|
| He placed his hand on the edge of the table and sighed to himself. It looked the same as it had for the past 30 years. The tablecloth neatly ironed, with two barren plates set out, and two matching mugs situated behind them. He closed his eyes and inhaled the vacant smell of coffee. "Eat your eggs dear," the voice echoed through his mind, and he saw her smile as she always did in the mornings. The newspaper was laid out on the table, and as he ran his hand across the edge, the paper cut into his fingers. He didn't seem to mind. He opened his eyes, and saw the empty seat, sighing once more he poured himself a cup of milk, and sat down in her chair. | | |
| Sometimes I forget that life isn't like a novel. That there is no perfect ending. I forget that when my heart aches, he's not going to know that I need him to fix it. I forget that when I'm walking by myself, that no-one is going to mysteriously place their hand in mine. I forget that nobody is going to sweep me up and spin me in circles, I forget that laughter dies. Sometimes I forget that the love in fairy-tales does not exist. I forget that people argue and say hateful things. For that split second, my mind is clear and everything in the universe is right. But when reality sets back in it makes me wonder if I'm wasting away my life away. I feel so trapped within rooms, and I get so used to being complacent. Am I making the right decisions? Will I be happy when it's all over? I used to feel so sure of myself. I was in no rush to die, and yet I had no fear of death, I just knew everything would work out okay, would work out the right way; the way it was supposed to. I had no doubt that God had placed a special order to the way the world revolved, that I had some purpose for living, and that I lived to fulfill that purpose. It becomes such a hard thing to believe, as the years begin to take a toll. I often wake-up and wonder what I'm doing to myself. Why am I not off escaping to the adventure I desire? Why am I sitting around day after day, letting my life slip through my fingers? When did I become somebody who does not know what to do? When did I lose the light? When did I lose my laughter? When did the stress and strain set in? When did the joy disappear? I see so much anger, and so much hate everyday, and I want nothing to do with it, and yet it consumes me. I get so angry and yet I do nothing about it. I sit and dawdle through the pain, through the hurt. I complain because it lets me know I'm still sane. If someone else understands my strife, and my anguish than it must be rational. Rational a word I was once so prone to believe has been stripped away by the feeling of irrationality. Why am I doing what I am doing? I no longer know. What keeps me going? The thought of escape, the hope for a better future, away from the pain and memories. A place with new potentials, somewhere I can start fresh. I like to pretend the things that have happened to me in my life, don't bother me, but they do. The past hurts. The loss of love hurts. Abandonment hurts. This new discovery of fear that has developed inside of me, is something I can not handle. It turns me into someone I do not know. It puts a strain on my relationship with others. It will keep me from succeeding, and I will succeed. I will. | | |
| I hate being an insecure person. Feeling like at any moment somebody better or more interesting can just come and take away someone who is important or special to me. I really shouldn't let myself become to overwhelmed by jealousy, especially of some stupid girl I don't know and he doesn't know, and yet she requested him and he accepted simply because, "they had mutual friends" So fucking what if they have mutual friends he doesn't know her, so he doesn't need to add her. It really bothers me, a lot. I suppose it wouldn't bother me so much if i was more secure in myself and our relationship, and if she already had a boyfriend, but being she's single, and that generally when people add random people it's because they think they're cute, it kind of bother me a lot. I am not perfect, and unfortunately this is something that I cannot handle well, and it makes me extremely uncomfortable. | | |
| I never thought I'd have to make the tough decisions in life, but I've now found that untrue. | | |
| I love you, but that feeling has moved past any type of sexual meaning. I no longer dream about your kiss, or touch, or care if you feel the same way. And now you say you love me, you ask me to give you another chance, ask if we can try again, but I’ve moved on. I know what you’re feeling feels real, but it’s not. You only think you love me, because right now there is no-one better. I seem so obtainable, I’m your best friend, I know you so well, and we understand each other with such ease and elegance, but ease and elegance does not equal love. I love him now, and unlike in the past, do not secretly wish he was you. There is something about me and you that I will never grow past, but I can access that with your friendship. With a simple phone call, to be able to know that somebody understands me, and in younger years I believed that was love. You grow up wanting to be with someone who makes you laugh, and who you can talk to about everything, who you can fight with and still be friends, lovers, or whatever you were before except now stronger. But I’m older now, and I know that in reality, all those little things, like religion, and ambitions, and a future, and security, are more important. I have found security in the arms of another. I think me and you; could be soul mates, bound together for eternity, but we’re not going to be lovers. I knew, from the time I was 13, that I would never be with my soul mate (if that is what you are), I wrote about it continually, story after story, where reciprocal love comes too late. Where the person she was supposed to be with, never realized, or only realized after she’d met someone else. Someone who made her happy, who she loved, someone she wouldn’t leave just because her past love suddenly realized how much she meant to him. After I visited you last, when you told me it wouldn’t work out, that you weren’t ready for a relationship. I was so ready to wait for you again, it hurt, but was some-what expected. I figured you’d come around, that you loved me enough to be serious about what you were saying. When I heard you were dating someone else, I cried and cried, I was so angry that you had lied to me, that you didn’t really love me, and it was hard to understand how you would be so cruel to me, when I tried so hard to always be there for you, to accept you despite your faults, despite our differences. I promised I would never let it happen again, that I was going to move on, that I would keep my promise to you of always being there, but that I would not fall in love with you again. I moved on, met a great guy, one who is committed to me, and I to him. No, our friendship is not a strong as mine is with you, but he offers me things you can’t. Even if you promised to be there forever, I know that won’t happen. I love you more then you will ever understand, but I’ve moved past being in love with you. I’m in love with Dustin, and although I can’t know what the future will bring, from where I am sitting right now. I will not leave him; I love him, and will fight to make it work. I was not meant to take the easy road in life, I wish we could be together, but it’s not realistic, and I think you know that. I do.
| | |
|
