"love ridden"

It's such a weird thing, talking to you again. As much as I tried to put you out of my mind, it was still you- morning, noon and night. I told myself that I agreed to scold you for the phone call, for showing up at my place, to give you your clothes back. Snapped back, when you said I should keep them. "There will never be another reason for you to have clean clothes at my house." Sitting across that table from you, all I wanted to do was reach out and touch you. Self depreciating as usual. Talk about the weight you've gained since we "broke up" because you're drinking a lot more. Another thing for me to worry about. You looked great though. "You like my haircut? I got it thinking of you." I noticed. It hurt in a good way. I remember breaking the rules, looking at things I wasn't supposed to be looking at, when I saw that you had finally cut it off. I wanted it to be me so badly. Wondered if I crossed your mind with the sound of the scissors, your head one year lighter. I can't stop replaying our meal in my head. The way I froze up when you mentioned her. So briefly, so carefully. Like you knew what it might do to me. I hope you didn't notice, but you know me better than I like to admit. I wanted to tell you that I was so sorry about your grandfather, your parents. Wanted to shove that table aside and hold you to my chest. Kiss your head. Be your safe place. But it was too late, the walls were up. I must have seemed so cold, so cruel. Like I was silently happy that you were in pain. That Christmas card from last year was supposed to make you feel special. A reminder that you don't have to pretend in front of me. 

Now it's a reminder of what you gave up. 

Ultimately, you chose this. I have to remember that. 

"That was after you dropped me from the rotation. Well, I guess I kind of pulled myself out of it..."

The look on your face told me that neither one of us wanted me to be right, but that didn't change the fact that I was. 

Would you do it all over again?

1:19 AM October 6th

Exactly one month since the last time we exchanged words. You've always had weird timing. I shouldn't have picked up the phone but I couldn't help it -- I wanted to hear your voice. Drunk, lonely, self-depreciating. You sounded tired in the way that it takes more than a good night's sleep to fix. You miss me. Everyone asks about me. It never stopped surprising me that other people in your life knew that I existed. You always kept me at such a distance, I never thought that you'd have anything to say about me to anyone that mattered. Keep repeating how much you messed up, how you want to take me out next week to that place I like so much. I wanted you sad, alone, missing me and thinking about how much you gave up. Now I just feel sorry for you. And of course, the constant stream of "I love you" that fills any silence more than a beat or two. I don't know what to say to any of it. Maybe it's true, but you don't love me right.

Grateful

TC: All of the feelings.

Does anything break more young hearts in this day and age than the unclear, we-like-each-other-but-not-enough-to-put-it-on-Facebook, vague connections? So many people are involved in them and they’re typically unhappy and/or unsatisfied. Because the having sex, or hanging out together part only lasts for so long, then there’s all the time in between to think about wanting more from them.
Some are mostly in it for hookups; others spend a substantial amount of time together but never take it to the next level. And then there are those who literally perform the actions of a relationship: dinner, movies, hugs, kisses, sweet nothings, sex — but no label or commitment. The openness of tag-less, promise-less connection is a killer.

Kind Of, Sort Of Dating, Maybe

No one wants to be the person who is made fun of for caring too much about something, who treats in earnest a situation that everyone else considers absurd. Even in personal relationships, feeling too heavily invested while simultaneously understanding that the other person couldn’t be more detached is one of the most profound feelings of embarrassment we can experience. Because it isn’t simply the embarrassment of making a mistake or a poor choice, it’s a shame over the kind of human being you are and how you see the world around you. To be shamed for your sincerity is to be reminded that you are dependent on something which is not dependent on you — that you are, once again, vulnerable.

I Will Always Care Too Much

Thought Catalog has been cutting deep the past few days. Or maybe I'm just tired.

compose

Because I don't think I can send it to you anymore.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704281204575002852055561406.html

sensory memory

I had a dream about you night before last. You were holding my hand, rubbing your fingers over mine, comfortingly. Our heads rested together. I wanted to stay in bed, remembering that for a long time.

 

That part of me is surprised that you haven't called. 

The rational part of me isn't at all. You don't break up with people, you just drop them from rotation.

I found a perfect gift for you today. I wish it wouldn't be out of line for me to send it to you.

blacklisted

That terrible sinking feeling that I get when I see a photo of you with her.

The time I was on the brown line headed back home after a weekend with my family and I was lonely and texting you. You remembered my brother's name and where he worked. I never thought you listened when I told you things.

The time I was making my lunch for work and you were watching me, then you laughed and kissed me.

Every time you brought me tacos and how upset you'd be when they didn't get the order right.

When you fell asleep with your face in my neck and drooled all over me.

Your hand on my leg under the table at Delilah's.

Calling me bosslady.

When you picked out the perfect gift based off of a conversation we had in passing.

shrines

I wanna fall asleep to the songs you like and dream of boys who'll love me right.

Backslide

Just when I think I'm free of you the phone rings again. At my most honest, I want to keep you. I want you sweet and easy. I want you stern but fair. I want you to hold me when I need it. Hold me down when I need it. Tell me the truth. Tell me it sober. This is living proof that love is not enough.

Wish you were here.

Are you looking at this too?

It's so small. Almost invisible.

Don't worry, I'm not going soft on you.

I'm just saying, there's a slice of moon

in both our skies. It's a white smile

on its side, a nail clipping, a calcium slight.

I'm describing it in case your eyes are closed,

or you're elsewhere, engaged, distracted,

indisposed. In case you're sitting on something,

or someone.

In case you've forgotten.

In case you think you've got away.

In case she reminds you of home.

In case you're ironing your clothes

to go places you would never go with me.

-Lisa Matthews, Postcard from the Moon

New Rules

I hate when he's right. "You know we have nothing in common..." Yeah, but sometimes you need a little time to let the truth sink in. This needs to stop. Loving someone isn't enough. (And love him, I do. Even if it kills me to admit it.)