All it took was to lay my eyes on you, and all the 2008
memories sailed back. That brief five seconds I held you in my arms felt like infinity
and right there I knew I’d be seeing you again, very soon. That knowledge
became a reality that night and the day after until I realised, just like it once
dawned on me seven years ago, we’re going nowhere slowly.
What is different this time around is the fact that I am
wide awake and for once it looks as if you’re wounded by my maturity and
disappointed that I found it easy to leave and never called; so much so you saw
it fitting to antagonize my unfamiliar demeanors.
I’ll admit, I missed you. In fact, I want to be with you
right this minute. Perhaps this is possible in my thirties – not in my twenties.
Maybe you really are the love of my life and that your lingering taste in my mouth
will be something I invigorate for as long as I find you sexually attractive. It’s
also possible that you and I will merely live in sin and will continue to
regularly make romantic and sexual overtures towards each other, and
subsequently live to be loathed by many.
Drafting this post, it feels like I’m 22 years old all over
again. God knows; I see you, I just want to fuck your brains out. The fact that
your memories of me are simply the best and that in your mind I’m an angel is
not helping. The fact that we both know that, every now and then, I romanticize
the idea of having you stimulate my anterior rectal wall is not helping. The
fact that there the question of whether or not I’d enjoy this remains a mystery
is not helping.
One minute, I see us working. But knowing that you have no
intention to even try and understand the concept of conciliation in our
situation dislocates all prospects. Honestly, I despise this about you – which makes
me wonder why I still hold you in such high regard to the extent that your soft
sneeze would tear the impenetrable membrane that covers my heart.
Other times, the reality is inevitable and of course excruciating
just by observing my friends’ facial expressions whenever your name comes up then
I’m subjected to “are you okay?” and “say one word, and I’ll make him disappear”
or “you don’t have to see him” sentiments. This is all because they care. Yet,
here we are; entertaining the idea of making it work knowing very well this
would never work. My poor friends…
Man, I love you. But this has to stop.
You have to work with me and help me let you go. Please help
me stop hoping that one day you and I will run away together. Help me stop
thinking that one day you will change for me or that I’d ever accept your irrational
and selfish justifications.
There is a high possibility I’m lying to myself and that I’m
fighting the inescapable; you and I truly belong together. Perhaps, I have to
go back and experience once more what used to be in order to swiftly move on to
the next chapter. A big part of me wishes that I’d pretend to make it work and
have you hurt me in every sense of the word. Maybe then, it would be easy
letting you go. But I also know for sure that doing this will damage my career;
the one thing that seems to bring me constant joy. So, no.
I don’t know what to do.
Happy read!
