I'm switching everything over to my email at drw***@gmail.com, which means I will be starting up a new blogspot.
I might post some unpublished drafts that I have on here (i have over 100... lol. Most will probably not be published, though...), or I might not. In any case, more regular posting will probably occur here from now on.
Friday, May 17, 2013
please don't let it be him.
"David? What are you doing here?"
I fumble out an unconvincing answer, and he invites me inside.
"What does that smell remind you of?"
It reminds me of you. Of freshman year. Of anticipation and hope for a new friendship. But I don't say that. I can't bring myself to.
"Do you have painful memories of Rice? ...What's the most painful?"
"Not being cared for in the way that I wanted to be cared for." Unintentionally, my words are thinly veiled and I wonder if he connects the dots.
We move on to a different topic. I feel somewhat relieved.
---
We hug and his tears wet my shoulder. My fingers trace their outlines after he steps away into conversation with someone else. He gets +points from me for this.
I don't cry back. I wonder if that's because I'm drained from human interaction, or if I don't allow myself to feel, or if I just don't care enough because it doesn't matter that much, does it?
---
When did I become the jokester? I didn't know my default is to want to lighten the mood. I always thought my default was introspective Debbie Downer... ok, it probably still kind of is.
maybe I'm learning the balance between the two. Or maybe it's because I don't want to go deep anymore. This year... man, this year. I don't think I've felt more closed off in any other year.
"David? What are you doing here?"
I fumble out an unconvincing answer, and he invites me inside.
"What does that smell remind you of?"
It reminds me of you. Of freshman year. Of anticipation and hope for a new friendship. But I don't say that. I can't bring myself to.
"Do you have painful memories of Rice? ...What's the most painful?"
"Not being cared for in the way that I wanted to be cared for." Unintentionally, my words are thinly veiled and I wonder if he connects the dots.
We move on to a different topic. I feel somewhat relieved.
---
We hug and his tears wet my shoulder. My fingers trace their outlines after he steps away into conversation with someone else. He gets +points from me for this.
I don't cry back. I wonder if that's because I'm drained from human interaction, or if I don't allow myself to feel, or if I just don't care enough because it doesn't matter that much, does it?
---
When did I become the jokester? I didn't know my default is to want to lighten the mood. I always thought my default was introspective Debbie Downer... ok, it probably still kind of is.
maybe I'm learning the balance between the two. Or maybe it's because I don't want to go deep anymore. This year... man, this year. I don't think I've felt more closed off in any other year.
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