The Ones I Love, Part Two: 2012
Never has one been so sure of her life's choices than when she's gullet-deep in steak sauce and being riveted by a Shamwow infomercial in a bar at 2am.
After one disastrous sort-of relationship, and a loss of friend for Ben due to said disaster, and more post-production blues (caused by some great tech-week work I helped create not making the final cut for the performance) having me second-guess my career, I found myself feeling pretty lune.
A whole year passed with nothing but a few misfirings in the lunar bits. Except one solid hiccough. One minor heartbreak, caused by a friend, and sort of crush. Very crush. Okay, I fell for him ages ago, and the feelings have bubbled back up again. He'd moved away, and my heart sank. When he came back, just a week ago, he blew a hole in the bottom of my ship. And I sank with it this time. He didn't tell me he came back. Only for a week, he said. We could have had a week, but I saw him waiting for his bus back out of town. He has a distinctive way of holding his cigarette between his lips, like James Dean, like Jeremy Irons, like my beloved Camus. He half-heartedly apologized, but never looked at me. He thumbed the numbers on his phone non-stop. The Big Apple has changed him so much. He never liked the idea of texting before, and weeks later, when I tried to text, and even call, he snubbed me.
Forever, I'll always desire nothing more than to return to that time when I only cared for characters in my books, the CD player on the fritz, and the weather's decisions to allow me to eat lunch on the rooftop. Alas, it's now a time where I stay awake nights to allow my fantasies of what might (not) be slap me in the face with what would (will) be.
I admitted my crush because it felt different than before, or other crushes. Like this time had more urgency, more reality than my early 20s college-girl romances.
That would have been much easier to handle. Fuck.
Ben said I need to get a life, but immediately knew it was Zeke who gripped my heartstrings like an amateur fiddler. I should at least fall for people who would call me back, that's what Ben said. I told him that I'd still feel for him, even though it hurt, and when I finished that text, I checked the book of faces to see that he'd de-friended my account.
"I think I just got over something," I declared.
And then I met someone new.
After one disastrous sort-of relationship, and a loss of friend for Ben due to said disaster, and more post-production blues (caused by some great tech-week work I helped create not making the final cut for the performance) having me second-guess my career, I found myself feeling pretty lune.
A whole year passed with nothing but a few misfirings in the lunar bits. Except one solid hiccough. One minor heartbreak, caused by a friend, and sort of crush. Very crush. Okay, I fell for him ages ago, and the feelings have bubbled back up again. He'd moved away, and my heart sank. When he came back, just a week ago, he blew a hole in the bottom of my ship. And I sank with it this time. He didn't tell me he came back. Only for a week, he said. We could have had a week, but I saw him waiting for his bus back out of town. He has a distinctive way of holding his cigarette between his lips, like James Dean, like Jeremy Irons, like my beloved Camus. He half-heartedly apologized, but never looked at me. He thumbed the numbers on his phone non-stop. The Big Apple has changed him so much. He never liked the idea of texting before, and weeks later, when I tried to text, and even call, he snubbed me.
Forever, I'll always desire nothing more than to return to that time when I only cared for characters in my books, the CD player on the fritz, and the weather's decisions to allow me to eat lunch on the rooftop. Alas, it's now a time where I stay awake nights to allow my fantasies of what might (not) be slap me in the face with what would (will) be.
I admitted my crush because it felt different than before, or other crushes. Like this time had more urgency, more reality than my early 20s college-girl romances.
That would have been much easier to handle. Fuck.
Ben said I need to get a life, but immediately knew it was Zeke who gripped my heartstrings like an amateur fiddler. I should at least fall for people who would call me back, that's what Ben said. I told him that I'd still feel for him, even though it hurt, and when I finished that text, I checked the book of faces to see that he'd de-friended my account.
"I think I just got over something," I declared.
And then I met someone new.