getting over you is easier said than done (especially if my subconscious has anything to do with it)

i had a dream about you last night. it had been so long since the last one, so it was refreshing, at first. a little wish fulfillment was welcome, since you are otherwise preoccupied.

but it didn’t feel like a dream. it didn’t feel like a dream because we were in the exact same situation as we are now. i longed for you, and you loved her. she wasn’t in the dream, thank god. one can only take so much, you know?

the whole dream was that. maybe that would have been good for someone that doesn’t love you like i do. i don’t know. maybe what i have for you is just an obsession and that’s why it hurts so much. whatever the case, any semblance of ‘getting over you’ is gone.

there was too much reality. that was the problem.

reality has no place in dreams.

needless to say, my subconscious and i aren’t on the best terms right now.

im playing some early 2000’s punk pop (and thinking about what my name sounded like when you said it like i was your world)

i’m very happy and very sad all at once. for the first time in a long time, i’m where i’m supposed to be. i don’t feel so alone. when people realized that i was returning from the frozen tundra, the joy they felt was immense. indescribable, almost. they were so happy. their voices, their faces, their expressions, their all-caps outbursts on social media… all of that validation was like christmas to me; i’m all about that shit. validation and praise is a drug, and i am a fucking addict.

i think this explains a good deal about how i still love you and allow you to crush me under the weight of your indifference. you made me feel special, at a time. hard as it is to believe, once upon a time, you fucking adored me. in those days, we knew nothing of ‘moderation’ when it came to each other… when it came to us. us because we were inseparable. before you came along, i didn’t truly understand what it meant to be attached at the hip.

if we weren’t physically touching, we weren’t in the same room. we talked for hours, but we didn’t need to fill the silence up with words to feel comfortable around each other. we could sit in silence, hold hands, and stare out at the world. the words came easily, but they didn’t serve as camouflage, like it had in other relationships of mine. we saw each other for we were, and that was enough for us.

you are the closest thing i’ve ever had to a ‘soulmate’. maybe i’m being dramatic, but if we’d met at a different time, we would have ended up together. we would have been an earth-shattering force. this is not to devalue the strength and importance of our platonic relationship, but i’ve never met anyone else that i’ve wanted to be with more. in a different life, you were ‘it’ for me. i’m sure of this.

all this… makes me wonder if it was as hard for you as it was for me when i was away. i want so badly to ask if you missed me even half as much as i missed you. i wish i could know without asking.

maybe the fact that i can’t tell is more telling than anything else.

… all this to say;

i saw him today.

i felt him look right through me.

my heart quietly shattered as he walked away.

new year, old regrets

the desert was a constant disappointment, but at least it never deceived me. the desert is now the place i long for, when a year ago, i longed for the rolling hills and craggy mountains of this place where i now live.

i don’t want my old life back, per se. i don’t want to even think about living in that hovel again, where my only comforts were my music, played too loud, and my canine companion, who, i convinced myself, was the only one happy to see that i was still alive at the end of every grueling school day.

i just miss them. all of them. i text them, i skype them, they promise to send me packages for my birthday and we dream of reuniting under the summer sun, but, somehow, that is not enough. i have slipped into old habits again– not the more gruesome ones, not the ones that required me to spill my own blood over the kitchen sink, although the thoughts are tempting. even though i have no physical aches, i take painkillers in efforts to numb me to my emotional pain and kill the thoughts that endlessly race through my head; at least that hasn’t changed, my thoughts are as hectic as ever…

i still wonder how my life would be now, had i chosen to stay in that beautiful desert—i nearly wretch at calling it more than a wasteland, but that wasteland has him, and the rest of our friends, within its sandy, unforgiving grasp. i’ve become soft on it, even nostalgic for it, because of this. my whole world is in that desert, and it is not fair that i live outside of its scope, which used to seem boundless.

i want a lot of things, many of them, i can’t have, none of them material.
i want you, the rest of them, to drive up and hug my sadness away, make me laugh so hard i can’t breathe. but i know that the world doesn’t work like that, and we are just in high school. we cannot drop everything to cross state lines in order to hang out, no matter how dearly i wish we could.

but mostly, i just want things to get better here, so i don’t feel like shit. i have friends—not any worth mentioning, or any that are legendary in any sense of the word—i’m not as much of a loser as i thought i was. i had a few dates, and of course they ended in tragedy. such is life, or, at least, my life.

i long for the sun on my face. the summer calls to me as one lover would to another, desperately, especially when i feel dire and hopeless. i yearn for other places, places not here, not forgettable, beaches and sunshine and the unknown. i ache for the embraces of lovers i’ve not met yet; i need to get the past out of my head, lest i long for that even more, too.

i am not happy here. but i wasn’t happy there, not all the time, anyways.

sometimes i feel like i am getting the hang of living here, that i am back in the swing of things, back in the groove that i had going before my life crumbled right before my eyes back in september. of course, these hopes are dashed almost as soon as they are realized, and i am mercilessly thrown back into the maddening cycle, without a prayer of escaping anytime soon.

one thing is certain; i have never wanted graduation more badly than i do now.