Alicia Cook - Sorry I Havent Texted You Back

Track One I tell you I feel tired and you say, But you slept for twelve hours, and I knew you didnt get it. I tell you maybe I need Vitamin D and you crack a joke about your dick; and I knew you didnt get it. You tell me I have nothing to be sad about. I agree and you meet me with a shrug; and I knew you didnt get it. I tell you the noise and the crowd are getting to me and you say, I told you that you didnt have to come; and I knew you didnt get it. I tell you my temples feel heavy and you say, Take Advil; and I knew you didnt get it.

You suggest maybe another shower, or makeup, or a run will lift my spirits; and I knew you didnt get it. I tell you, and tell you, and tell you and you never get it. Dont worry. Its not your fault... I get it. Currently listening to: Different Kind of Tears by Sully Erna Track Two No one knows how much she cried last Wednesday.

Because she still hit her marks. She got out of bed, though she didnt fix the covers. She showered but forgot to rinse out the conditioner. She put on clean clothes, though they were a bit wrinkled. There were no runs in her tights, no mascara clumps by her eyes. She was only five minutes late, which is considered on time when youre running on four hours of sleep and Seasonal Depression.

She didnt engage in conversation but greeted everyone with a smile. She went home without an appetite but still cooked dinner. She had sex but didnt finish. No one knows how much she cried last Wednesday because she was quiet about it, and to some, pain is only noticed when it is public, and loud, and obvious. No one knows how much she cried last Wednesday because Thursday was better and, by then, she didnt want to dwell on yesterday. Currently listening to: You Dont Know How It Feels by Tom Petty Track Three We may sleep together, but my dreams are my own.

Thats always been my problem. I shut people out. I only let them see me from certain angles, in certain lighting, at certain moments. My mother says its because I am independent. My therapist says its my defense mechanism. My ex says its why we broke up.

My friends say they love me anyway. I say its because I feel safest in half measures. Ill love youbut not completely. Ill hold your handbut wont interlace our fingers. Ill take picturesbut wont tag you. Ill miss youbut never enough to ever question leaving.

Currently listening to: What Now by Rihanna Track Four For now, I will say I wanted to take a picture of you in the car. The sun was setting and there was this tugging on my heart, telling me I was going to want to remember this part. But I knew a photo wouldnt live up to what my eyes were living, so I just stared at you until the sun disappeared behind a building. For now, I will say when we were walking around the harbor, if it werent for the people with umbrellas running for cover, I would have never felt the rain or heard the thunder. And if you knew what my mind was like before, youd get what I meant that gray morning, when I said you were the only one who could make me forget it was pouring. Currently listening to: Flagship by Jason Isbell Track Five I dont tell you that I went to work today in the shirt I slept in last night.

I dont tell you that I cried on the couch for no fucking reason. I dont tell you that I am hungover in the middle of the week. I dont tell you I cant recall the last time my mind didnt hurt. I dont need to tell you any of this for you to sense that burnout is imminent. You dont need to kno w the whole story to understand the story. That is why you are beautiful.

You tell me you are here if I want to talk. You tell me I better sleep tonight because the bags under my eyes are atrocious. You tell me I better eat and take an iron pill. I dont push back. I sincerely tell you that I am trying. You believe me, and you believe in me.

And thats the precarious, precious cycle that keeps me going. Thank you for not needing the whole story to understand the story. Currently listening to: Most of All by Brandi Carlile Track Six I implore you crawl out of that grave before the dust settles before the grass returns. Before you get too comfortable with death, with oblivion. Before your fingerprints and footprints are wiped clean. Before the world gets used to spinning without you.

Youre too priceless to remain lifeless in cheap pine. In a dress you didnt choose. In caked-on makeup. You never slept well on your back. Break your nails. Scuff your knuckles.

Swallow the ground. B l o o m. You belong here on the surface, with pomegranates and rain and fig trees, with traffic and lavender and morning breath. Not wherever comes next. Not yet. Not on a day like this when your existence helps others exist.

Currently listening to: Reasons Not to Die by Ryn Weaver Track Seven You were warned about me. Cautioned that my baseline temperament is restless. That at the slightest, misconstrued touch, I would explode like acid-covered confetti, float gently onto you, burn holes in your skin, blister your heart, corrode your belief that love is worth the risk. You were told Ive always been like thisscar tissue and armor. All because someone else dripped their poison onto me, and my lonesome wounds were looking for company before they healed. Heartache is just another contagious disease.

Currently listening to: Wandering Child by Wild Rivers Track Eight I hold my breath; this is the test. I cant exhale until you go to voicemail. I let it ring through, let my anxiety brew. You are not good for my health. I am getting mad at myself. For still wanting to answer, for still wanting an answer.

For ignoring the disparities, for feigning clarity. It was October seventeenth, tree leaves more orange than green, your eyes still just as blue. Resurrecting what we grieved, haunted by the hues. Theres nothing left to say, though 1,000 words remain. You were too selfish to be patient, and I was too sad to stay. We both know this was never okay.

Re-stitching old patterns, rehashing old fights. Replaying the times the love felt right. Those moments are few and far between. By that I mean, for every slow song, there were five bloodcurdling screams. The first year, I cried every night. Year two, I stopped romanticizing the bruise.

By year three I was free, and thats when my phone rang. It was like you knew that I was finally okay. It was October seventeenth. I set the scene, STARRING YOU AND ME! Then I douse that scene in gasoline. Currently listening to: Mercury in Retrograde by Sturgill Simpson Track Nine We were too busy trying to survive the earthquake to even contemplate what it meant that our world had been split open. We were too busy chasing survival that we didnt even consider that the acts of surviving and restoring would hurt too.

We were too busy crying in frigid tombs, not worrying about unmade beds, dirty dishes, or keeping a calendar, that we forgot that normalcy gives off warmth. We were too busy picking up broken glass that we normalized our trauma, started to liken the gathering of shards to collecting shells along the shore, or inspecting snowflakes; each one unique in its sharpness, in its deadliness. We were too busy obsessing over how something we wouldnt ask for in one million years could show up unannounced and dictate our lives in a such a way, that our memories became distorted, or amplified, or went missing altogether. We were too busy drawing lines in the sand and biting tongues and preparing for war, that we forgot that once upon a time there was a peace. Currently listening to: Home by Ingrid Michaelson Track Ten Your pupils dilated when I walked in the room and I knew I had you. I used to wonder what itd be like to kiss you at midnight.