Is there a word for the excitement you have when you bring home a bag of clothes you just bought and can’t wait to try them on?
(I hate fitting rooms and refuse to use them)
Is there a word for the utter desolation and defeat you feel when none of them fit properly and I just made myself feel so disgusting?
(I should probably use the fitting rooms)
This is me, crying in bed, feeling sorry for myself. Hopefully tomorrow isn’t as damning.
There was that time before I really knew you where I felt an uneasiness in our interactions. I’m awkward and I can never anticipate what any person is thinking when they talk with me, and you always made me feel so inferior in every way. It wasn’t always your fault, sometimes I have the world’s lowest self confidence. Either way, I couldn’t tell if you liked me or were mocking me and I couldn’t even stand still without looking out of place.
Standing in the library stacks that day, looking for a book on something-or-other I could feel you near me. Your presence had a weight to it, as if you were making my eyes water or leaving a tightness around my throat. I looked behind me but you weren’t there.
I couldn’t say I was scared of you, but I think I was scared of the way I would be if you gave me the attention I really wanted. You were so sure of yourself and I was so much the opposite that I knew you would consume me. I would do anything for you. I practically did.
All it took was the feeling of an almost touch. Your hand resting on the shelf just past my head and an inch or two from mine. My voice caught in my lungs and tangled up with my breath. I stared at you while you asked me what I was looking for.
I said something stupid that didn’t make sense and the look you gave me made me visibly shiver. Those stone blue eyes and lips like cherries weakened me. I was just a lovesick girl with a crush that couldn’t be quenched but for a long swim against your kiss. But I felt like I was drowning.
Can other people see when your eyes dart too and fro? I tried to steady them and felt the heaviness of my silence.
“You know people get caught making out back here, right?” Why would you tell me that? It was so forward. Was it a joke? Was it your Uber confidence exerting it’s will on me?
“I uh, haven’t kissed anyone in a while. Definitely not the library.” Awkward. So-fucking-awkward.
“Oh, no. I wasn’t accusing you of being one of them,” you laughed, “just commenting on what a risqué place the library could be. Could you be quiet enough to, well, see how far you could go.”
I turned to look at you, pulling my hands back and clutching my arms to my chest. My body recoiling while my muscles tense.
“I, yeah no. I didn’t mean it like that just-, I don’t know why I said that.”
I wanted to kiss him and let him do whatever he wanted to me. Try to make me scream while I tried to hold it in. Pushing me so far he knows I’m going to break and he shoves his fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet. Moaning and sucking at his skin while he lays claim to my lust.
“That’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw you here and wanted to…say.”
“Say what, that thing about kissing?” I cocked my head and pursed my lips tight. My fingers rolled my shirts fabric between them nervously.
You laughed again, “yeah uh, I guess. Who knows why we say some things, huh?”
“We usually say things because we want them,” I muttered and kept my eyes just out of the center of yours. You looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Is that what you think?” You smirked.
I half nodded and half shrugged.
“Well,” you moved your hand from the shelf to your side, then hovering around my waist as you slid past me, “you may be right. Maybe we’ll find out someday.”
With that you moved past me, your hand on my elbow sending a jolt through me that I’m sure you felt. I wanted to reach out and grab you. I wanted to rip at your shirt and run my fingers through your hair. I felt my entire body contracting inward ready to violently release.
As you moved down the stacks I called out, but it was more a sound than a word. You stopped and turned to look at me, staring.
“Can we, um, do this again? Sometime?”
You nodded, “uh huh. Let’s leave it to chance. I do better with spontaneity, and you’re cute when you’re nervous.”
You left me with those words. It was the start of whatever it was that we were. When I finally exhaled I couldn’t stop my chest from heaving, as if I had run a marathon. I was shaking and needed to sit down. I almost felt like crying and the only thing I could think about was when I could be near him again.
I’m hiding inside the minutes of your day.
In your head.
Can you feel my breath?
I’m lingering in your closet when you’ve gone
Boxers and buttoned-downs
I miss the feel of your clothes in my fist
I’m tip-toeing through your kitchen
No shoes
No pants, no panties, just one of your shirts
I’ve defiled the sheets that you sleep in
Stained their virgin thread count
Will you be mad?
I’ve sprawled along your couch
I’ve sat bare in your kitchen
I’ve laid lustful in your bed
I’ve left my scent in every room of your home
Now tell me, am I on the tip of your tongue?
Your lips are still stinging in mine. I feel where your teeth grazed and bit at my wild kisses. The heavy breathed moans that crept out slowly kept me entranced.
And your tongue? My *god* your tongue.
That tongue was rough but moved so smoothly I felt as if I were swimming. I wanted to lick the inside of your mouth while holding you down with my weight on your chest. I’m not sure it would have worked, physically, but mentally I was devouring you.
Every time you kiss me, do it just like that. With your hand on the back of my neck holding me tight to you while your other travels down my sides and pulls my hips to yours. You made me feel safe and wanted, no desired. I finally wanted something again and the flush of my skin radiated out of me.
I need more. I’m going to succumb to your addiction. I want more. I’m going to overdose and leave this world with a smile.
Let’s pretend I’m not me and you’re not you and we’ll meet somewhere in the world. Do you think we’ll have the same connection? Do you think it’ll be just as good? What if we started over with a blink away of all of our past, would we end up where we are right now or somewhere different all together?
Let’s pretend. Now tell me something you’d like to do.
I love you like tomorrow loves today, with wistful memories of what was under sunlight and smiling skies.
It’s gone and I can’t get it back. Why? Because tomorrow never comes, its always with yesterday and today is the only day that exists.
I might be rambling but I can’t stop. My words need to find a plain to spread out on and build a home.
Straw, because I liked that pig the most.
The words I’m sorry are never good enough. They don’t provide any consolation or comfort. All they do is tell you something is wrong and there isn’t anything you can do about it. I’m sorry for my I’m sorry. You probably didn’t deserve this and I most definitely didn’t deserve you. That’s the only way things go for me though.
You kissed me and made me believe in love. My eyes shined brighter and my steps felt like they were on water. Magical.
But there was always the other side. They felt like they were on water because I thought I could sink to the bottom of a lake at any moment. I was standing in the middle and sinking slowly. I needed you more and nobody can provide the amount of need that I want. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I drank so much that night and told you my deepest thoughts. That I never wanted to be a mother because I think families are all lies. That I think everyone, in their heart, is only out to serve themselves. That I think you are probably better off with one of my friends than me and that I’ll end up hating you after we break up. I’m sorry.
Now you have to stop looking at me with those eyes that burn because of how much hurt you hold in them. I was never any good and I told you in that first kiss. First kisses aren’t supposed to be that intense and I was a supernova ready to burst.
Please just let me be the story you tell your future wife about when she asks about the crazy regrets you loved before.
Just Like Lana 