I looked up today to realize it has been over a month since the night we kissed.
I have been waiting. I have been quiet, withdrawn, uncertain. I have been pining for over a month.
You were my wonder. You were my wonder in so many ways.
I spent my first night last night, my first night out without real thoughts of you, focusing on the actual people I was with and the things we were doing.
I’m on my way out, I guess. I think.
I’d forgotten how hard it is to see the one you love casually. In classes, in the hallway. What I deemed a school girl crush from the start has regressed to the point where it really is one in both circumstance and mood.
I had forgotten the dark quiet places of the heart, where we go from time to time to recover and be reborn.
I’ve found ways to paint your face without even remembering what you look like.
My housemate grimaced at me the other day when I was still talking about you. “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just that ...“ She avoided my glance as she said it “... I don’t think he’s interested. So he sucks.”
I’d never contemplated that possibility. You were so genuine. I still can’t believe you lied. I still can’t be mad, because no matter how many times I do try to tell myself that you lied I don’t believe it. But it’d almost be easier at this point.
It’s much much much easier to pretend all this pining is for nothing, because it gives my life back to me instead of letting me wait the two weeks more until goodbye.
I’m not a mess, I tell myself sometimes.
I’m just starting to live again.
If I wrote you
you would know me
you would not write me again. *