Searching, Dreaming: Pathetic Love

I dressed up because I knew there was a chance I would see you tonight.

I remember last semester when you told the class you were going to a poetry reading that night. I wasn’t surprised; you seemed like the type of guy who would go to yuppie poetry readings.

The event tonight was also a poetry reading of sorts.

A surprisingly well-known writer came to the college to read her work. She finished only a couple minutes over and answered the audience’s questions with only a slight bit of sarcasm.

Elizabeth and I left as soon as we felt it was socially acceptable to leave.

It was a school night and I was exhausted from an unexpectedly hectic Monday. Also, the coffee served at the reception prior to the event left a burnt, bitter taste in my mouth, and I ironically craved the new “natural” cigarettes I had bought last weekend.

I circled the little park in front of the government building (where all the government majors fashionably smoked Parliaments and discussed the absurdity of the world) once and then settled on a wooden bench illuminated by a rusty orange street light.

The smoke tasted incredibly dry tonight and I wondered if I should switch back to Marlboros.

I scrolled through Facebook and Tumblr on my phone to feel less alone in the night.

Then, as if by chance, a white wolf dog approached me. I knew he was your dog; he had to be your dog. I could see that he was definitely no longer a puppy. He looked at me with eyes that were intelligent and conscious of their intelligence.

Like your eyes.

I saw a vague shadow coming towards me from the trees; it must have been you. I quickly glanced back down at my phone and scrolled through nonsense – my contacts, my photos, settings, back to my contacts – until I sensed that I was once again alone in the night.

Part of me wanted to believe you followed me here. But how could you have? How could you have known? That part of me is a disillusioned fool. Another part of me bid me to stand up and walk back to my room.

So I stood up and walked back to my room.

As I ascended to the third floor, I made sure I didn’t “accidentally” peek out the windows, not because I didn’t want to steal a glance, but because I didn’t want to be caught stealing a glance. I entered my unlocked room and lit a pair of pine-scented candles, thinking you and your wife looked nice tonight. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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