The thing that is good for me won’t keep me wanting more. It will leave me satisfied with the amount that is simply enough, but I don’t want ‘simply’ anything. I don’t want simple.
And thus we become defined not only by the love that we give, but also by the love that we are willing to receive.
He’ll cry and you’ll wonder why you’re crying as well.
Listening to the radio. 96% of all songs are about LOVE and that’s never more evident than when you are in it, or in the midst of being forced out of it.
There have been plenty of times where you’ve called me, drunk, at some ungodly hour. You’ve told me that you want me, that you need me, that you miss me.
You don’t have to be so sad all the time. It’s not going to lift your limbs up or make you more interesting. It’s not going to do anything besides turn you into a miserable bag of bones.
You should’ve seen me before, back when I wasn’t broken. Really, I wish you could’ve. It wasn’t always tense and complicated. I wasn’t always damaged goods.
And I know your pain. I have straddled the naked thighs of my “just friends” and felt his beard against my chest. I’ve been the wing-woman, giving him relationship advice and drinking beer when it falls through.
Full disclosure: I have admittedly gone to one of Jimmy Buffett’s concerts with my parents. Watching a large crowd of slightly intoxicated 40-year-olds sway back and forth to “Fins” while imitating a shark is still one of the memories I hold closest to my heart.
Family means change. It means not being invited to Christmas at your uncle’s house anymore because you’ve drifted and time has killed any closeness you once had. It means crying about those changes and then accepting them for what they are.