I’ve spent my morning indulged in last night’s leftovers - pizza and chicken. I guess in some picture perfect world, I’d have woken up early enough to catch the sunrise, make some breakfast, read some stupid book about hopeless love and some other bullshit at some over-priced coffee shop that’s filled with people that also want to pretend they have something to look forward to on a Sunday. But this is reality and I find myself sitting here, listening to some sad love song on repeat that I’ve only just discovered. Pathetic.
I’ve gone off on a tangent on things that are completely irrelevant to the subject matter of what I really want to talk to you about. Okay, you probably are the least bit surprised that my mind runs off like this. I mean, otherwise, you still wouldn’t be reading this line here and now as you are.
Why am I writing to you today? I guess it’s cause I find myself so damn confused on this one stupid word. A word. Four letters. Fuck. Okay, the word wasn’t fuck, it’s just a four letter word that perfectly captures the way I feel about the way… I feel. I’m losing you, aren’t I? But I swear once I get to it, you’ll understand why I’m even like this.
So I’ve been sitting here, thinking. These thoughts didn’t just start here and now, but they were there last night as I was laying in bed. Heck, they were even there last week as I was working my 9 to 5 job. And, they were even there that day in November, when I got out of my car … and our eyes met for the first time. These thoughts about the way I feel and why I feel them. Thoughts about liking someone and loving someone and how stupid it all is. Thoughts like how maybe love really is just mental concept? Or maybe love is getting in the shower with your significant other… even though you know they might turn the damn knob to the coolest setting while you’re kissing and your back is facing the shower head? Maybe love is feeling like nothing else matters when you’re with this person - or maybe it’s the feeling of being so alone when they’re not with you? Maybe.. maybe love is nothing at all? And maybe, just maybe, love is sitting here trying to make sense of all the feelings you feel - because you know, you sure as hell know that maybe this is what love is supposed to feel like.
I guess what I’ve come to realize, friend, is that love has no real definition, that it has no real certainty. It’s kind of like when you’re a kid and you lend someone your favorite Pokemon card because you trust them enough that they’ll bring it back the next day at school. But once you’re home, you can’t help but to wonder if the kid’s actually going to keep it and give some bullshit lie about how he/she lost it. The thought of the card and the kid keeps you up. I guess that’s kind of what love is like: trusting someone enough to hurt you - but you hope they don’t because this friend makes you happy and their happiness is just as important.
I don’t know if that makes sense, but I guess it kind of does to me. I hope you didn’t fall asleep from this and I do hope you’re having a much more productive Sunday than I am.
Until next time,