I am distraught because of how what I remember intersects with what I know to be true and what I know to be right.
I remember the first time I whispered "I love you" before I meant to but not before I felt it. And I was perched on top of him looking down at his face and feeling how warm his skin was beneath my finger tips and listening to his heavy breathing - like every molecule that entered his lungs was praising God for getting the chance to touch him. And even when he said nothing back I felt safe.
He always made me feel safe from the first night I kissed him when I was shaking like a leaf because I had no clue what I was doing and I liked someone else. My heart was still reeling from the first person I had ever loved and I was a big old mess. A mess getting smaller and smaller. I didn't need help being messy. I didn't need help with anything except not being alone for one night. And I knew it was all bullshit because of how many times he told me I was beautiful and how many times he kept asking me why, pretending like he wanted to get to know me.
Men are destructive but not in the same way a fire is because a fire will never let you think you are safe. A fire is blatant and honest and once you see it you know that it's intention is to burn. It wants to destroy. Men are more like rainstorms - comforting, peaceful until things get too heavy and flood waters begin to rise. Before you can get out safely you will drown and in your last moments of drowning you will still feel like you are safe.
Despite my belief that it wasn't worth it and my disinterest in being in love, I feel as if it were inevitable. We tried being "just friends" a few times but it always went back to sex. As much as (now) you would like to pretend that I was the one who was interested in you I know you were interested in me too because some things are just too difficult to fake and falling in love has to be real.
I remember before Christmas break I worried about us being apart from each other because it was too soon and I had only just gotten to know you. But the night before I left we spent the whole night together. I remember the candle light moving waves of color across your face, and occasionally illuminating how light your eyes were. I remember your chest beneath my head as piles of my hair invaded your faces orifices and your hands were wrapped around me, protecting me and keeping me warm. I remember the feeling of warm water flowing down my skin and your hands massaging shampoo in my hair with almost too much caution. I remember how you smelled like Old Spice right out of the shower and the way your hair felt soft and fuzzy when you were drying off.
It feels like my memories are almost made up. Do you remember anything about me or why you love(d) me? Is anything about me interesting or appealing except for the fact that I do the right things? Am I hollow? Am I empty? What am I worth to anyone?
A placeholder until someone better comes along. Someone who will never cry or get angry. Or someone pretty with lighter skin and hair down to their back that never gets in your mouth. Maybe someone with a little mermaid voice who never tells you to stop singing and won't want to hang out with you all weekend long and ruin whatever plans you may have had.
It's hard to stop my mind from eating away at me. I feel as if I am constantly fighting.
I am saying to myself "HE DOESN'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE" over and over almost taunting myself with it. He's still my phone background - a picture of us from a trip to NYC. The same picture is on my computer, but maybe that's denial more than anything else. I went through the hundreds of pictures I took of him in my iPhoto. I saw what being in love was like and I still see it. I'm holding pieces of my heart together waiting for him to say the right words or at least realize that he wants to say them.
How can he forget. How can he not love me. We were what seemed like the perfect couple and although things moved quickly I thought that's ecause that was what happened when thugs were right. It's what happens when you meet someone who you are inexplicably drawn to. I believe in love and I believe in happy endings and I don't want that to change. I'm powerless - another one of my biggest fears that therapy has done nothing for. Maybe my mistake is always pursuing people who love God more than they could love a human being.
Obsessed with the intangible. Escapists. Damaged men who keep running away from people who love them in hopes of finding something/someone more esoteric. I wonder if they will ever give up the hunt for what is not real in favor of something present and possible.
