(no subject)
Ever-concious that none of this really means anything, I have, in these short weeks, started to feel those pangs that come with deep comfort in another person. It's ironic: there has never been any expectation for you- for this, or for us- and so I couldn't map out the groundwork for another of my serial monogomies. Instead, you have been just unavailable enough to make me sit with myself, waiting, realizing- hey, this is nice. You are absent-minded, but it's not sadistic; there are no games or alterior motives. I have only ever known you as a cynical bachelor who only ever offered the peripheral attention that frustrates the fuck out of me. And as I learned how and when you were broken, and by whom, the bigger picture makes sense. I can't decide whether or not it is fortuitous that I don't want to fix you. I guess it's not so much a matter of wanting to fix you, as just being born without a messiah complex...or becoming so self-absorbed that I evolved beyond people-saving, like a cave fish without eyes. Either way, I like the way we sit. You are so tired all the time, and unshaven. You complain about the bullshit, but not nearly as much as you actually experience it. You can be an asshole, but you are authentic. I have never really dealt with "walls". I'm not delving into them with a hammer and great enthusiasm. I like what you have adapted into, and I like the way it makes me wait. You said that most girls eventually give up trying to be with you; I wondered if maybe I just don't have the self-respect. And then I considered my string of relationships with people who catered to me and how selfish I became in each one, and how I can really, truly suck the life out of a person and leave them to rot, if they'll let me. You require pursuit and a great deal of patience. I have never been patient, but for you, I feel like learning. I am willing because you- whoever you are and have been with me in these weeks- dragged me out of a frenzy of self-indulgent habits and made me sit calmly by myself. I know you didn't mean to, and I know this is only just barely gaining strength on your radar, but still it brings me hope. Being with you has shown me the possiblity that I can grow beyond the childish cycles and patterns I've performed until this point. Of course I hope you learn from me, too. Of course, on some level, I hope I can break down some of those walls and bring you forgotten adolescent happiness. But realistically, our time is up for now; you can barely pay adequate attention to someone sitting right in front of you, let alone across a state line. The hooks might be there, though. We might have made just enough progress that I can come back to this familiarity once or twice in the next year; you're not lost to me. When you kissed me hard on the porch, it seemed real. I'm so suspicious when you're sweet... when you held my face and said you would miss me into my mouth and I got all caught up in the color of your eyes. I told you not to be sweet. I came inside and I'm trying not to heartache. I'm trying not to be dramatic just because- let's face it- I love the hurt. But, very genuinely, I will miss you while you're gone and then while I'm at school. Wherever you are today, wherever you've been, it suits me. Even if it has been brief and inconvenient, and even if some nights we may have done more fucking than talking, and even if we can't survive outside the hot walls of my first summer of borderline independence, my time with you has been wonderful. And I never even saw it coming.