Basically, I have two speeds…. Hostile or smart-aleck. Your choice.
Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe I said too much.
But so did you.
I am about to polish off a bottle of wine. Phone is off to minimize the likeliness of me texting asshole exes
Then I realize what it is. It’s him. Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.
My wish is that you may be loved to the point of madness.
You know what I’m worried about the most? I’m worried that this is one sided. I’m worried that I am here, missing you, heart broken, feeling alone. And you are fine. I’m worried that I look like a fool. A stupid little fool. That I fell for your tricks. That I fell for all the cheesy lines. I’m worried that you checked me off your list. And that was all you wanted.
There was this guy in high school, he was a cool guy, a hot shot, “too cool for school” as they say. He came to Colchester in the middle of high school. He was instantly “accepted” by the “in crowd”. I remember the first time I ever saw him. He was handsome, had the best smile. I think he moved here from California or something, so he had better clothes than all of us “rednecks”. He was the type of guy that I couldn’t make direct eye contact with. I was never able to. I would look down. The one time I was able to gather enough confidence to actually attempt a sentence, I was interrupted by this girl…. I hated her for the longest time because of that. Until recently, I have wondered what it would be like to be with him. What it would be like to kiss him, or hug him even. What it would be like to get a chance with a guy I have borderline worshiped since my junior year of high school. I will never get a chance with him. I’m not at all his type.
Why do I bring this up?
Ethan told me he was that way with me. I was this beautiful girl that he couldn’t even look at. That he was so shy around. He told me that he daydreamed for years as to what it would be like to even have a conversation with me, not to mention, go on a date with me. He made me feel so special. I melted into his trap. I gave him what he wanted. He left for North Carolina, stopped responding to my texts, stopped calling. And now I am here. Alone, embarrassed, and jolted.
I’ll get over this. At least enough to stop talking about it all the time. Like I did with Frank. He is still on my mind, but I’m ok enough to not mention him at all… And one day, when I heal my bruised pride, I will stop talking about Ethan too.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.