ihavebeenfloated

I can’t do this all or nothing shit. I can’t remember exactly what I said to you, but I hope I didn’t imply that I wanted you to cut me off entirely. I know it’s your style, but I can’t help but think that perhaps I put things more strongly than I had intended.

I miss you. I don’t have anyone I can talk to like I can talk to you. I didn’t ever have anyone I could talk to like I can talk to you. And now I kinda feel like I shit all over that… And for what? Just so I don’t get all upset and depressed over you being out with some guy while I sit at home—by choice—with my thumb up my ass? I’m not jealous of them, I am jealous of you, being pretty and having fans. What happened to my fans? Where’d they all go?

That’s right, they don’t exist. Again, by choice I am alone, and no matter how I try to fight it, I want to stay alone. I want all these things I don’t want. I want you as much as I know that it’s not worth it, that there is no point in risking what we have by pushing the topic, so I don’t. Unfortunately the prospect of watching some dude rub up on you in front of my still destroys me for eighteen thousand different reasons.

Maybe I’m jealous of them.
I’m jealous of you.
I’m just a horny fuck who wants to rub up on something himself.
None of these pricks are as good to you as I am.
None of them are as good, period.
I miss the days when I had a girl around who wanted to rub up on me.
I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be looked at by someone who loves you, or who is just that into you.
We make such an awesome team it almost seems like there is someone intruding on an inside joke that isn’t any of their business.

And all these things are small matters that can be suppressed, but when they add up, something large collapses in my mind and I just can’t take it anymore. But, honestly, I’d rather spend weeks in a silent depression over you than get completely ignored, totally cut off.

I don’t want to be melodramatic, but how am I supposed to get thru some of these days without at least a phone call from you? I felt like shit at Chili’s, knowing what I was going to have to say, but the minute I saw you the weight of my entire day (which was awful) lifted off my shoulders and I genuinely smiled when you smiled at me. For a second I thought, “I don’t need to say anything at all,” then I came back to the realization that my reaction to your presence is what causes a negative reaction to your absence.

It’s so easy to be happy around you that when you’re gone it’s easy to get upset over whatever. This is my problem, this is why I said we can’t be friends. What I meant to say is that we can’t be close like we were.

I was building my entire day around you. “Yeah, I can hang out until about 9, then Becca will call me and I’ll have to pick her up from work.” What began as a favor turned into habit, and habit turned into something I wanted. You were always the first person I called, in the morning, after class. Even if I had prior plans I still called you to set something up.

You were basically my woman, without being my woman, and although I realized how ridiculous it all looked as it was happening, I knew that the logical side of myself was detached. Little did I know that my emotional side was punching my logical side in the stomach repeatedly.

I’m not stupid, I’m not naive. I’m just a woman who can’t control her emotions no matter how hard I try. My emptiness, my loneliness causes me to look at you with doe eyes and at night I end up dreaming of us being all happy and together like the couple that could cure cancer if we fused our brains… And not thru science but the power of pure cheesey wild love. Ridiculous, really, which is why I didn’t talk about them, why I didn’t push the topic.

But still, it burns inside me. All those dreams, all those thoughts and sideways glances and playful conversations about awful things. I still imagine you as my minion, scurrying about the day, getting fed on by me at night. Those things will never change, and it’s not a matter of screwing your face up—because it’s not a matter of you being the prettiest thing ever, I’ve told you (and you didn’t listen) that you aren’t the hottest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on…

But to me you are so far beyond any woman or girl I’ve ever met that I can’t help but be marginally infatuated especially when I ain’t got no one on my side. You and I, what we’ve got, well, you know how it is. What is more real than us? Nothing, I’d say, and I’ll leave it at that.

So, sure, I said we can’t be friends, and I guess we can’t, but damnit, I need to talk to you. I need to know you’re still out there, that we’re OK in some way. I need to know that when I need you, you’ll be there. I’d be there, but you’re so independent woman, when the hell would you need me…

So, there you go, all the things I want to say to you, but can’t. I fucked up, I dropped the ball, whatever. Now I just kind of feel empty inside.

There are so many things I want to tell you about.