Kyle

beautiful, Hope, Humanist, Journal, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

I went on my first date with Kyle today, and I say it like that because I know there are going to be more. He was funny, understanding, interested, intelligent, and cute. His face has very soft features and then a nice, defined jaw. Plus he’s 6’1. And an athlete. We connected on a lot of different things, we share a lot of the same interests and philosophies on life and relationships. He’s a computer science major, which is sorta my thing.

We got coffee today at 10:30, and I didn’t leave until 3:30- when he had practice. We got coffee, went for a short walk and ended up at Barnes and Noble where we compared the authors we had read and joked about other people, then we got lunch at a Thai place- because he’d never had Thai food before. After lunch, he invited me to come back with him to campus and I sat with him while he worked on a group project for his technical writing class (funny he was taking one, right?) we bonded and laughed over little things regarding technical writing, physics, and astronomy- also can we just marvel at the fact that he ordered a cappuccino, because my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I love a good cappuccino.

Anyway, after his group project was over we went back to his dorm. He left to go change, and I chatted with his roommate while I sat on his bed. Then when he came back, his roommate left, and there was this moment when I was sitting on his bed and he was pretty close to me and I could feel that electric energy that I always feel before a good kiss. His face was close enough to mine that it felt intimate, but up until that point, the most touching we had done was accidentally bumping into one another. I think I could really like this guy, and in the past, I’ve unnecessarily rushed things. I want to have a real bond with this guy. So I didn’t kiss him, instead, I got up and was like “hahah gotta go”.

There’s no reason to rush into things.

Can I just mention that when we got there, and my first reaction to him was feeling like I was seeing an old friend? Also, we matched- we were wearing the exact same shade of green. It looked like we tried to coordinate.

He’s super clean, which was nice. We love the same board games, listen to a lot of the same music, and we are both from the valley.

Okay, I’ll marry him.

There’s only like three things I didn’t care for. He is a big guy- like he’s toned, but he’s just broad by nature. He was a little too quiet at times. His sense of humor was just not my own.

That said, I like the guy a lot. He is literally the most considerate guy so far. I hope that wasn’t just the first date sorta thing.

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res·o·nant

Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

Everything that I have been through recently, all of the things I have experienced, it points to one thing.

I do care deeply about Leo, but he is not as significant for my life as I used to imagine.

When I was with Sam in San Francisco, I recognized how important it was for me to be with someone who was transparent and not that artificial. I was craving something more, something that I could only describe as a connection.

When I was with Donnie, I felt that same way- but he wasn’t as artificial. We weren’t connecting, though. Even though we talked about incredibly deep topics, and opened up to one another. We shared our stories of suicide attempts, our fucked up families, and emotionally unstable relationships. We talked late into the night about our deepest fears and desires. But, something major was missing for me. Something that I strive to give to other people.

When I was with Alfred, I neither connected with him or thought he was genuine. He masqueraded his expensive artwork and google home setup, but was so far gone from himself that I don’t think he was capable of emotionally opening up at that moment. I was missing it there, too.

When I was with T, we connected on a surface level, but I always felt misunderstood by him. I felt like he didn’t bother trying to understand who I was, and maybe it’s my own artificial bullshit, but I do believe that there is a lot to understand about me if someone tried. Both good and bad, I am a deep and flourishing river of things to be dissected and cherished. When I am in love with someone, that is what I do- I try to understand who they are. I try to understand what makes them tick, the in’s and out’s of what they desire, value, and their experiences. I care. That is how I care.

Last night with Leo, I was really drunk for a while. I forget everything that happened, but I know I opened up. I was really honest. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, my motivations were purely instinctual.

I realize now, I value being understood. Leo doesn’t understand me, he assumes a lot about me that I don’t believe is true. He has a really cynical world-view about everyone being selfish, and I don’t believe that is entirely true. I believe that we can become selfless. That is what I am trying to do.

I invited him to tell me all of the hurtful things that he assumed and believed about me, and he did. There was a lot. He called me naive, and I am. He said that I was manipulative, and I have been, but I work on that (with T, I wasn’t manipulative, which told me that I can be morally strong.) He started to tell me about Riley, and I had to stop him. At which point he said that it proved why people didn’t want to say hurtful things. He also called me emotional and said that he rolled his eyes internally because it seemed like I was trying too hard to prove my cynical worldview. Like I was just following the script of what I should be doing, aka being unoriginal in my efforts. He said he never felt what I felt for him, but that he cared. He cared and he was nice to me to help mask the fact that I was hurt, to try and make things better because that’s his nature.

