I called you last night. The almost silent ring lightened into nothing. You didn't answer. You never answer, and you never call back. You don't call. I always thought there was something poetic about waiting. Sitting for hours on end, contemplating all the various words that I'll never hear.
I've visualized the scene - you in front of me, pouring your heart out; me before you, waiting to fall for every line. When I lie awake at night, I contemplate and visual words, phrases, and reasons. Sometimes I wonder what exactly it is I'm waiting for. Other times, I don't have to wonder. It's blatant and true. We all know what I'm waiting for. What we fail to ask ourselves is why.
Until tonight. Allowing my heart to extract all feeling, only to be replaced by logic, I asked myself: why wait? It's like the commercials on television that promote safe sex, telling you to save yourself for marriage. Where's the fun in that? The longer you wait, the more chance you get to learn what you'll be getting when the time finally comes. You have the chance to plan everything accordingly, to make sure there are no mistakes. If you know the results ahead of time, then what's the point in going through with it? What's the point in waiting? I know this is a dead end relationship. I cannot wait, waiting would be wasting time.
There will come a time, we will meet at the fork in the road. Like always, you'll warn me of mistakes, you'll tell me I'm naïve. At the fork, you'll say the spoon is slippery and the knife is sharp. You'll remind me that life is a fork in the road: you go one way or the other. It's the only safe and sensible path, a clear yes or no.
There can be no mistakes. This way, you'll never get hurt. But what happens to those around you? What if everyone else opts out and wanders down a different path? These paths will collide unknowingly. You won't be able to predict it, because you don't allow yourself to see choices. For someone who has lived a life so cut and dry, the vulnerability will be overwhelming.
Who will you run to then? You've isolated yourself and abandoned everything you once knew. Will there be anyone waiting for you? I used to hope you'd change your mind. Now, I pray you stay the same. I will not be waiting, and without me, you will break. You will break, just like you broke me.
Ironic, how you pushed me away because I needed you. Now, the tables have turned. The boy who once stood waiting has resigned. When you run down a path only to find a dead end, what's there left to do but climb the walls in hopes of getting over? Run back to where you started, trusting that another path will appear?
Suddenly, I've been snapped back into reality. The road beneath me is spinning, black and icy. I remember the words you said the night it all changed, the night you said it was over. You asked me if I'd wait for you, and I promised that I would. But what do you do when your life becomes a dead end? I slam on the brakes and all I see is red. Our paths have collided.
You chose the fork, and I chose the knife. Who's life is cut and dry now, Brian?
I've visualized the scene - you in front of me, pouring your heart out; me before you, waiting to fall for every line. When I lie awake at night, I contemplate and visual words, phrases, and reasons. Sometimes I wonder what exactly it is I'm waiting for. Other times, I don't have to wonder. It's blatant and true. We all know what I'm waiting for. What we fail to ask ourselves is why.
Until tonight. Allowing my heart to extract all feeling, only to be replaced by logic, I asked myself: why wait? It's like the commercials on television that promote safe sex, telling you to save yourself for marriage. Where's the fun in that? The longer you wait, the more chance you get to learn what you'll be getting when the time finally comes. You have the chance to plan everything accordingly, to make sure there are no mistakes. If you know the results ahead of time, then what's the point in going through with it? What's the point in waiting? I know this is a dead end relationship. I cannot wait, waiting would be wasting time.
There will come a time, we will meet at the fork in the road. Like always, you'll warn me of mistakes, you'll tell me I'm naïve. At the fork, you'll say the spoon is slippery and the knife is sharp. You'll remind me that life is a fork in the road: you go one way or the other. It's the only safe and sensible path, a clear yes or no.
There can be no mistakes. This way, you'll never get hurt. But what happens to those around you? What if everyone else opts out and wanders down a different path? These paths will collide unknowingly. You won't be able to predict it, because you don't allow yourself to see choices. For someone who has lived a life so cut and dry, the vulnerability will be overwhelming.
Who will you run to then? You've isolated yourself and abandoned everything you once knew. Will there be anyone waiting for you? I used to hope you'd change your mind. Now, I pray you stay the same. I will not be waiting, and without me, you will break. You will break, just like you broke me.
Ironic, how you pushed me away because I needed you. Now, the tables have turned. The boy who once stood waiting has resigned. When you run down a path only to find a dead end, what's there left to do but climb the walls in hopes of getting over? Run back to where you started, trusting that another path will appear?
Suddenly, I've been snapped back into reality. The road beneath me is spinning, black and icy. I remember the words you said the night it all changed, the night you said it was over. You asked me if I'd wait for you, and I promised that I would. But what do you do when your life becomes a dead end? I slam on the brakes and all I see is red. Our paths have collided.
You chose the fork, and I chose the knife. Who's life is cut and dry now, Brian?