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Posts Tagged ‘crush’

Last night someone told me our love story was beautiful and sweet. Too bad its demise was tragic. I know you don’t see what I see, but what I felt was felt because of what you put out there. Your touch was gentle, your soul was kind, your eyes twinkled. The way you touched me, held me kissed me. You said you saw the baby bear in the sky, I asked where all of his/her family members were you said poppa bear and momma bear were right here. It was so sweet. The eskimo kisses, the intertwining of bodies, the way you held my hand and kissed my cheek, and bit my nose, ears and toes. Now you’re gone. I sent your life back to you, and all I got was a “thanks a bunch, I got the box”. Funny, I wasn’t sure how we would ever end, I hoped we never would, I never thought the last thing you would say to me was “thanks a bunch, I got the box”. I won’t text or email you, I have nothing to say. I told you I loved you, and you walked away. the next shot is yours to take, i’ll be waiting.

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The day dragged on the same as every other day prior with your face imbued in my mind like a mascot of defeat and despair, the image of what I once believed would bring eternal happiness now stuck hanging in the halls of my memory collecting dust where it once hung a banner of inspiration and joy, a trophy to all men. When the sun ceases to shine, when the moon fails to glimmer, when life takes on a perpetual sheen of gray the only pass time becomes an introverted assessment of our memories, the constant unanswerable question of where did it all go wrong? When did forever get so short? At what point did love become not enough?

But being brought up with the concept that love will always reign supreme given time you learn to push these incessant thoughts to the back of your mind to lay in wait till the time of your next inevitable breakdown. So I sat and desperately clung to all the passionate kisses, the romantic love letters, the daring adventures, the love making, the future plans, as if they were life itself. Just when misery became the closest thing to happiness that I could hope to achieve I received a text from the only person capable of curing my plight it should have revived me and brought me back to the living but instead it pushed me below rock bottom, the text informed me of a change in the dynamics of the situation, she was happily in a relationship with some guy. A million images raced through my mind, her holding his hand the way she held mine, her kissing his cheek the way she kissed mine, her loving him the way she loved me. The world had stopped spinning I was stuck in purgatory my chest got tight, my hands started shaking, my vision went blurry, I was swamped with an overwhelming sense of nausea I reached for the only thing that had sustained me this far, to my horror the bottle was empty chucking the bottle at the wall I scrambled for the carton of cigarettes, empty. I’m not sure how I made it through that night if truth be told I don’t remember anything after that point just the comforting warmth of nothing.

The next two months I wasn’t alive I was in some form of a coma, yes I was there I would hear you and I would answer, but I wasn’t there not a hint of emotion, not sadness, not happiness, just nothing. Word reached me that she had broken up with her now former flame, the relief was instant. It was as if someone had stabbed me in the chest with an adrenaline needle, I allowed myself the privilege of hope. We began to talk again, at first I was reserved till I came to the conclusion that I had to be the old me, the one she had fallen in love, with not the deteriorating carcass of that man. Like all great actors I had to convince myself of the part I had to be the part so I resumed my social life I think I even found myself again at least for a time. We talked about the old times and how we still loved each other and how we were meant to be. From there it evolved into me bringing her flowers sleep overs the stupid laughs the endless kisses, til the next devastating blow to my heart was dealt, she had a new boyfriend. My shock was palpable to all around my mutilated heart visible to all to see. Still I was ensured that we would eventually be together, then it dawned on me we were over our era had ended the fairy tale had come to a tragic closing it was never again going to happen, I was merely the half time show, the fluffer in between scenes, and thats when I decided once was enough for one lifetime.

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I still see you, you know.

In my dreams, you’re staring at me with those seemingly empty crystal blue eyes and telling me, “no more”.

When I open my eyes,
I adjust my body as if you were still there,
reaching across the mattress to lay my arm gently over my pillow and pull it between my legs.
My body aches to be intertwined with yours.
Especially in the morning sunlight.

