The Absence

  I swear my fingers are just running across the keyboard as I think, typing whatever comes to mind. Garnet yarn beside me waiting to be knotted into a scarf. And just a few more hours and ill be in touch with that handsome sweet R, he makes me smile, makes me really happy. I hope he's as genuine as he says he is...I have a feeling he's not though. 
  Crazy hasn't spoken to me today. Not that he's obligated to.. But he crosses my mind a lot. I wonder what he's doing and if he misses me any, or if this really is the choice he wanted. It must be or otherwise he would have come to me begging. Since he has not, perhaps he has not realized how great of a girlfriend I was to him yet. Maybe he needs to meet a few more girls. He probably needs to turn 21 just like his mother suggested Adam grew up then... Maybe that's when Crazy will too.
  I do not know. In the mean time though, I want him to miss me. I want him to have to think about me all the time, just like I have to. When I look at bates west, or eat a muscadine, or think of Nelly because of old pics on my computer, or be reminded of him when I notice how much I like the color yellow, or when I put on moms perfume- the only one he ever complimented me on, or before I fall asleep at night pondering what his bed feels like without me there, wondering if he feels my absence on that side of the bed, or if me not being there is no different. 
  I wonder if his head needs scratching sometimes or his back scratched, and I wonder if he wishes he had me to do it still. I wonder if he folds clothes slowly in solitude and wishes I could do it for him. I wonder if he ever craves our love life or wishes he could have me in bed with him for the night. I wonder if the beer pong table is taunted with my existence, or if it never crosses his mind.
   I wonder if he gets in his truck and wishes I was in the passenger seat. I wonder if he drinks himself into a mist of thoughts and sees me. I wonder if I'm there with him still, or if he's let me go. I wonder how long it will take before I don't have to think about him again. I wonder if someone else will buy me flowers because they want to, not because they feel obligated to. I wonder if he thinks of our anniversaries when he goes to mellow mushroom. I wonder If he can even bare to go.
   I wonder if he sees the beach and sees my face. I wonder if he wishes he had kissed me more. Or maybe if he longs to hold my hand now that he can't. I wonder if he will miss me. I wonder if Nelly reminds him of me sometimes. I wonder if he sees his mom and remembers how well we got along. I wonder if his dad's couch feels somewhat empty without me next to him. I wonder if his old bedroom reminds him of us.

  I know that I will always see Pembroke Avenue and think, that's where my first love and I grew closer together. That's where it all started, in that house, in that room, in front of that tv in his room.. just sitting on the floor. In his Pontiac behind the baseball field. At lizards thicket and D's wings.
  I hope he misses me, because I miss what we had. I don't want our ending relationship back, but I do want the type of relationship we initially started out with. Minus the whole him being a lair from the beginning. I hope I'm never stupid enough to date him again. I hope I never have to feel the way I did when we broke up all those times again.
 I hope I never have to feel the immense betrayal I felt and still feel. To be separated from the love of your life by their own words.

  To have them take themselves away from you saying they feel like they're
breaking their own heart when they never even took into consideration that they'd be breaking yours first. He will never understand what he did to me because he never fell in love with me on the level that I loved him. He never truly opened up to me. 
  So when we parted, he wasn't being rejected, his mask was. I on the other hand, had been laid out on a table an open book, and was being rejected. It was so much more personal for me, because he was leaving all that I was, not some front. He was willing to give me up knowing all the things he knows about me and feel like he was making the right decision. He was actually breaking my heart, not his own. He really has no idea. He really has no clue how much he has messed up and continues to each passing day that goes by.
He will never get my love and affection the way he did. He can't anymore, I won't let him. And neither will the rest of the world. 

Morphing Reality

"Its about what you do, not what you say."
I'm not going to try and convince myself that I dont want it just because I can't have it. I know what I'm looking for, I'm just having trouble morphing it with reality. Its hard when the real world hands you the truth and it's not what you want. It's even harder when the logical voices around you actually make since.

Rare Times

  For the first time in a while I'm actually home for dinner. Mom cooked spaghetti and we are waiting on my brother and his wife to get here. I already know that we are going to have a great time and this is going to be one of those nights that I will be able to recall for years to come. It feels so rare, like it's Christmas. Our dining room has this calm blue and deep red theme with the occasional hint of dark green. It's strange and great at the same time.
  They just arrived.

Long Boarding By

  Today is...patient. I'm standing on line for my cheeseburger at the ballpark café. Hoping I don't run into Crazy. Not that he would honestly be here on a Saturday morning. In fact, I don't even think he has a meal plan so none of my worries are remotely valid. Yet I still find myself fearing the moment when I do see him again, I just know ill have my guard down and do something wrong. That is why I'm constantly walking around with a wall guarding me wherever I go on campus. I don't want to see him because I know that it will reinforce that we are no longer together. 
  I love people who can just be themselves. Do what they feel like doing, say what they feel within reason and not fear being judged. People who are just who they are. It's hard for me to imagine ever riding a long board, even though I think it would be fun, I don't have the courage to parade it around campus. I wish I did. So it never fails when I see someone with a long board, I crave to know them. I respect them. I want them to be a part of my life, because those are the people who succeed in life. They have this easy going air about them, in the way they just glide past me swooshing their boards from left to right. I feel the motion with them, calmly swaying back and forth. That's how they live, they just easily glide through life occasionally giving a little push with their foot, but never loosing control.
  I guess that's what I hate the most about break ups, they involve two people. You have no control over the other person; you can't dictate how they react. You can't make them say things, and as a result, you can't control where or how fast you're going. You can't even own a long board.
  All you can do is walk. No way to calmly get by. I hate they motions of my walk. They're jagged rough stomps and trips intertwined together. I don't any control, my feet just flap against the brick ground as they wish, guided by whatever amount of restraint or freedom I feel at the moment. Everything's guided by emotion, and the majority of the calmness I do portray is artificial. It's all pulled up to the surface from my out going closet buried deep within, and sadly, it often just attempts placid.