They keep asking me am I okay.. and I can’t lie, I am okay. But faber drive… faber drive is keeping me up late at night today.
am i the fool, am i a victim
I’d rather know,
you’d rather kiss her, good night, tonight, I’m blinded
i try, i tried
is this the way, is this the way, it ends
I hate how every song on my playlist spirals into thoughts of him, I hate how I can’t look at a single place in my room without some piece of him there; his pillow, his perfume, his shirt, his books, his toys. I hate how my saturday’s are just empty. I hate how we had such synchronized lives where every day feels empty, now that i don’t have him to share it with. I’m sure i packed away what he might need if he stayed over again, and sent packing with him whatever he shouldn’t keep here anymore. But how do I unburden my heart and my mind of all the thoughts and technicalities of logic I’d placed to keep him around.
So this is what your first heart ache with a real romance feels like. Like phantom pieces of glass stuck in your ribs from the inside.
I’d known from the start it was going to end, and then there were all the signs of how it was definitely not going to end well. And then it ended, and it didn’t end well as expected. I did what I did, and gone was the week I thought I had to savor the last of what we shared together. I had it revised. I never have conversations that were not even the least rehearsed in my mind. But there he was ready to burst into tears whenever I looked away, his heart……. just torn.
It was not supposed to end like this. I was not supposed to talk to him about something this precious stuck in a train ride from hell. There was wine to be had, there was dinner i’d planned on, i’d hold his arm, or let my fingers trace his perfect cuticles and look into those amber eyes and just….. tell him, tell him from the bottom of my heart, the truth finally… irrelevant of how he took it.
But lifes like that… life, the ruiner of mentally calculated plans that are yet to be articulated for optimal effect.
Now i was left with a version of him I’d never seen before, and a version of him that had to kiss her goodbye just to get me to safety. It was over before this trip began, because those lips can never touch mine now.. not like they ever could, but there was always hope until that kiss. Till our kiss… if it happened. Hope against all hope, now forever lost in oblivion.
I just wanted to hold him in my arms and tell him everything will be okay. I just wanted to hug him… let my fingers carefully soothe away the weight of being him, right now.. and who he really was, always. Tell him that i didn’t need absolutes or answers.. Just take my love, take my comfort and just..rest for awhile. Just know that everything will be okay, or I damn well would kill to give it to him. Put a hand over his heart and just will it to be happy again, like he is with me most times… drunk, and happy. That I would give him a future, anything he’d wanted, just rest on me, and I’d take care of it, even if it meant i would have to bear the pain of leaving his side for an agonizing second. And all i wanted in return was to acknowledge my love. Not sex, not affection, not understanding, not pity, definitely not ignorance or what’s happening now. Not… nothing happend.
Not “He just needs some space. We just need a break..from each other”. I never thought Space could sound so ugly
I’d read about it before.. I could use the word in a sentence… but I never thought I’d come to emote what it truly meant to be in despair at the young age of 25. He just turned 20, a week ago. And here he was…….. caught in a maelstrom of his own emotions. I’d like to teach him that word.. make a silly joke about it only we’d understand, like how in the future we’d be joking about how I almost got arrested for taking the fight to his psycho-ex-girlfriend. Me the…. ‘friend’. The one that loved him in a way he’ll never understand. I’d like to be over him by then. I’d like loving him to be a distant memory, an embarrassing joke only close friends were allowed to make.
they warned me it would end. I knew it would end. Just didn’t think it would be this soon, and for this reason. And loosing him as it ends wouldn’t be this severe. Even though I understand it needs to be this brutal… he was just to exquisite to forget from real life without this great disappearing act.
I’m writing this, as it ends.. the last hopes and dreams and desires i have for him die and stop distracting me from moving on with my life.. without him. They say it take 21 days to develop any kind of habit.. I’m giving myself 42 just to be safe without him in my life, sparing my weak moments of socially acceptable conversation to dull the ache occasionally. And sadly, he makes me wonder whether he even understand what I’m feeling.. correction, what I felt for him. and what I was ready to do for him, with or without his approval, to give him a chance at happiness.
I’m in a sudden mood for movies that have tragic endings for unrequited lovers. I hope that with each day I see him, with each instance we’re forced to be in the same social situation it hurts less right in the middle of my chest, physically. And i hope to god it isn’t all the cigarettes i’ve suddenly doubled… My mother is definitely not going to to take heartbreak as an excuse.
I know falling out of love is painful and slow.. almost as tricky as falling in love was. i wonder if we can still be friends… i hear it doesn’t work like that at all. But i’d like to try… even as devastating as it feels seeing him fall for someone else might be. But time heals all wounds, even the ones we can’t get to the usual way.