Remember the way it felt when you were the tender age of 13 and everything made sense?
You could order a peanutbutter and jelly at a restaurant without a questionable glance. You were consistently tucked into your bed at 9:00pm on the dot. Sleepovers were all about your crush and used as a time to recall that your crush may or may not have smiled at you; it was so easy to believe so passionately that you were nearly delusional- you wanted it so bad that you convinced yourself it was the truth.
You could not sort fact from fiction.
(but that was just fine by you).
Now, well, you order off an adult menu. Forget the crayons and kids menu, you order booze with a side of angst. You're out past 9:00pm doing things that your peers want to do. You're lighting up every Friday and Saturday night, and in the summer you are partying so hard with plastic fantastic that you don't remember who you spent the night with or why you're waking up in a stranger's unmade bed. Your brain is so clouded with confusion and hangovers that you forget all about the reason why you're running from yourself.
You used to have so much faith; the kind of faith that you felt surge throughout every inch of your body when you laid in your secure bed- you were so confident that tomorrow would be The Day.
The Day that things would take a U-turn for you for the better and brighter side of things. (the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, isn't it?) You had wished to be old enough to have responsibility to claim like abandoned luggage- you wanted to grow up so badly. (wish you could take it back now, huh?)
Life made so much more sense with a glass of milk and double stuffed Oreos than a bottle of tequila with drunken handsy boys who played mind games.
One night you stood at the end of a dock, facing the direction of the wind and it hit you. He was gone, gone, gone- and he was not coming back. The minute you let go, you lost every right to a role in his life.
"I am so comfortable around you; I can be myself and I love you for that."
"Now and forever."
You ran from all any sort of commitment (too afraid and cowardly to work at this), you ran from outstretched arms(the very same ones that held your weepy self), you ran from three words that taste bitter on your tongue (but they once felt so light and real), you ran from an opportunity to have more than just best friends of Mary Jane and Jack Daniels. You ran away from the 'L' word and now look at yourself. He has moved on, miles and miles away from you. Off on some 'venture. It is too late.
He owes you nothing. (you owe him your heart).
It is too, too late now. He is gone, gone, gone.
And you are here, here, here.
(stuck, stuck, stuck)
living in nostalgia and trying to find faith in burnt out supernovas.
6/27/13