I escaped a black hole but it left me angry

You once told me
no one understood
your sadness
the way I did
while we were talking about
dark matter
and the paradox of infinity
and later I was thinking how
your soul holds enough darkness
to hold back all the
gravity in the universe.

While you explained your theory
that everyone showed only
a false projection of their personality
and no one got to know
our real selves
I remember thinking
you were too broken
and someday you’d need
a therapist
and I remember wondering
how would you ever find someone
who would get your puns
and laugh at every lame joke
the way I did
and you said
connecting with a human
is the rarest thing
in life
and maybe I shouldn’t
take it so lightly
and I laughed it off
because I had a whole list of
connections I’d made.
But later I realized
it wasn’t the same
later I realized
maybe I’ll never
connect to anyone
the way we did.


Every time I pass by
some place we’d been to –
the rail-side slum
near my house
that we had surveyed,
or the enormous office complex
where we had judged
corporate slaves
and argued with each other
over pretentious coffee
and lunch meetings,
or the empty streets
near your house
where we had walked on a cold night,
or the creepy place
full of scrap metal
in some corner
of our university –
every time I pass these
I tell myself
I’m not drowning
I tell myself
I’ve learned to swim
I tell myself
this nostalgia
will go away soon
it will turn to dust
and drop off my skin
like rain
I tell myself
I carry my own umbrella now
and I remind myself
sharing an umbrella
only left us both wet.

Two months ago
I took my brother
to the arcade gaming zone
where you and I
had laughed like maniacs
and I wondered
why I kept blanking out
every few minutes
why the games felt
so shitty this time
why I couldn’t brush off
the sound of your laughter
from the folds of my sleeves
and the anger
ate me up
the anger
burned my bones
the anger
drove me insane
but I wasn’t sure
who I was angry at.

At you –
for making me open up to you
although I never wanted to,
for calling me at 2 AM’s
and asking me to cure your insecurities,
for telling me
my voice was like
dry leaves in Autumn,
for telling me
I felt like home,
for leaving scratches on my soul
and tainting it for the person
who deserved to find it spotless,
for saying I was the only one
who understood you
and not noticing
I never said it back.

Or at myself –
for not leaving
the first chance I got,
for noticing the way
you ran your hand through your hair
when you were nervous,
for drinking in
every single word you ever said
like a caffeine addict
finding her morning latte,
for seeing your bloodshot eyes
under a midnight sky
and not getting scared,
for laughing at your jokes
even when they weren’t funny,
for enabling your addiction
of making people sympathize
with you and using them
as your emotional trash bin,
for seeing how the darkness inside you
sucked up my sunshine
like a black hole
and still not leaving you soon enough,
for leaving a suitcase full of
pieces of my soul
at your house
despite knowing that I
was never going to stay.


One day I hope
the anger will die down
and perhaps I
will forgive
both of us
but tonight
the anger
burns like hell.

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