I see you on my way to work.
Laughing, or arguing, but most likely in groggy silence,
in the December air, while driving to Cambridge.
With the window down, I can still smell your cigarette smoke.

In the evenings, I see you at my front door.
Rosy cheeks and shivering, a meek smile, your shiny gold back pack.
A light kiss and lingering hug.
I want it to linger longer.

At the kitchen sink, soapy water bubbles over brims of bowls
As I feel your skinny fingers reach for me and fumble around my waist
You rest your warm cheek against my neck
I am holding you up.
And I shiver with the pressure.

I climb the stairs to my bedroom, your ghost does not follow.
The air is heavy, it weighs down hard on my chest.
Frantically, I push the tears back from eyes.
You hate it when I cry.

In bed, thoughts of you with your head between her legs seduce me like the devil clawing his way through my brain.
All consuming pain rushes through me.
Creeping from my chest, to the pit of my stomach, to the tips of my toes.

“Sleep,” you say.
“Goodnight,” I whisper to myself in the dark, hoping you hear me.

You are dead to me.

But I still see you.

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A year ago I met you. A month later we had our first date, 6 months later you left. I never told you this because the past is the past, however I have been with so many men in my life that it all adds up. When everyone else was in long lasting relationships I was just shacking up. So when I met you, I knew our time together was special from the first night. I knew we clicked. You just got me. I knew I would have a really hard time letting you go, you didn’t make it easy. I wish I could hate you and move on, my girlfriends aren’t to fond of you- however they are desperate and when the relationship doesn’t amount to a “bf/gf” status within a month they are ready to kick their men to the curb. Though prior to the non status change they were oh so in “love”. I was oh so in love, for the right reasons, I think. If you take into account that you learn something from each relationship you encounter then I have to say I have learned a lot about love, men, dating, sex etc.

And you were different, We were different and this is why I can’t move on. I write you notes all the time, obviously they always go unsent- because why bother, it won’t bring you back and may even scare you. So the email you sent me the other day, made me realize that you, us we were different then anything I had ever experienced before. You are not my bf, and you told me yourself probably wouldn’t be for at least 5 years, because that’s when you thought you would be the right age to be someone’s bf. I don’t think it was an excuse, you were logical and it made sense. Our age difference is so crucial in how this all plays out, I’m not going to tell you this, but I want babies, I am in the right place in my life- however I would never want to rob you of your 20’s, I think those are important times for a young stud such as yourself.

I never felt as free as I feel with you. Even though we shoot a couple of monthly emails and have not seen each other in 6 months, somewhere inside my mind I have hope. I know that my heart is safe with you, maybe it’s because you haven’t found anyone else to love, IDK nor do I want to know. I feel safe with you. I told you I missed you yesterday, and you told me you missed me too. That made me feel safe. It’s just a feeling I get when you are on the other end of the computer, or all the times we shared. Being with you I let it all go, told you my hopes, dreams, wants, wishes and fears. I think you shared yours with me (even though yours will change over time). You wanted to help me get over my biggest fear just to prove to me that being fearful is pointless, and that if my fear happens no big deal you would be right there to help me. I like your honesty, or at least I hope you are honest- my gut tells me you are. My intuition tells me, to trust my gut so I am.

I could probably be away from you forever and never fill the void, I hope it’s not the case. I’m just not sure how we would really ever make this work. You hate NY- NY is my life. I want to be your friend forever but I know there’s going to come a point when it will hurt too much and I will have to say goodbye forever……

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I heard a story about you today, it made my heart skip a beat and cry even more. You gave yourself two black eyes last christmas because you were alone, and depressed. I hate that. I love you. You left and pushed me away, you never responded. Fuck you. I wish you were here next to me now, I wish I could hug you and save you from yourself. I love you so much but why can’t you let anyone in. I didn’t realize you did not go home to live with your parents because you do not like them. I am sad about that too. I don’t get it, what could make you hate everyone and everything so much? You are a likable person, trust me if you were not I would not have fallen in love with you. The things you said to me, the way you made me feel. In my entire life noone has ever made me feel as special as you made me feel. You always knew exactly what to say. you wanted to comfort me, you followed me down the block to make sure I was ok. You bought me pepper spray so I would be safe while you were not around to protect me. You held my hand, you gave me chills. You told me I was an amazing looking adult. You told me the only time you were happy was when you were with me. Let me make you happy- I love you so……come back..yes eternally hopeful.