There’s truth in what he said.

I wanted to be understood by someone else, the way I understood him. I wanted things to magically fall into place, for us to equally understand one another and all that la-di-da bullshit. That’s the naivety. The very real naivety. The part of me that would linger by Box Office after I got off work and giddily stare into his eyes before I would head home. I don’t hate that part of me, it hasn’t gotten me in trouble, it has just hurt me. I think that pain I have felt was an important part of the human experience.

Just like there’s truth in the manipulation- that’s a part of me that I actively extinguish now. She’s bitter. She’s angry. She’s mad at the world for always bringing injustice, where of course I am the Just and those who get everything are the Injust. It’s wrong. I do wrong. I am often much worse than I should be. And that part of me, she rips the photos of Vanessa in the breakroom. She gossips and weasels her way into drama. She is stern. She is a bitch. She thinks that being uptight will somehow achieve her end goals, that being cold and snarky will somehow garner respect. It doesn’t. Ripping up photos of other girls, gossiping, being cold, none of those things are respectable.

But Leo is right that it exists within me.

He’s right that I am emotional, but I want to understand it instead of getting rid of it. Too many people wander through life ignoring how they feel, and I won’t be one of them. I don’t want to be an explosion of emotions though. I want my emotions to be reasonable and in control. Perhaps that’s the next journey I will go on, emotional maturity.

He’s right that the world can be selfish and will consistently hurt you, and maybe this is just my naivety coming out to play, but I hold myself to a higher standard. I will work toward being morally in-tune with myself and my actions. Maybe I should adopt the whole notion that what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Maybe just for the time being.

I need to stop emotionally exhausting myself in situations that aren’t important.

What is important?

The moment? Family? Having a sense of purpose? Success, however it is that you define it? Love? Is love important? Are the mementos important?

I gauge what is important through my heart, what I am called to and called to do- that’s important. But I’m completely questioning it now because I thought my heart was calling for me to love Leo, I thought that it was important. I thought it was some version of destiny or fate calling to me to do what was supposed to be done.

I don’t regret listening to my heart. It’s never directed me in a path that ended up being wrong for me-

So what about Leo, then? Your heart called you there. Maybe not because you two were destined to fall in love with each other, but because he could teach you something important.

I know that I have improved who I am incredible amounts since I’ve had feelings for him. I have learned the truest parts of who I am, and the negative attributes that I have acquired through pain. I have become a more genuine me. The me I have always known I was- and I’m not done, I’m nowhere near finished on my path toward being a more sincere person. But I have made progress.

Maybe that’s why my heart was drawn to Leo. His influence in my life not only helped me grow, but it has helped me work on my biggest flaws. I could be the most giving person in the world, but if I continued to rip up the pictures of other girls and gossip and be nasty inside, I would never be genuine. If I continued to be concerned with what everyone thought about me, I would never be satisfied as I am.

I can admit when I am wrong, I am judgemental and insecure. My self-esteem takes it’s highs and lows seriously. When I am confident, nothing can tear me down. When I am insecure, it could take a slight breeze to push me over the edge.

I deal with depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies, and I’m showing signs of an addictive personality. Those are my big ones, the things I haven’t really been able to tackle yet because I’m stuck on the manipulation and insecurity and loneliness. I know they are intertwined. I know my problems don’t exist separately in different realms. They are one and the same. One larger picture, one big issue that I couldn’t take on right now.

So instead of dealing with it, I indulge. Another guy, another night, another unidentified pill, another glass, another emotionally charged writing session, another breakdown. What it comes down to is that I’m unsure what the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to help myself because I can’t say what’s wrong. I just know that I want to be understood, I want company, I want stimulation, I want to love and be loved.

My bed smells like him. His presence is still in this room, shadows have been cast into a timeless place that does not forget who has been here. His voice reverberates in the walls, it dances with the wind of the passing storm. You have been in this place. For me, love resounds.

There is beauty, even in this.

un·hinged

Journal, Love, New, Partner, Personal, Relationships, sex

Last night was single-handedly the most confusing experience of my life, (A+ for my exaggerations?)

I’m honestly more confused now than ever, and for once I’m not trying to analyze it.

We had sex. That’s all I’m gonna say on that matter. It happened. I’m kinda baffled about that. Kinda thought it would never actually happen… I haven’t told anyone. I mean I told my sister he was in my bed this morning and she probably connected the dots, but I didn’t explicitly say anything.

