I love it when you say my name.
Part of me wants to just drop to my knees in front of you instead of saying hello. Part of me wants to climb into your lap, wrap my legs around you and nuzzle my face into your neck until everything makes sense again.
It’s taking me every bit of willpower I can muster to refrain from doing either.
I’m perpetually about ten seconds away from saying something that I’m gonna regret.
All these years and I’ve never once been in a relationship, yet somehow I still feel as if I’m being broken up with on a monthly basis.
I’m just so tired, tired, tired.
No matter how lovely someone is,
no matter how attracted to them I am,
no matter how wonderful they appear on paper,
If they can’t get it together and be real with me;
then they’re just not for me.
Despite the circumstances, I’m just so happy that you’re still in my life.
I’ve yet to be reduced to scratches and moans,
pet names and bruises,
lost stockings and lost hope,
slammed doors and goodbye kisses,
indecision and a lack of self control.
But I find it sort of funny how
lying next to you in bed,
I could feel myself quietly suffocating.
But sprawled out in his backseat,
windows steamed in two hours of body heat,
choking on the scent of all we had done,
I could exhale just fine.
In my search for something real, it seems I’ve discounted the most authentic thing in my life.
You continue to leave me second guessing myself every time your name pops up on the screen of my cell phone. Grasping for some shred of honesty and trying to aggressively squeeze a square into a circle when I know it’s just never going to fit.
He has never been anything less than brutally honest with me and exactly what he does and does not want from me, and spends his time smothering me with compliments when he isn’t effortlessly making me laugh by being nothing short of entirely himself.
You make my confidence weak. He makes my knees weak.
And my thighs, and my calves, and my breathing..
I have such a weakness for redheads.
The thing is,
I could have been fantastic for you.
But you didn’t want me,
So I’ll just have to go be fantastic for someone else.
How is it that the girl who has always made it a point to keep her heart wrapped in plastic, encased in glass, circled in barbed wire, is the same girl who always manages to get hurt? I just want to cling to something, to anything, that’s real. Since when am I the only person walking the earth who actually knows who they are and what they want? I know for a fact that I’m not. So what fucking gives? I know my worth and I don’t deserve to be confused by confusion. I don’t deserve to be given a little, and then have it ripped away from me. I just want the tightness in my chest to dissipate.
It is a scientific certainty that any time I like someone, would love to be with someone, want to spend time with someone, can’t stop thinking about someone.. it will blow up in my face.
The guys who I hesitate on, can’t imagine getting along with, are disinterested in and have to be convinced to take a chance on… are the ones that last.
How am I supposed to trick my brain to swap the two?