I haven’t written in awhile. I think I might start most blogs out with that these days. Redundancy. It works for me.
It’s a Friday night…I was out and then realized that nothing would feel better than sitting on the floor of my kitchen writing it all out.
Hi.
It smells like something awkward in here. Something that is old and needs to go away. Most likely the trash but that would be too easy. I prefer to think its something more abstract like the memory of something.
I woke up to a text this morning. “I’m still in love with you.” Humph. Love. A complex word. I believe that we love moments and people that fill those moments and when faced with the reality of realizing that someone is really just human your love wanes. It’s a flu. A viral 24-hour thing. We love the ones we are not with. We place the treacherous moments with them on a pedestal. Only to be knocked off when we see their face and recognize that the fantasy is in fact, a bold reality.
Because, the thing is…if you are really, honestly, and truly in love with someone, and if it’s supposed to be, then it just is. If it isn’t – it isn’t supposed to be and words on paper or computer screens mean little more than shit without actions behind them.
Yah, I’m holding out for the white horse riding guy who makes me feel, in the very least that I’m worthy of a semblance of effort. Call me crazy but I want that sort of feeling that I am ‘it’. Bullocks. I get that. But I can’t help it. And yet, I am so good with where I am at. Set the bar low and it’s hard to disappoint or get emotional about much. In fact, you expect most people will be exactly how you expect them to be. It’s rare that they let you down. So you do your best to be your own lover and champion.
I am not perfect. I am scarred and scaled and am a complete work in progress, but as Forest Gump said, “I know what love is.” I guess I just need the boy who is the peas to my carrots and fearlessly decides that it’s just worth it.
Blah.