It is what it is and whatever that is, that’s just how it is. <<<< most confusing sentence ever, but if you really read it, things make sense.

I’m not mad about it, I’m not proud, I’m not disgusted, I’m just like- yeah. That happened.

Life is going to play itself out, and I’m tired of meddling. I feel like it’s too much and I am exhausted. No more drama or emotional rollercoasters, okay hun? Like can you be chill for 2 secs while the rest of the world catches up with the twenty million things you decided mattered Right NOw?

I woke up feeling fine, but as the day progressed I realized that I was incredibly hung over. I’ve been laying on the sofa sipping water with an ice pack on my head. I’m finally starting to feel okay, and it’s almost 7pm.

I start my new job tomorrow. Kind of excited, but also like kinda not just because I don’t want to have to work again.. Should really not complain because I’m only working short mid-shifts and not even full time. I’m working literally so little and I’m also going to have weekends off. I should Not Complain.

But hell, does anyone ever want to go to work? I’m not even that excited to meet my new coworkers or anything, and jesus christ this is why I don’t have any friends.

Ugh, I was so much more chill in San Francisco and have constantly been having mental breakdowns since coming back home. Wishing I could harness that same I don’t Give a Fuck energy that I had there. Because I didn’t. I knew no one, I had money, I was independent, no one could cut me down to their level. I was skinny, pretty, had good hair and skin, no one could touch me. Ya know?

But now I live with my mom again. I am real again. I am not a caricature of myself, I still have to come back down to Earth and deal with my problems.

I messaged T last night while I was laying in bed next to Leo… Weird turn of events after that- but I said something along the lines of “I love everything that hurts me” and that I couldn’t love the things that were really good for me because I was never treated right as a kid.

I learned to deal with pain but never learned to accept happiness.

Now I don’t know how to be happy. I want to. If you had asked me seven or eight months ago if I would be happy if I got to sleep in bed next to Leo and hold him all night, I would have hands down said yes. I would have gone on and on about how much I loved him and that it would be so satisfying to hold the person I love close to me.

And as nice as it was, as satisfying as it was- I could not enjoy it. All I could think about was how he said he thought I was too emotional, that he never felt that pheromone connection, that he cared about me and was sexually attracted to me but his friendliness was out of his need to care for things that weren’t okay.

And so I couldn’t lay there and be satisfied. I honestly felt so empty, because that is not love. I romanticized him because I thought he wanted the same things as me- because I thought maybe he was naive enough to believe in love like me. And after last night, ready for the dumbest part of all of this, I am still trying to find reasons to think it Could Be. After his whole spiel on how it isn’t.

But that’s just the first thoughts I have, my secondary ones, they know that’s not true. We had sex, followed by the wonderful rush of hormones that comes with it, and that’s all. Him inviting me to see a movie tonight was not an indication that anything changed. Him crying and apologizing for not getting to know me sooner is not an indication that anything changed. Nothing has changed.

He still doesn’t love me. His motivations are still the same, he probably just wants to lessen my pain, and god damn I was so close to falling for it.

I told him I loved him last night when I was drunk. I said that.

I need to calm down.

en·dear·ment

Beauty, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

My ego doesn’t want me to do this. It doesn’t want me to tell the truth. It would be perfectly content lying to you, saying all the things I wish were true. Like, saying that I don’t care.

But I’ve had feelings for you for over a year – I’m going to be transparent with you. Not because it’s easy, but because I value transparency. And because I want a sense of clarity here.

If I lied to you, I would just keep struggling. I could not grow.

I realize that being so honest puts me in a vulnerable place. However, being in a vulnerable spot isn’t going to stop me from being truthful.

I’m willing to cause myself discomfort in order to live by a set of values I’ve come to realize matter to me.

And I don’t want to be the kind of person who uses honesty as a thin veil to be a bitch.

There’s always a point in time where we find ourselves caught in regrettable action. Doing something that doesn’t coincide with who we are or what we believe. And in that moment we are faced with a decision. We must consider a few things; the way your actions made you feel, the way your actions made others feel, and whether those actions align with how you want to conduct yourself in the future.

The way I felt for you was very powerful. It was a pendulum, swaying from good to bad.

Due to lack of communication, I found myself really hurt. I never knew what you were thinking or how you felt. But I’m also not blind or dumb, I know we were never together. I know I tried to coerce you too much. I also know some of what has been said about me, and I’ve picked up from others that things have been said or insinuated, and that really hurts.

