I feel like I need to be alone, and on the surface I am already alone. In my bedroom. Door closed. Music blasting. Completely alone. And I still feel like I'm crawling out of my skin to be alone. This is what love does to a person.
I cannot get him out of my fucking head. I promise myself everyday when I wake up that I'm just not going to talk to him. I'm not going to respond to his texts or his calls, and it never works. I know if I could just cut off all means of communication with him that I would be able to get over it. The fact that I am unable to stop talking to him scares me more than anything.
Therefore, I don't feel alone, even when I am.
I'm leaving this place, but there is nothing I'm planning to take
Just you, just you, just you, just you
I want so bad not to care about him. I want so bad for none of this to have ever happened. But he still makes me smile like no one else can. He still knows exactly what I'm thinking every single time. He can read me so easily and it scares the shit out of me, but at the same time I am just happy that I have found someone who knows me so well and likes me anyway.
He told me that I scare him. He told me that the way he analyzes me scares him. And I just don't know if this is going to go on forever--us dancing around our emotions, or if eventually it's going to blow up in our faces. The pessimist in me says there is no way this will end anywhere near good. The hopeless romantic that is buried somewhere deep inside of me and never shows herself knows that I have never felt this way about anyone in my entire life. It is so unbelievably cliche that it kills me. I hate admitting that. I really, really do, and I will never tell him, but it is so, so true. Seriously, Erika?! Fucking seriously?!!?! This guy has a whole life outside of me. He has a wife and children. I should not be anywhere near the top of his "things to do" list everyday. And I feel like I am. He says "good morning" every morning like he means it. It's been so long since someone has said anything to me and meant it.
When the smoke came out of our mouths
On all those hooded sweatshirt walks
You were a stroke of luck
We were a gold mine gutted, and they gutted us
And from the sidelines you see me run
Until I'm out of breath
Living the good life I left for dead
The sorrowful Midwest
Well, I did my best
To keep my head.
It was grass-stained jeans and incompletes
And a girl from class to touch
But you think about yourself too much
And you ruin who you love
Well, all these claims at consciousness--
My stray dog freedom
Let's have a nice, clean cut
Like a bag we buy and divvy up
And from the sidelines I see you run
Until you're out of breath
And all those white lines that sped us up
We hurry to our death
Well, I lagged behind, so you got ahead.
That is a perfect song right now. Absolutely perfect.
Why do things have to play out this way? I just want to cry and I fucking don't think I remember how to cry.
I am so tired of being dependent on substances to make life choices. I am so tired of being dependent on other people to tell me how to fix all of this. I just wish I knew what was best. The problem is, I know exactly what I want, and I will never give up that little bit of optimism. Until that optimism fades, I will be perpetually stuck in limbo as the dirty mistress, the other girl, the fling, "the woman he's having an affair with"--yes, that's me. Congratulations, Erika. You have gotten everything you've ever wanted--a man completely unavailable to you so you can run away whenever you want. Job well done.