I don’t usually do this.
It’s 1AM & I’m with two of the loves of my life, but still I’m making a point to answer for you because, in this moment, nothing is as important to me as the sound of your voice.
I don’t usually do this…
You want to see me as much as I want to see you, but the importance of another midterm couldn’t be less important than it is NOW, and the distance between us couldn’t be shorter than it is NOW, and your voice couldn’t be more full of hope than it is… right NOW.
I promise that I don’t usually do this…
But really, what kind of girl passes up the chance to chase her own love story & sucker punch Nicolas Sparks in the mouth? Our story was better than that. Well, it could’ve been better than that…
“I don’t usually do this.”
That’s what I told you as I put my car in gear and took off with V & Charmander in tow. I was perfectly elated at the very thought of seeing your face, even if it was in front of those accursed Golden Arches that neither of us would be able to contribute to. I don’t mean that just because of our mutual preference of veggies, but because of the same butterflies that were taking our guts by storm, robbing us of any semi-decent meal.
I don’t usually do this…
I let you kiss me on our second date, if you really wanna call it that. But it’s ok, because I already knew you. Or maybe I just thought I knew you. With a beard like that, I’d believe anything that came out of your mouth… But I think you knew that about me, too.
I don’t usually do this.
By the time you said, “I want you for myself,” I was already putty in your hands. Suddenly those Golden Arches looked a little bit more like a halo, and the few chords you strummed for me on that guitar echoed between my ribs. Just so you know, that echo never faded.
I don’t usually do this.
A kiss in the rain? You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, right? I swear to God, you planned that because perfect moments don’t happen in the real world. That’s something you taught me in the next few months. Trust me, I’ve taken that lesson to mind, but not to heart because there’s not much there after the time bomb you left.
I don’t usually do this…
Still high off your scent, still drunk off your lips, still warm from your embrace, I waited with bated breath for each of your calls. Because you left me with that look that said, “Wait for me.” I’m sorry I didn’t read the part that said, “…until I get bored.”
I don’t usually do this. But I really should. So I’m gonna stop right now. And take some pride in my silence. Because my breath should be wasted on me instead of you.
I don’t usually say this… But you’re gonna have to work for it, babe.
It’d be fine if I could control myself to only think in average amounts, but my mind can’t help itself and dives off into the deep end every single time. Even over the smallest issues.
My chest tightens after each wave of ridiculous expectation, and I can feel my lungs turn cold with the iciness of doubt. Rather than allowing myself a nice daydream by the sand, I’m dragged into the black waters of hopelessness and defeat.
It’s not fair. I just want my face to feel the sun without layering it with Crisco first.
Ooooh, how embarrassing.
*squeals*
Results of most recent nocturnal escapades:
- grass on my clothes & hair
- Lady Gaga stuck in my head
- wavy hair from morning dew
- 5 new texts from V
- dizzy from paint fumes
- Sharpie stars on my ankle
- sleep deprived delirium mind set
- goosebumps
- random scratches on my legs
- ideas for a new club of nocturnal people
- warm fuzzies in my heart (:
Yep, sounds about right.
You’ve never truly lived until you’ve stayed up until almost 7am learning another person’s life story. And tonight/this morning, I’ve lived like I never have before.
Victoria is, without a doubt, one of the most inspiring people I’ve come across in my lifetime. She’s raw, and real, and beautiful, and loving, and I’m so happy to have her in my life.
I’m so glad to know that I’m not the only nocturnal beast around here.
I love you, Hoodie! :3
P.S. If you don’t already know her… you’re missing out on life. Fix it.
- Emily: Are you mad?
- Me: I am SO mad at you right now. /sarcasm
- Emily: Dani, don't be a bitch.
- Me: Why don't you chill the fuck out?
- Emily: DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO.
- Me: I ain't telling you shit.
- Emily: Why are you being like this?!
- Me: YOU STARTED IT.
I just want to curl up and sleep for days. I’ve never been so exhausted, physically or mentally. Unfortunately, I have two tests to study for, so I’m forced to actually get up and do something. Even if I could avoid all of that, my own bed has been ruined for me and I can’t even get under the covers without my head exploding into an infinite number of thoughts.
Just holding out for the weekend.
- Prof: Why should we not accept gay marriage?
- Class: *silence*
- Student: ...Because of the Bible.
- Prof: Because the Bible says that marriage should only be between a man and a woman?
- Student: Yes.
- Prof: The Bible also says that a black man or woman cannot marry a white man or woman.
BlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlah
I’m gonna finish off this bitch of a day with 2 final thoughts:
#1: Is a less-than-ideal reality/past really so hard to accept? Is it so bad that it forces you to lie and deceive (to yourself and everyone else) just past the point that makes you seem like a different person entirely? I would rather know you as a beautiful human with your flaws and mistakes than this seemingly perfect person that could never relate to my insecurities and shortcomings. You’re more of my hero as a screwup than as a saint.
#2: I know that communication is hard, especially if it truly reveals anything of significance about your character and/or inner-workings. But it’s necessary to any relationship of any form, be it as lovers, friends, or family. If you don’t feel the security to communicate important things in your life to me, then whomever we think we are to each other will never progress, strengthen, or be real past a certain point of reluctant comfort. I will never push you to do more than you want, but know that as much as I really want to know you I’m limited by your own sense of “communication.”
BlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlahBlah
