It’s that feeling the day after another failed firstdate when you’re trying to decide if you should fake it till you make it, or accept the truth in all it’s painful glory;
That the man of your dreams only exists there, and that if he’s not calling you it’s not because he’s too busy right now, it’s because he’s not interested.
It’s the moment when one does call, and you’re too wrapped up in the possibility that there might be someone out there who checks all your boxes, that you don’t see the one in front of you is more than happy to meet your highs expectations, if you’ll just let him know what they are.
So once again you’re all alone, and you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.
It’s in the moment you realize it’s been almost 2 months since you last spoke to your sister, because sometimes we fight about one thing and it uncovers one million other reasons to hold off on an apology, but more than that is it it is accepting that even the people we love do not shy away from hurting us, and if that’s not the definition of growing up then let’s not grow up at all.
It is, once again, when you find yourself taking that first sip of Earl Grey tea after abstaining for months, because that was his favorite tea, savoring the initial sweetness of it till all of a sudden the Bergamont tastes like blood and you realize you’ve been biting your tongue to keep from crying the whole time, so instead you throw the cup against a wall and watch the drips copy the pattern your tears make as they fall down your face wondering how it got so bad, wondering when they’ll name a natural disaster after him, because that’s the kind of infamy he deserves.
It is when you force your way into the bathroom and find your find friend on the floor, and the only thing you know how to do is to join her there and repeat the lines you know you’re supposed to say
it’s going to be okay or you’re going to get better, begging her to hear resolution in your words and not uncertainty and you’re trying to find a way to apologize for letting it get so bad, because you know all too well how easy it is to get sucked into a black hole, devoured in a way that only secrets can do.
So you’re sorry and he’s sorry and we’re all sorry and he’s gone and you’re misreading the signs that point home.
Maybe you’re lost or maybe you’re just stuck for as long as you want to be.