I don’t have any beautiful, soul shaking prose to underwrite the feelings that I’m feeling right now. Simply memories of decisions made, good and bad at the time, woven into my heart and mind.
But it is 12:32 and I am fooling myself once again.
Checking the Facebook timeline (and Twitter and Instagram) and hoping that your name appears with a status or a photo that I can like/re-tweet/re-gram and hope that by pressing that little button, heart a-flutter, that I will cross your mind, bring a smile to your face and warrant a “just-wanted-to-see-how-you’ve-been” text.
It doesn’t happen like that, though.
Not until 1:47 in the morning on a random Friday night and you are wasted and I am confused.
I can’t pretend that I don’t appreciate the effort that it took you to reach out to me, despite the motivation for you to do so.
But I am deeply confused and I am deeply lonely and I am deeply thinking of making another bad decision as I sip on my drink at the bar, surrounded by friends who have no idea that I am contemplating this bad decision yet again.
What gain do I obtain in texting you back and just saying “whats up” like I normally do? Nothing really. Because you ask and I say yes, and the cycle continues until the next time you’re wasted and alone.
It’s sort of a lose-lose situation for both of us, if I respond yes or no. But you stand to lose more than I do.
Isn’t that what we tell ourselves to feel better – that they’ll stay miserable? In reality, you’re probably just the first in a line of girls that he’s reaching out to for comfort. Maybe not even the first one. I suppose you can take solace in being the last one to be texted and not to respond, leaving him just as alone as you are.
But you can never know for sure, can you?
Because she could roll over in the middle of the night and text you back, can’t she? I wonder if this has ever happened in my presence, as I have laid next to you with my eyes closed and breathing evenly, giving you the illusion that I’m sleeping. If you feel pangs of regret that I was the one that answered you first or if you’re relieved that I was the one to come through.
But if the shoe were on the other foot, you wouldn’t respond, would you? You would keep me hanging in the balance until you were ready to make a move, keeping the metaphorical ball in your court at all times. Never giving away the satisfaction of letting your guard down about anything regarding your heart or my heart and the way they intertwine with and within each other, contradicting everything your soul whispers softly to mine. But now it’s 12:34 and I’m staring at my phone and wondering if you’d respond back to the text that I’ve waited 8 minutes even look at. Wondering. Considering making another bad decision.