'Two Julias' by Ravyn LaRue

There are two Julias
that I want to befriend

One was my friend from the start
but we drifted
far
She got an emptiness to her
that I thought was impossible
I thought she had everything I didn't
But one never knows
Now I see her sometimes
it is as if she doesn't recall
our attic talks
basement club-house
or flip-cam B-movies with ketchup for blood
I see myself like her
But I fight still for the light behind my eyes
whereas I think she's come to terms with
and decided she is content within
that darkness

The other
I never befriended in the time allotted to do so
I have no reason why
but now I feel like I understand
the longing and emotion and art of metaphysical things
she somehow manages to hold for a moment in words
and openly let go of
for the world to read
though far too few, I fear, would understand
I would like to befriend her
but forcing connection seems problematic
I'm hard enough for myself to handle
I can't bear to be burdensome to seemingly strangers
when I feel like I can barely keep myself from cracking
in the worst way
and grotesquely seeping onto my beloveds
Yet I admire her
and her writing helps me through

The two Julias are two faces
of the same longing to connect I feel
But I am not a Julia
I am just myself
searching through
feeling deep longing that I alone can satiate
perhaps
I cannot count on that
I cannot count on anything