Maybe I'll Regret This. Maybe I Won't.

I finished reading my book this morning. About 8 A.M. I always hate finishing books because it's the end. Even if a sequel exists, the tale that has consumed me for the entire night has winded it self down, out of existance. I always cling to the last ten pages or so, praying that it's not really the end... that I can magically start over without knowing and continue to read it for ever, re-experiencing the lust, love, fear, trust, hope...


I'm starting to think I'm on my last ten pages, baby.


You're coming at me in phases. You're completely devoted, I see you, we share glorious moment after glorious moment together, we part with a tearful goodbye and sorrow-filled promises to see eachother again, and then you get suddenly and unexplainably distant.
I'm clinging to every word you whispered in the dark, every touch you went out of your way to produce, wanting so bad to re-experience the lust, love, fear, trust hope...

But I can only re-read.

And when I re-read memories, like books, I already know the ending. I already know that you fall back into your routine. The one where I hardly exist. Where you're not cold, but you don't tell me you love me. You don't tell me you miss me. You don't fall for me all over again. I'm just remembering when you did.

When we talk, it's casual. "How was your day?" "What are your plans?" "What's up?"

I want to tell you so badly how I feel. I'm so lost right now. I don't know what you would say or how you would react if I ever told you that I feel this lonely. I don't know what you would think if I ever told you that you're the only thing on my mind when I cry myself to sleep... if I sleep at all.

In all honesty, I've been trying not to sleep. Very unhealthy, I know, not to mention irrational. But if I sleep, I'm afraid I'll wake up and a week ago today, now, this very second... Saturday, 1:00 PM... Would all have been a stupid dream.

No, I can't tell you how I feel. The one person I can tell anything to.

Because I don't want to hurt you with my pain. Odd, how that works.

So I send you a single text message. One that completely understates my emotions and thoughts right now. One that doesn't even brush the surface of my longing for you. A text message containg three words that someday I hope you'll understand.

"I love you."

This is it...

In exactly 12 hours, I'll be with him.

I'll be searching in his eyes for the answers I need.

The answers I deserve.

My motive isn't what he thinks it is, and that's okay. He can think what he wants.

I just want to know.

So here I go, pack my stuff for the first time...

Sort through what I do and don't need...

And pray.




I'm ready to give it my all. I have been for a while.



Let's see your intentions, baby.

Lay them on the table.

I Suffer Because You're My Answer

I'm so confused.



This boy.



I don't even know what to say about him.



There are no words to describe him.



I could tell you that he's beautiful, he's hilarious, he's brilliant, he's caring, he's brave, he's strong, he's perfect...

But you wouldn't understand.



He's been there for me through everything. He knows more about me than I do. He's the only person on earth that knows everything about me. When he touched me, everything's okay. When he kisses me, I don't need anything else. When I see him, I can't see anyone else.



I saw him for the first time in a week last night. I was speechless. I hate that I'm so vulnerable. I hate that seeing him makes this all turn around on me. I hate it.

But I can't help it.

As much as I hate to admit it, I love him.
Not 16 year old "I want him to be my boooyyyyyfriend; he's soo cute" love.
I love him.
I love his flaws.
I love his imperfections.
I love his mistakes.
I love his stupidity.

He's the one I love.
He's the one I want.
He's the only one I can see myself with.



I can't help it.


So what happens now?



There are so many people who don't want me to leave. I understand that. I know I've affected just as many people as have affected me. I know people are scared for me, people are worried for me... but I hope that whatever choice I make, they support me.



I'm not making my decision for anyone else but me.

Not for my friends, not for my mom, not for Kevin.

I'm going to do what I want to do.
Because that's who I was, am, and always will be.







The people that I love will understand that.





The people that love me will accept it.

At this point, It's more rational to count heartbeats than tears.

"I love you."

I've spent the last two days convincing myself that I can do this whole "getting over it" thing.
That all hope for us diminished with your love for me.
I've been told and I've told myself that I'm independent.
Strong.
Beautiful.
Brave.
...Okay.
I'm not okay.

I'm a fucking train wreck.

I am. I've been snapping at my best friends. I haven't eaten anything but oranges in two days, minus my handy wintergreen gum that I carry JUST IN CASE I need a vice. I can't do ANYthing with out coming seconds away from a hysterical breakdown. My eyes are twitching. My ears are bleeding. I'm literally falling apart at the seams.
I can't sleep. I can't think. I've been laying on the couch; I can't lay in my own fucking bed.

Because all I think of is waking up during that thunderstorm and clinging to you for protection.
I can still feel your arms around me.
What am I supposed to do now?

"Better now than later."
"Better to have loved and lost..."
But I haven't lost. Not yet.
I almost wish I would. I would love to hate you.
I would love to be bitter and pissed off, cynical and fired up.
I'm in love with you.
You're just not "in love" with me... anymore...?

You were. I saw it in your eyes. I felt it in your touch. I could taste it in your kiss.
So where did it go?
What's wrong with me?
What did I do?
What CAN I do?

...do I even want to do anything?

I would love to have this fairy tale plotted out in my head.
But you said it yourself:
"Maybe in a perfect world. This isn't a perfect world."
I didn't expect everything to be perfect.
I knew things would be complete shit.
It would suck.
I would miss you.
I would be lonely.
But I would love you unconditionally.
Unconditionally.

