Tired...

Just tired.

Tired.

Let Down

I don't get my hopes up with you. I always prepare myself for disappointment. I spent the weekend with you. You said you still loved me, but I'm still prepared to be let down.

Makes it easier that way.

(The flat tire should've been the clue.)

The whole premise of this "blog" was to document me starting a new chapter in my life. Yes, it's a new chapter, but you're still in my life. Whether this is due to fate, or some sort of grand farce, I don't know.

I turned my phone off tonight. I know I'll end up turning it back on ... but for not, I cannot talk to you.

Plans

"I'll make you dinner once a week."

"Do you want to come with me to see the Flugtag on the 19th?"

He makes plans. He wants to make plans.

I turned down a date with someone else. Granted, I wasn't attracted to him, but I turned it down.

I turned it down because of the plans.

It's No Less Intense

It's no less intense, even after parting. I found myself lying in his arms again at three o'clock in the morning, slightly inebriated from cheap vodka. He feels warm and familiar, and I kiss him passionately. We just touch and lie intertwined as if we had never parted. It's no less intense; a bit of alcohol cannot make up for passion. I felt it again.

He took out his old cell phone to show me the text messages that were shared a year ago. (I had my first date with him exactly a year ago, at this moment in time sitting in a movie theater feeling nervous and awkward.)

Why is he doing this? I feel my heart sink, but rise at the same time. Is that even possible?

He shows me the messages matter-of-factly, and reminisces... and at the same time quizzing me to make sure I remember as well.

Who stole the first kiss? It was me. You were not feeling well that night, but I kissed you any way.

And then we laid in each other's arms. I remembered how fast your heart beats; it always made me nervous to hear a heart pound so intensely.

And after a year, it's no less intense.

The More I Know..

I hate you. It's as simple as that. I loathe and despise you and everything you stand for, yet I still care about you. Who is the fool? The more I know about you, the less I like you.