I’m believing in love for the first time since I’ve ever thought more than 23 seconds about it.
Because I have to.
That doesn’t exactly sound right does it.
He says he loves me
and I believe in my love for him.
But HIS love, is going to be the dictator of what happens with us.
So after all my misunderstandings and denials and ‘ I love yous’ when I wasn’t committed, well yeah,
it makes this the ultimate love by far.
Even though I believed in others love for me before, this means the most because this is the person that knows me the most.
Others saw and loved what they were given. And it wasn’t all of me.
So all in all I’m saying that love is only at it’s truest most bestest, when you know that person knows all of you and they still want to be around you and tell you they love you. That’s the stuff you can believe in.
I’ve been in the disease of missing before. Living away from the country and people and love that was around me, things that had become giant parts of me over the years. Yeah, it’s easy to feel disconnect when you’re not surrounded by the familiars of you.
And then you’re in the city you grew up in and after experiencing that miss, it seems more severe, more hurtful and in a way…pathetic.
I’ve established that it is miss but a different miss, a different longing. And all the capabilities and potential you have around you, is what makes it stronger. You get into that whirlpool of feeling sorry for yourself and that just makes you miss ‘happy you’ even more. So now you’re not only missing what you started out missing, but the absence of feeling stable.
As powerful as homesickness can be, when you have all the tools, the language and the same culture at your hands’ existence yet only feel that one thing can fix it, you’ve kind of got it even more backwards.
I just fricken miss you and your 8 minutes away and you miss me too and I’m trying not to wait but I know I am. For you to say, ” Yeah, what are we doing. I want to be with you, I want to be with you no matter what has happened in the past. “
I know you miss me because after two days of zero contact, my phone dings at 7:08 am and it says Geeze I miss you.
Late at night I dance with beer sloshing out of my bottle
and straws flicking out of my thin, bending cup.
I’m busy on my phone
collecting up all the people I dropped in the past year.
I’m meeting people left right and center, going to the movies and having dinner by the lake.
You think I’m doing that
and not laying on the basement carpet staring at the water stains on the ceiling.
You think I’m blasting through this like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done
but I’m here
I’m flipping right here
in the square middle of my bed under my covers with new tears running over the dried tears
with no desire to see or talk to any soul but you.
I saw you a week ago. But it feels more like a month.
Sunday night I texted you around eight saying I hope you had a good weekend and that your foot was okay. You replied a few minutes later with question marks. It brought me straight away to a sad place. And as soon as it did I made motion to get out of it.
I fought away from that place with a little bit of anger and… it worked. I apoligized and kept doing what I was doing before I texted you.
Next thing I know, my phone jingles and a few jumbles of texts roll in.
‘ just cone iva and say i’m an idoit. ‘
I stare at the screen.
I don’t know what to put.
So I put nothing.
And 2 minutes later, the phone is jingling for longer and you are calling and I pick up and my theory is correct. You have been drinking.
You’d like for me to come over. “We can make nachos “, you say.
Because you know that’s one of my favourite eats. And when you realize you don’t have nachos you say, ‘but hey, the store does!’ and I say ‘ its Sunday silly’.
And then, ” Let’s have chips and dip! I have some!”
And you do and I don’t.
Because I am unable to come over. I would. If I could.
We talk for 21 minutes and I go through waves of sadness- at the stuff you’re saying, your tone. And I’m trying to build muscle in the process of the conversation so that I have enough strength to push it off of me and you can sense it and inside whirls the mass of
” I’ll be okay without this. ”
Being talked down to doesn’t feel that great. Specially when it’s done purposefully indirectly. Specially when you’ve changed and are changing and don’t need to hear negative things that happened in the past. What makes it even sadder is the fact that I know you know this. And I know you know you shouldn’t be like this.
I love you, my soulmate.
Get yourself figured out so I can show you the best me there ever was.
My t-shirt arms were wrapped around you.
And then my arms were still there but the t-shirt was not.
And your t-shirt was not either.
And there we were.
Un T-shirtin’ together.
I dropped off some spaghetti and garlic toast on your infamous front porch around 5.
Around 8pm I replied to your thanks and said Goodnight, for I was hopping into bed.
32 minutes of texts forth and back and then I was,
driving over there. Again.
I had a backwards hat on and upon 3 seconds in the door we were hugging and my face against your neck my lips brushing your skin and silence and holding and we were not not in touch the rest of the night. You didn’t even let my hand go when you led me towards the front window to see the new streetlights put in.
And this time we talked in focus. I pedaled for answers about our direction. Your feelings. If you could give me any reassurance.
But you didn’t want to give me an answer about the future. You want us to work toward personal goals without the influence of the idea of us being together or not. Which I get.
But it sure as heck is hard.
And it was.
You’re the best sex I’ve ever had.
And it’s not just because we’re broken up.
You tell me you love me and you ask if I love you and we’re in that stuff- love love love and we look into the portals of one another’s soul and all I see is pure and for all the minutes we spend till 3 in the morning – the future doesn’t matter.
What matters is these moments in that time and pedalling anywhere other than in that capsule of space, is the only place I want to be pedalling in.
The thing was,
I had a feeling. A deep pit of a feeling that you were going to contact me. I even turned my phone up and put it under my pillow so I’d hear it. I guess I just felt that enough time had went by since I dropped off the last chicken dish I made for you.
Two hours into my Snoozeland, I hear a beep boop beep.
My eyes still close, I smile. Knowing it’s you. Gotta be you.
” So no yummy dinner today? What’d I do wrong?” you joke.
14 minutes of back and forth responses and sends.
In turn has me this morning at 9 am, driving over bacon and eggs.The porch I used to sit out and have coffee with you on last summer is where I have been placing all the dropped off dishes. And so it is this place again, where I leave the steaming breakfast.
Just for you darlin’, just for you.
It dawned on me last night,
at dusk. It set into me, as my heart rose. It went to the bottom of my soul,
while my senses were in tip top. It all went down, I said, ” I’m up for this.”
Somewhere in the loins of last night, thoughts collided into my system and made all the lightbulbs in my 125 pound self, glow.
Warmth radiated off me that I was surprised, did not set the rugs a flame.
The ideas sourcing through my veins are ones I recognize from old self.
My confidence is being regained in surge and the specifics are coursing on all cylinders of my intellect.
I am done being treated the way I was.
I am finished with the distrust and disbelief.
I believe too much in my heart, my soul, the lightbulbs in my bones
the things that I KNOW.
I believe in better and healthier
and I will not launch back into that relationship until it is good and ready for us.
If ever it will be.
No matter how badly I want him to be in my life and my sons’
I’m laying down standards that were lost in the garble along the way
and I am sticking up for