when you wake up alone
i should write. i really should. i really want to write. i wanna write about how quickly life changes. how, sometimes, it's the monumental ones that sneak up on you and clobber you over the head before you realize he doesn't love you. how, sometimes, it's the can't-take-it-back ones that topple you over and take your incredulous breath away. it's the blindspot in your rearview mirror, the hospital waiting room, the right number, the broken condom, the extra hit. in your case, it's just not feeling right.
or it has nothing to do with you. and everything to do with him and the paths he travelled before he collided with you. yeah, you didn't take that into account. you're no spring chicken, girlfriend, and at this point, everyone has baggage so why bother rummaging through his. as long as you've got some space in your closet, it's all good. yeah. problem is, some paths don't let you come back without keeping part of you there.
baggage aside, you once thought that the two of you bore matching scars. and you also thought screw the concept of the one because you conceived him as the one, godammit. you thought that finally you could stop feeling all this horseshit pressure to be happy and just be. just be unedited. just be a scribbled, crossed-out, crumpled-up first draft. you thought you thought you thought.
and now for the change. yes, you can. because if you don't, he won't. and you know what: it's really not about him. it's about you and how you get out of bed when you wake up alone. because you do. you just do.
or it has nothing to do with you. and everything to do with him and the paths he travelled before he collided with you. yeah, you didn't take that into account. you're no spring chicken, girlfriend, and at this point, everyone has baggage so why bother rummaging through his. as long as you've got some space in your closet, it's all good. yeah. problem is, some paths don't let you come back without keeping part of you there.
baggage aside, you once thought that the two of you bore matching scars. and you also thought screw the concept of the one because you conceived him as the one, godammit. you thought that finally you could stop feeling all this horseshit pressure to be happy and just be. just be unedited. just be a scribbled, crossed-out, crumpled-up first draft. you thought you thought you thought.
and now for the change. yes, you can. because if you don't, he won't. and you know what: it's really not about him. it's about you and how you get out of bed when you wake up alone. because you do. you just do.