I’ve been an open book with you, and this is one of those moments where I have to decide how I want to act in the future.

Is this level of transparency productive? Is being a totally open book healthy?

Because I know that in this situation I came off as very desperate – but personally I know I’m not. I don’t need you, I’m not hopeless without you. I’m not under the impression that I’ll live a sad and helpless life without you.

I know I’m completely capable of being happy without a partner.

And I feel like my actions haven’t translated that for you.

All of the things I have done for you – the letters, bringing your favorite coffee for you, inviting you over… All of that was just supposed to show you that I cared about you. That you weren’t some object to me. But instead, things became convoluted.

When there wasn’t a clear answer for me, my insecurity came out. I felt toyed with. Perhaps you didn’t want to hurt me. Perhaps you wanted to keep me around for a rainy day.

My personal favorite explanation is that you really do feel something between us, however, I remind you so much of your dysfunctional ex-girlfriend that you cannot let me in. But you feel the same timeless thing I feel for you. You remember everything is as much vivid detail as I do, and you shared those parts of your life with me to value and treasure- not just because I was your friend, but because you wanted us to feel a connection before I left. I want to believe that you listen to the same song I do and think of me, that daisies remind you of me like they remind me of you, and there is a very simple and familiar calling within you that confirms things should be.

But that’s just when I allow myself to indulge.

It’s hard not to when the song that reminds me of you comes on as you drive past me on my walk.

de·ni·al

Journal, Love, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Dear T,
I am sorry.

It’s going on three weeks since we broke up. The first two, I didn’t eat. I still lose my appetite when I think of you.

I don’t think I can honestly say I loved you… I really wanted to, but how could I love someone who didn’t hold me close to them when we slept over? How could I love someone who put down my artistic efforts? Or kicked me out after sex and the mornings I woke up at your place?

It was so deafeningly obvious that you didn’t want me around, and I just wanted someone who could pretend to care. I was okay with our arrangement because it was easy to ignore how loveless it was when I thought about how alone I would be without you. That’s hard to admit, but saying it feels true.

I have been in love with Leo, I have been in love with him since we first made eye contact and I often thought of him when I was with you. And I lied to you. And to myself. And here on my blog.

That night when your head was on my chest, and you asked why my heart started beating fast, it wasn’t because I was thinking about how I might love you. 

And I know I told you that was why. Which is why I am sorry. I knowingly lied to you.

I got nervous because I realized I was still in love with Leo and wished it was him laying on my chest watching a movie.

But that was too fucked up, and I wanted to live in the fantasy of our picture-perfect relationship. I didn’t want to be that girl. I really wanted to prove I could be the perfect girlfriend. So I denied it to myself and I actively tried to hide that disgusting truth so I would feel less guilty.

Fuck. The week before you told me you loved me, I was writing about how I couldn’t love you because I would never love anyone like I loved Leo.

And when I went back home to SLO, I confirmed that for myself.

My heart probably skipped enough beats to kill me when I saw him behind that counter again. I felt more joy going to see Eighth Grade with him as a friend than any date we ever went on.

I’m sorry I lied to you.

But I’m not just making this up, hell I have phone call logs of every time I called him while we were together. How else can you explain that I haven’t even once since we broke up tried to call you? I’ve been drunk and sloppy and crying, and you know who I called? Leo. I have that article I wrote a week before you said you loved me, here it is. November 25th. And this is when I started lying. You can tell I don’t believe what I’m saying. You can tell I’m having to convince myself by how I write.

I think that what I used to believe was love is just an ideal

I think about all those little moments he and I shared together and I really don’t think they meant anything at all. Not in the grand scheme of things. They did to me, in my head, at the moment, and when I was holding him. But he was always a two-faced guy, wasn’t he? I don’t think I ever trusted him.

It explains why in the song I recently wrote, I say that “It’s not you, it’s everyone who leaves” – I knew deep down that I just really didn’t want to be alone. I sincerely hated the idea of being by myself. And it explains why I couldn’t get off for the last month we were together.

It also explains why I just walked away after we broke up. I didn’t try to talk until I got back up to my empty apartment and the loneliness began to set in. I couldn’t handle the idea of being alone in this city.

I was talking to my mom about Leo when I visited for Christmas, and she asked if I was being honest with you. She could tell that I was still in love.

She knew because I was laying on her bed, in tears, sobbing about him. I was crying about another guy, how obvious could I have been? Yet still, I denied it.

I really wanted to believe I loved you.

