Thursday, August 29, 2013

These Three Words

I love hearing I love you as much as the next person. I admit that I'm not the best at offering the sentiment. I'm not entirely sure why, nor am I particularly interested in the underlying psychology, but I love you is often awkward in my mouth; the edges sharp and dangerous, its texture rough and metallic tasting. It feels foreign though I make myself say it anyway.

But those 3 words aren't the ones that do me in. For me, "I miss you" is my undoing. There is something about the longing in it, the wanting and craving laced in every word. The need to replace something missing. In the French literally meaning, "You are missing from me."

It could be perhaps because I find love to be a state of being. When you love someone, when you are in love, there is a beautiful type of being that is inherent in the feeling. But to miss someone feels more like an action, with someone valuable being missing from you demanding urgent and immediate action to right this absence that feels so wrong. And I, ruled entirely by big, bold, sentiment, easily get swept away in urgent action.

Though I find comfort in the peaceful lull of being in love, I am not someone who doesn't need to be wanted, craved when I am missing- wholly, passionately. Because otherwise, what's the point?

But I am undone by, "I miss you."

Please do not leave me undone.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Urban Legend

There is a legend. It goes like this;

There was once a girl who looked a lot like me who met a boy she thought was handsome. After a couple conversations, she realized that this boy, while handsome, wouldn’t be able to hold her interest in a relationship kinda way. But she still liked him. He was funny. They shared a passion for brown liquor and football. And she was still very interested in seeing him outside of a suit (and everything else).

“So, why don’t you just sleep with him and nothing else?” asked a friend she posed her quandary to, who had an accent remarkably like my friend QQ.
“Well, I’ve never done that before,” the girl said, not even sure she could pull it off. “How does that work?”
“However the fuck you want it to.”

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

The Party's Over, My Friend

My head has already turned on the lights. It has closed the top on the piano and replaced the party soundtrack with silence. It is swishing a push broom through the streamers and glitter and confetti that litter the floor. It is washing the champagne flutes and wine glasses, tossing the red solo cups. It’s moving the tables and chairs back to their rightful places, and straightening the pictures knocked askew. It’s wiping up the mysterious substances that spilled and tucking away the odds and ends brought out only for the occasion. It is throwing away the trash left behind. It’s closing and locking the doors, pulling the drapes shut on the windows. It’s cleaning and scrubbing the places left stained and it’s almost ready to move on to the next party.

It’s just waiting for my heart to catch up. 

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Make a Should Girl Go Bad

I know what I should be doing.

I should be relaxing. Resting. I should be saving more money. I should be drinking less and doing more hot yoga. I should be taking my makeup off before I get in the bed. I should certainly have a bedtime of some sort. I should pick the safe guy, and I should sit the fuck down and be with him. I should be looking for a place that is safe and financially responsible. I should be planning to buy a house. I should be looking into going back to school to get my Masters and I should be trying to get my life on some semblance of a routine.

But I just really don’t fucking want to.