowing to a point right above his black hair.
"Hey," he mumbled, though no one heard. "Wutstup."

All those meters away, she paused, she squinted, she raised a right hand where a rock blended into the pale, paper clear skin of her ring finger. Her eyeline quaked as she shrugged her shoulders, barely noticable. To anyone else.
She read the congratulations on his prematurely aging face, saw the lines forming on his forehead, the place the age showed on his father. She ached for how beautiful he would become, how austere - how unfortunate.

That she would break down sobbing seemed inevitable, and she exited the bar, lit a cigarette. Knowing, fearing he would follow, she turned right, away from home, the darkest route, and disappeared into the night, the cherry of her Kamel Red Light blooming in the suburban night.
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