Trying

Seventh Visit

(The format of this ones different simply because I'm too lazy to change it.)

I think people like being sad. Not so sad that they can't get out of bed and not depressed, but more like the sadness you feel when it's raining out. I met him in the rain. Tall, brown messy hair, dull blue eyes, sharp features and a smile that could kill. Only that's not true, none of that happened. We grew up together actually, I never met him I just always knew him. The next part is easy to figure out, we kept growing up together, became best friends, soon we liked each other and after, we became romantic with each other. I got to be with my best friend, I got my high school sweet heart, he was mine. Not a lot of people can say that.

We talk, and kiss and connect, but we aren't together. I don't know what we are anymore. We still joke like friends, and hang out like friends, but when we're alone we aren't friends anymore. I'm too weak to let go, I've invested so much time into myself just for him that I don't know who I am any more. I only played games he liked, I only watched shows he liked, I only talked to people he liked. I lost so much when we were together, that now I can't figure out where I'm suppose to be anymore. Would I have met someone else by now, would I be in college by now, would I have a job by now, would I be happy by now? He opened his world up to me and I explored for years, I enjoyed myself, I was comfortable. Now I'm trapped in it, suffering every time I see his face, crying every time I think I'll be let go, crying every time I think I won't be able to come back. My inner conflict is very self distractive.

I've felt pain but not like this, I would honestly prefer if he actually just beat the shit out of me instead of this slow burn that starts from the inside out. He's inside, he knows my secrets, he knows my thoughts, he knows me. That's why I can't leave. The next person won't know me, I can't let anyone else in like I did with him. I'm lucky he's not insane, I'm sure he's said some of my secrets but the big ones have yet to spill. He knows me so well because he had the gun, while I handed over the ammo lovingly. My gun has yet to taste a bullet. That's too dramatic for real life though. We aren't movie stars or main characters, but I tricked myself into thinking we were. He was a beautiful actor, while I was just acting. If he leaves me to my own thoughts too long I start to think like this. In metaphors that would bring a tear to any tumblr fans eyes, I'm thankful that I think this way. I feel more wise than I am, I feel like I know myself. Like I knew him.

People like to feel sad. I like to feel sad, not the crushing feeling, more a cold shower. I say this as if it's been months but it's only been two weeks. We've gone much longer not talking, but this two weeks will become three, and then a month. I can't think about the next time I might see him because that builds me up. I'll get happy, everyday waiting to see if he's free, waiting to see if he'll ask to hang out, waiting, waiting, waiting. I stopped trying but I wasn't done with him. He started to try, but maybe he's done with me now. This visit was as close to sex with a guy I'm probably going to get. I'm not going into detail like before but we made some huge leaps that night, but I probably took it too far. It was awkward after, we snapped out of our lustful stupor and stayed close the rest of the night watching whatever on Netflix. I was more enjoying the moment, I knew that was going to be the last time for a long time.

After re-reading this yeah, it's a cringe fest.