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I wrote down a list of books on a scrap paper and drove to the bookstore this morning. I was in search of self-help mainly, and a few scattered feminist novels because at 3 months I’m still in need of cheap therapy to move on from you. But, I didn’t make it to self-help. I don’t want some book to put you, me, or us in a box and to rationalize my experience. I don’t want a false guide to trash you and tell me my dream was unreal. Life is only the story you give to it. “We” were only ever the stories each of us gave to “us.” There is no other reality than that – for others to think there is one version of the truth is foolhardy. Those people enjoy sameness and feel satisfied when life turns out shitty – just the way they predicted it would. I do live in an imaginary world, but it’s always been a place I’d rather be. You are there – and you are lovely.

So, I bypassed the self-help section because the pull of the fantasy room drew me in too deep. The fantasy room at Powell’s bookstore is you. It is the center surrounded by all the other room’s colors. Adjoining it to the left is orange for business; blue to the right for fiction. Directly above is red for religion and foreign language, and above that is purple for politics and law. But you, right in the middle of the massive warehouse, are gold – a metal, not a color. The room is protective of the readers that wander its shelves, just like you – always pulling outsiders in. The readers feed back a shared and unspoken secret that lies in the acceptance of a transgressive world.

I sat down on one of the benches and watched how a reader scans the shelf for his book. Before he lifts it off, he will touch and admire the spines of all the others, hence completed from a series or from a favorite author, remembering the beginning and the journey fondly. Then he will select his book. Each reader knows the immediate urgency for the next book, to read all 920 pages of the 14th installment of the series (and sometimes before he can get to the cash register). There is no other room where so many of the customers post up and read – one is lucky to find a seat! But, at the same time, no one is actually present in this room. For this is not a room, it is a portal. The eyes of each reader relaxed and set in the direction of, and becalmed in, a far-away distant world.

Maybe this is what happened between you and me. The fantasy of us enveloped both of us in the beginning. Then, the reality didn’t match the fantasy and you lost interest. You went back to your tried and true fantasies. If only you would give me another chance, I would be a portal for you into a world that is not this world. I cannot understand why you left me, but I think I may understand why you left for the woods. It only makes sense that you are out in the wilderness in another fantasy adventure.

The ruin of it all is that I wouldn’t have seen you like I see you now had you stayed. I was caught up in fear and too overworked to see you and honor you like I should have. With your absence, I have all the time in the world to think about it. Do you think about me? Is there a place in you that you have reserved a possibility for you and me or have you foreclosed us completely. It bewilders the mind to think – can it be possible for only me to feel this way? Is this the way a mother feels about her children? A one-sided love? Can romantic love exist in only one person?

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So this is it. December 21, today was my last day of school. And I am on winter vacation for the next 10 days. I am frustrated because you are so far away. I am sad because you did not respond to my last email (November 15) and lonely because you made me feel so safe in your arms.

Every time I go on a date with someone else and they ask me what I am looking for, I look at them blankly and say you, in my head of course not out loud- and then I know I can never go out with them again.

I wish It was not so hard for me to let the thought of you go. Sometimes I am scared that if I let the thought of you go, that means I have let you go and if I let you go then no on will occupy my thoughts, and if I am feeling sad there will be empty space where your memory was and I am just not ready to lose the memory. Why is it so hard for me? We met in January of last year. Our first date was February 10, 2012. Almost 1 year ago.

I wish you would come back. Not for a day, a week or a month. I want you in my life, until our relationship comes to an end. Not because you moved away or ran out of money, but because we mutually agreed that our love no longer has any meaning.IDk

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