But really, you just made me comfortable. You were a great friend to me.

I’m sorry I am a liar.

ar·ti·cles

Humanist, Journal, Memories, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

In front of me, I have six objects.

A box of breakfast bars.
A jar of weed.
Two lighters.
A pair of socks.
A hoodie.
A book.

I have memories, longing.
Contempt, agitation.
I am moved, yet powerless.
Displeased, but compassionate.
Sentimental, fond,
and regretful.

Six objects.

Each one evoking emotion from me, each one a reminder for different parts of the relationship. When things were good, bad, and neutral.

I am filled with emotion, intuition, and compassion. But I am also in pain.

When I see the hoodie, I think about how he looked as a preteen. Always so embarrassed of it, but I thought it was adorable. I had a soft spot in my heart for his childhood, I cared about what he had experienced and was always interested in learning more.

When I look at the socks, I remember how easily he was distracted. How easily he forgot things. I found it endearing. He had forgotten my birthday, and even after my birthday, he forgot to give me my gift for a long time. I’m not sure if he was actually forgetful or if he just didn’t really care. Felt ambivalent toward me. I guess I’ll never really know the truth. He was always like that, though. I fell in love with it. The way he would stare off at something and just be thinking about the most random shit. It made my heart glow.

The breakfast bars. They remind me of the times just before the end. When he started his job and became distant. We went shopping together and I was trying so hard to get him to be present with me, but he just wasn’t. It made me wonder if there was someone he worked with that he liked. He brought me with him to where he worked, but when I visited him on his break, he seemed really distracted and like he didn’t want me to be there.

The jar of weed and lighters. This one is mixed for me. There is so much attached to it. The memories of the night before the party, when we argued and he told me he didn’t see a future together. He made me cry a lot, said he didn’t want to break up, but it was the beginning of the end to me. Things never felt the same after that. I didn’t trust that he loved me. The party itself, he got drunk and looked at other girls. But I met his friends, I tried to forget about the problems we were having. I stole the weed and lighters to have some fun and bond with him. Then Uber ride with the police officer, I had the weed in my purse and was worried as fuck. It was on my body, not his. I took so much risk there. When we got home, he was so drunk. His helplessness reminded me of my dad, and I was so disgusted. He hurt me a lot that weekend. It didn’t end that night either. The next day he took the weed from my purse, and to me, that was incredibly rude. I didn’t take it for the actual weed itself. Sure, that seemed like a fun thing at the time, but for me, it was really about making the memory of doing something stupid like that together. For me, it was about doing something risky together. Bonding. After our near-breakup the night before, I wanted us to feel close and connected. But I ended up putting myself in a dangerous situation with the cop- and then the next day T just took it. Put it in his closet like it was his, and his alone. As if I hadn’t been there with him at all and he had done it alone. To him, he was entitled to it. That was his jar of weed.

The really funny thing was that I didn’t care what was inside that jar at all. I just wanted a sentimental object, I just wanted to believe my relationship wasn’t already falling apart.

The only reason I have it now is that he wasn’t going to smoke when finding a new job. So I took it back.

And now I ache when I look at it.

 

re·li·a·bil·i·ty

Blame, Humanist, Journal, no trust, Partner, Personal, Relationships

I just got back from Sam’s house. Not my first boyfriend, just this guy from Tinder.

I finished the bottle of scotch earlier. So I don’t have that emotional crutch anymore, which kinda makes me mad. It was a reliable way to numb the pain for a bit. Helped to feel better, even if just for a short time.

It also made me feel a lot worse, though. I feel like it worsened my suicidal thoughts and actions. I hadn’t tried to do anything in months, and yet I found myself with my feet out the window, sitting on the sill, tempting fate and teasing my will to live more than once.

I’m depressed. I was depressed before the breakup. Things just got a lot worse after. I was using T as a crutch before the alcohol. When I didn’t have him anymore, I turned to substances.

I had a problem before I was drinking, and I had a problem before the breakup. I just don’t know what that problem is. Mental health?

My attachment style to people is unhealthy. Tonight Sam was telling me that he felt like I was completely detached from him and the moment. He knows I’m moving but we also were sort of doing this thing where we cuddled and were being cute together. Like he kissed my forehead and shit. He wanted it to be more emotional, and so did I- but I am not ready for emotional sex again. I am not ready for romantic interactions again. I’m still counting the days since the breakup. I am not ready. My heart still aches, I’m still getting randomly sad and angry, and I have no clue when that will be over. At least I’m eating again. And I can do my makeup without crying it off. But I am sad.

