He can only hold her...
It's almost 6am and I'm sitting in O'Hare Airport in Chicago, IL. I am halfway home from an incredible first visit to Southern California.
Ever since we met, Rob and I seriously have not been able to stay away from each other. It's the most irritating and comfortable thing I think I've ever experienced.
This semester I finally made up my mind: I'm going to grad school in North Carolina. This would be great if I were free to pick up and move with all of my shit and Cash kitty. Alas, I was in the middle of a wonderful and hellish...relationship. (I hate the "r" word. I'm not one to be a skank, I'm just scared of relationships. It's pretty much the kiss of death to any of my strong connections.) I finally broke the news to Rob after one of the many fights that we've been having lately, and he said that after I returned from the trip to SoCal, we should probably just call it quits so nobody gets hurt too badly.
Obviously, I'm only 4 hours past a really fucking painful final split. We've done nothing but argue for 2 or 3 weeks and I kept repeating to myself "I'm done! I'm fucking done with this!" As soon as I passed through LAX security and sat down at my gate, I began to cry. The night flight masked my tears as well, even though everyone was asleep anyway. The wound is fresh and I'm a walking trainwreck. I want to curl up in a ball and just sleep for a week. It's as if unconsciousness would heal the wounds and I would wake up like I did before I met him...like nothing ever happened.
This, my friends, will never be the case. I loved him too much and fell into a pretty remarkable relationship. This will not be easily forgotten, but hopefully we'll both grow. It's better this way but, damn...it fucking blows.
Ever since we met, Rob and I seriously have not been able to stay away from each other. It's the most irritating and comfortable thing I think I've ever experienced.
This semester I finally made up my mind: I'm going to grad school in North Carolina. This would be great if I were free to pick up and move with all of my shit and Cash kitty. Alas, I was in the middle of a wonderful and hellish...relationship. (I hate the "r" word. I'm not one to be a skank, I'm just scared of relationships. It's pretty much the kiss of death to any of my strong connections.) I finally broke the news to Rob after one of the many fights that we've been having lately, and he said that after I returned from the trip to SoCal, we should probably just call it quits so nobody gets hurt too badly.
Obviously, I'm only 4 hours past a really fucking painful final split. We've done nothing but argue for 2 or 3 weeks and I kept repeating to myself "I'm done! I'm fucking done with this!" As soon as I passed through LAX security and sat down at my gate, I began to cry. The night flight masked my tears as well, even though everyone was asleep anyway. The wound is fresh and I'm a walking trainwreck. I want to curl up in a ball and just sleep for a week. It's as if unconsciousness would heal the wounds and I would wake up like I did before I met him...like nothing ever happened.
This, my friends, will never be the case. I loved him too much and fell into a pretty remarkable relationship. This will not be easily forgotten, but hopefully we'll both grow. It's better this way but, damn...it fucking blows.