one and a half hours to go...
Being home right now feels unsettling and I am feeling that almost dull pain in my heart, or maybe it’s only in the bottom of my stomach, but in any case, it feels all too familiar. And this house and my room feel strange because for the last two years being here I have been with him. And now it’s only me sitting here. And he is no longer a part of me, or this house, or my room. And I can’t help but wish that my life were back to the way that it used to be and that this summer was going to be spent just like the last two have been.
And it’s been a year since him and me. It’s been a year and I’m still feeling that ache. And home reminds me of him. And summer. And aimless driving in my car and Phantom Planet and the beach and the nights that were spent watching the stars or watching movies or watching the way the lights spilt out across the darkness on top of Sonoma Mt. Parkway through the windshield of his car. And waiting up nights for him to call after he got off work. And that’s one of the hardest things, lying in bed at night and knowing that I won’t get anymore 12 a.m. phone calls.
And I know I’ve hurt worse than this before, but I never knew that I could still feel this stinging after so much time has passed. And it’s all this ignoring that’s confusing me and it feels as though this person that was once the closest person to me in the world has abandoned me. And I think that’s what hurts the most. Not what we have lost, although that saddens me as well, but it’s the fact that this person that once loved me has the ultimate ability to forget about me. Or maybe just to purposely not acknowledge me when I have tried so hard to make it different.
And it’s always talking to the air with him, as though I am calling, texting, writing no one at all. And he has become this silhouette that I still walk with, this shadow that’s too hazy to see in the distance. And it’s always this hazy uncertainty with him. This confusion. This back and forth, promising one thing and then doing another.
And why I am 19 in a few hours? That feels so old, haha.
I just wish so much were different.
And it’s been a year since him and me. It’s been a year and I’m still feeling that ache. And home reminds me of him. And summer. And aimless driving in my car and Phantom Planet and the beach and the nights that were spent watching the stars or watching movies or watching the way the lights spilt out across the darkness on top of Sonoma Mt. Parkway through the windshield of his car. And waiting up nights for him to call after he got off work. And that’s one of the hardest things, lying in bed at night and knowing that I won’t get anymore 12 a.m. phone calls.
And I know I’ve hurt worse than this before, but I never knew that I could still feel this stinging after so much time has passed. And it’s all this ignoring that’s confusing me and it feels as though this person that was once the closest person to me in the world has abandoned me. And I think that’s what hurts the most. Not what we have lost, although that saddens me as well, but it’s the fact that this person that once loved me has the ultimate ability to forget about me. Or maybe just to purposely not acknowledge me when I have tried so hard to make it different.
And it’s always talking to the air with him, as though I am calling, texting, writing no one at all. And he has become this silhouette that I still walk with, this shadow that’s too hazy to see in the distance. And it’s always this hazy uncertainty with him. This confusion. This back and forth, promising one thing and then doing another.
And why I am 19 in a few hours? That feels so old, haha.
I just wish so much were different.