It was four days boy. Four days after our weekend together and serious decision to stop contact. ( Again. ) And it’s always you. Calling first. Texting first. I’m not complaining about this fact, it’s flattering, hopeful, and happity, and perhaps all of those..unhealthy. Sigh..
I went away for a week in that time because I wanted to be far from you and near newness so that my mind would be on other things. But that’s when you called.
I wrote the dang email but you said although it was all nice to hear, it was vague.
And I knew that. It was all things you had heard before, I was just too chicken to write the inner more detailed stuff..of stuff about you. And us. And worry about you hacking me and those divulgences up, is why I did not. You can really cut up anything I give you. That’s true. And you have a habit of breaking my words down versus accepting them and being proactive, current and honestly… adult about it.
When I think about getting more vulnerable and putting myself out there. I cringe alittle. I’m not usually so ( a lot of us are not? ) and I’ve already placed myself in so many uncomfortable and heart on sleeve positions with you- more than I have in all my relationships put together. And I can feel happy that you still miss me and I can believe you’re coming to terms with the fact that you don’t want to be without me- but it makes me ache. You find me in this place where I’m doing a decent job at being strong alone but with the desire to really make you see and believe me. I hate the heavy lovey dovey texts I send to you that presents me with six hours of uneasy stomach and wanting to be swallowed up by tree branches and wishing I didn’t press send, yet I do it again and again and again. Much less than I was, but I still shell out seashells that taste awful in my own mouth. I fold so easily for you. And it bothers me!
We talked every night I was away. Which was totally counterproductive but I wanted you to know I wasn’t out partying- that being out of town meant I wasn’t making new friends or moving on.. I was thinking of you and you knew it. And I know it made you happy.
Anyhow, now this weekend has arrived and I will save the continuational story for another post. We are surely in the crevices of absurdity and normal. We are a million in a million relationships like this, yet this one is our own and this is turning us even more into our own. Just like it’s supposed to.