When we started dating,
You were 15 and 400 miles away.

THERE IS NO SENSE IN THAT!

That's what love is. Imagination over Intelligence.
Doing the stupid shit for love.
Moving across the state...
For that boy.

...that silly boy that you fell in love with when you were 16 year old...

But things change, right?
People change.
Places change.
Economies change.
Ideas change.

And all you have left is a pocket of hope and a fist clasped around a bundle of memories.

Because hope doesn't change.
Memories don't change.

...as long as you hold on to them. Tightly.

Love has never made sense. It didn't make sense at 3 am and 15 years old when you swore to me you were going to steal your dad's car to come see me right now, and that no one, not the cops, not your parents, not anyone, was going to keep you from me.

Maybe love isn't supposed to make sense. Yeah, it works out sometimes for the better, but not always. But who am I kidding? I don't know much about love. I've only been there once, really.



The smartest woman I've ever met told me:
"Sometimes the hardest thing you'll ever have to do is also the most rewarding."

When I heard that, I jumped at it. I knew that moving away from my friends and family was going to be hard, but if I can just show myself that I can do this, that I can be my OWN person and be what I want to be, I would be rewarded. I thought my reward was you.

I think I got it all backwards, actually...

Because the hardest thing for me to do would be to watch you go.
I was so blinded that I didn't even want that to be a possibility.
I couldn't fathom letting you go.

"Sometimes the hardest thing you'll ever have to do is also the most rewarding."

I've been turning it over in my head since Sunday. Am I supposed to let you go? Is this God's way of showing me that I'm just not cut out for Sioux City? Tossing and turning, lyric after lyric thrown into a binder... none of it makes sense... it's all gibberish... for now.

"Keeping tabs on the things you do,
The steps you skip, the words you choose"

"I'm not concerned about what do to,
I'd do anything you ask me to."

and my favorite:

"I'm not afraid of losing you,
I'm afraid I already have..."



I was never good at good-bye.
You know that more than anyone.
I had never cried harder than when I watched you leave for the first time.
I sent you home with a frame with a picture of me
And my song notebook... which WAS me...

I gave you more that weekend than I have ever given anyone. Ever.
No amount of money or time was worth what I gave you January 1st, 2007.
And I don't regret it for a second.
Because you are worth every good-bye.
Every tear I shed.
Every moment spent missing you.
Don't let me be a waste of film, space and time.
Don't let this be our good-bye.

I may not have the part of you I used to have...
But I hope I still have some part of you.
And how unfortunate is it,
That you have no idea how much of me
You will always have.

Nobody will understand what we have (had?),
Because we didn't even understand it.
A majority of our relationship was built on
Things that other people can't see.
And I've never told anyone they were wrong about you.
But I never tried explaining, either.
You're something else.
Different.
Real.
Something I can't ever put into words.

You still love me.
You're not "in love" with me.

More words to turn over in my head while I toss my sheets around.
I understand them.
I just don't get them.
I'm not there yet.

My best friend says that I'm "18 going on 31"
and you're "17 going on 18."
But maybe it's the other way around.
Maybe you've gotten past this petty teenage love.
And I'm still stuck in the ditch.
I'm only digging a bigger hole, y'know.

She says I don't need you. She's right.
I don't.
I spent three years straight on that stage,
Begging god for you to burst in those auditorium doors
Just to show me that you really did care.
Now, just because you didn't, doesn't mean I thing you don't care.
I know you did.
But I was okay climbing down that stage alone.
I was fine.
I landed, sometimes the heels were tricky,
But I never had your hand to help me down.
I was okay on my own.

I don't need you to know I'm beautiful.
I don't need you to make me strong.
I don't need you to be in my future.
I don't need you to hold my hand.
I don't need you to make me a path.
I don't need you to show me the light.
I don't need you to tell me "Baby, everything's gonna be okay."
I don't need you.

I just need to know that it wasn't a waste of time.
That deep down, you hoped it would work, too.
Even though it probably won't.
I just need to know that you finally believed in something...



Me.



That would make all the difference in the world to me.

He loves me... He loves me not...

I got on here to tell you everything.
But I don't know what to say.
I really don't have words for this.

Like I said, I almost saw this coming. I should have.
"You're beautiful"
"I miss you."
"I love you."
Do you remember the last time you told me that?
Any of it?

You change the topic. You play it off like I'm joking. You flat out LEAVE.
What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to feel?
Where do I go from here?
A quiet let down, a few consolations, and a final good-bye.
Will I ever see your face again?
Or is this it?
The end.

I tried. I tried again and again to show you that I can do it. You didn't believe.
You never did.
You told me you did. Said it would be great. Told me it's a way.
It never was.

You've been thinking for a while.
It wasn't about me, was it?
I wasted all this time, thinking about you. Waiting for you.
Praying for you. Praying for this.
THIS.
A joke, right?
I thought this was done.

You love me. You're not in love with me.
I've heard that line so many times.
I thought it was done.

Rememer that bench? Where you scratched our initials with the keys to your car?
I sat there on my lunch break the other day.
I cried because I missed you. Because I loved you.
Because I KNEW you were on the other end of those tears, thinking about me.
I don't want to cry over you anymore.
I thought it was done.

You walk out after I tell you that I'm lost.
That I don't know what to do.
You fucking. walk. out.
So, goodnight?

I guess it's done.