I didn’t just lose a boyfriend when T and I broke up. I lost someone I felt was my best friend. I lost that sense of security that comes with being in a relationship.

But I have to remember how many times I considered breaking up with him myself. How many times I tied my shoes, about to leave and annoyed at how insensitive T was, thinking we should break up. It happened a lot. Or when he completely misunderstood me and my life, which happened quite a lot. He never got me, he never understood who I was. My background, my struggles, all of it was downplayed at some point. Even my achievements up here were downplayed, and I knew it. He downplayed my apartment, my school, my barista certification. He was not supportive of those things. He actively put me down for some of it, even though he denied doing it. I don’t think he was aware of the shit things he said, but I noticed it all.

It doesn’t go unnoticed when your hard work is made fun of. Or when I was finally on my own, in my own apartment and supporting myself, and someone tells me it’s a shit place. Of course, I remembered that.

Things were not all sunshine and rainbows when we dated. It just gave me a sense of security in what I was doing with my life.

I need to find that security within myself and not with a guy. Especially not with a guy who doesn’t keep me in the loop about major life decisions.

I should have realized earlier on that he had no intention of keeping me around, he acted like those decisions didn’t involve me at all. He knew. I mean, I did realize it. I chose to ignore it. I chose to trust him. He violated that trust. So what, does that just mean I’m currently fucked? My trust was already violated by Riley. Now add T to the list.

And Sam wondered why I had trust issues. Why I couldn’t stay the night at his place. I don’t trust anyone anymore. I don’t even trust myself.

ob·sess

Her, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, New, Partner, Personal, Relationships

As much as I valued my last relationship, it’s good that things ended. I never questioned going above and beyond for him and I should have. I should have cared about myself more and had higher standards for the way he treated me.

When I say that, he never treated me bad. He never physically hurt me or emotionally manipulated me. Sometimes he was just more selfish in the relationship than me. He would tell me that I couldn’t stay over and he would tell me that I had to leave a lot. He would kick me out in the morning after staying over just so that he could have his day to himself. That was incredibly rude and always hurt me, and I could have communicated that I wasn’t cool with that. I don’t have to tolerate bullshit like that.

The next time I am someone’s girlfriend, they better want me around all the goddamn time. I understand wanting personal space, but if you don’t want me to be a part of your personal space then I don’t wanna be your girlfriend. I need someone who is so obsessed with me that they can never get enough.

I appreciate everything that happened with T, I only look back at that relationship with love and respect. However, I will learn from the mistakes and I will grow. Just like every other relationship I have had. And the next one that comes will be stronger and more fulfilling than the last- as has happened before.

So next time I am going to be cared about to the point where I am practically worshiped and I’m not going to put up with feeling like I am needy for loving my partner.

okay, rant over. I deserve love.

 

1·7·2019

Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Relationships

Dear T,
I’m glad you came over to talk tonight. It gave me the closure I needed and reminded me that you aren’t some heartless bastard. You just needed time to process your thoughts before we could talk about it together.

Thank you. Not just for tonight, but for being there for me. Thank you for being the person who I spent my time in San Francisco with. I literally couldn’t have picked someone better. You told me about that tree in Golden Gate Park that has owls. You told me about how you would go to Ripley’s museum on the Wharf as a kid. You introduced me to a part of San Francisco that I didn’t even know existed, to the opulent neighborhoods and the rich kids who don’t know anything else. I listened to every word.

Every moment we spent together meant the world to me. I’ll miss laying on your couch, smiling as you walk through the door. I’ll miss laying awake at night, unable to fall asleep because your bed was uncomfortable, but having you there and being satisfied. I’ll miss going to get coffee together after staying at your house and eating breakfast with your family and watching The Twilight Zone together.

I’ll miss when you picked me up from work. I’ll miss going to that party together. I’ll miss watching the Sister Brothers together in that theatre. I’ll miss going to the mall together and holding hands, taking walks on the beach. Getting ice cream at the place with the spinning wheel. The pizza place with the mounted car that had rolling wheels (still think that gluten-free pizza was bad, though.)

I’m going to miss a lot of things, but mostly I’ll miss waking up to you in the morning. Your messy morning face and hair. I’ll miss going to bed next to you at night. Holding each other in a comfortable silence.

I really do hope that we cross paths again. I hope that wasn’t just some breakup nonsense. No matter where you go, what you do, or where you end up – I am here supporting you.

I love you TLE, that will never change.