I hate my ceiling. I hate my bed. My desk. My dinner table. I hate everywhere I am without you.
I hide it, but I am angry all the time. Angry at me for not getting it right. Angry at you for having a really great time without me in the desert. Angry at poor randoms sitting next to me just for not being you as if they are taking your chair.
Two things I always forget about you: how pretty you are and how much you light me up. I think I know these things but I forget the magnitude of each. Little plastic castle every damn time.
I want to make out with every girl who wants me. I want to black out gamble. I want to run. But I am resigned to the futility of any of these options. They aren’t what I want at all.
I just want to be with you. I don’t want us to end up a tragic love story because we could never cave even for a moment. I know you hate when I say that I love you. But it is uncharacteristically short sighted of you to think we are anything but. I have loved you for a thousand lives and there are a thousand more to come. But this trip, we could lose each other at any moment. You say it like you know it, but you don’t act like it.
Just give me a chance. Like a real chance, like we used to. We can get it right together, I swear. I am trying so hard to trust you. I am sure you are trying too. But I trust me, which has got to count for something. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to hold you and be held by you for real. That’s not true, I want to do a lot more than hold you but all of it is good and none of it is bad. I believe in us; I really do. Gotta count for something, baby.