A Bad Case of Nostalgia

Missing someone in that bad sort of way.

Don’t act dumbfuzzled and yes, I know that wasn’t a complete sentence, but don’t pretend like you don’t know what I mean.

It’s that wrenching feeling in your heart; its cliché like something’s missing. It’s that empty feeling in your stomach. It’s the smile that almost comes to your face, if it weren’t for the tears whaling in your eyes.

It could be the picture that’s still tucked into my mirror, a song, or something as dumbed-down and pop culture as your name popping up in my mini feed. God, how I hate mini feed on Facebook.

::interjection:: [We are the culture of the paparazzi. We meddle and stalk our friends and foe alike. I don’t know you people, but I know who you’re dating, how much you love them, what you ate for breakfast and what homework you are doing. We are ridiculous. I am ridiculous. We all spill our guts on the World Wide Web, like this, but how many of us really have the guts to be honest in person? We do it because it’s a socially expectable release of our thoughts and emotions. Blog about it—anything, it will be out there, and we’ll never speak of it in person. This is what we do. So, here forth, I will continue the cycle… read and bask in the glory of my inner thoughts and feelings and I promise to return the favor.] ::over it::

Frankly, foolishly…there are those people in your life who you just assume will always be around. Their role, their capacity, may change, along with yours…but you just know they’ll always be around. Those people who late at night, when push led to shove and you’re face down on the ground…they’ll be there to pick you up, to listen to you, to calm, to comfort, however they can. My assumptions were wrong. I know you wouldn’t even answer the phone. Pass the blame along to “this is just how it has to be” and feel my heart sink.

Maybe it’s for the best that I haven’t called or written; what started out as a test of my own strength has gone too far and I wonder if I’ve done all the healing I can do on my own. If I reach out, will there be anything in return? It’s not your love I seek; in fact, I don’t know what I want at all, maybe just some understanding, an acknowledgment, but then, this is probably all so foolish.

Call me emo and I’ll punch you in the face.

I guess this has all come up to slap me in the face because it’s affecting the prospect of anything new. I’m on guard, I’m hurt and I’m fucking scared. So, I formally apologize to anyone who “likes” me...I’m damaged goods and the process of mending is slow, perhaps constant. And also, let me say this… I am not some easy fuck, some weekend fling, or some casual concubine to entertain you for a few months. I’ll be your best friend, I’ll rock your world, but nothing about me is simple or easy.