iLoveYouWithaKnife
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2002
- Messages
- 8,351
Two nights ago I sat in my car at the hotel parking lot and stared at my tired, red eyes while I tried to cover up the sadness with another coat of mascara. When I decided it was useless I walked into the lounge and ordered myself a drink. I had no idea what the hell the bartender was speaking about when she was saying 'you have to'. Of course I fucking have to. I have to drink, it's not a decision. But as she continued on telling me she didn't know how I was going to be able to operate a vehicle the other night she also reminded me that i had two drinks bought for me. Hence, 'you have two'.
My eyes were focused on the square wood floor that was sworming with middle aged women who thought they could walk in with two left feet and graciously walk out with style from a free salsa dance lesson that was being offered. Sadly enough, they seemed to be enjoying themselves and I found myself looking at my feet moving towards the exit as the gosh awful gody carpet, the kind you'd find in Las Vegas, silenced my footsteps for a rude get-away where good-byes didn't have to be spoken.
Six hours, two bars, and alot of drinks later I found myself exiting a friend's house looking up and down the street for my car. When I found it, I examined it for any new marks, dents, or chipped paint that would remind me of another time I shouldn't have been driving and off I went.
I was awoken the next morning by the front door closing so I walked out in the hall only to find the guy who had taken my heart to Colorado with him close to nine months ago. It didn't bother me the slightest bit that he invited himself down to my house to play horseshoes with his friend, because I was still drunk from the night before and I just wanted to sleep. Besides, he didn't return my phone call the other night and he wanted to apologize. I told him that it didn't matter anyway because I got rediculous drunk. He continued to tell me it did matter.
What mattered was he was getting back on a plane in a few short days where he would continue to find his future while I stayed 2000 miles away looking for a bar that would serve me. I've thought about the fact that maybe I wanted him so much was because I couldn't have him. I knew he was leaving when we first started hanging out. It's the only relationship in my exsistance where it didn't end miserably, it just ended. There was no imagery that I would track him down the day he was leaving and confess my feelings for him, and he would change his mind and stay. He said I'm leaving, and I said goodbye.
Three hours later when I got myself together for work, I found him sitting in his friends car listening to music. He was drunk already and I was jealous. I didn't want to photograph high school baseball and sit at a desk for hours waiting for news to happen. I wanted to be in love for a few hours.
I found him sleeping on my couch that night, after I could not stand the smell of the stale beer and smoke. I was tired of hearing other people's conversations and drunken antics. Besides, I was getting obnoxious and pissing off my friends most likely. I figured I'd leave the bar before I called another guy I had been with at some point the wrong name. He fell asleep in my room and I smoked a bowl trying to numb the feelings and stop the questions I'd been asking myself for the last half hour. I've been an aquantaince of his for years, but I always thought I was the one who was out of his league. I never would have imagine that he would have fell for me just the same. And at that moment I realized there was absolutely nothing I could do but saying goodbye to him again for the third time.
He'd find his way back to me eventually and he'd suprise me the same exact way he always does when he comes to visit.
When he walked out of my room in the morning, something felt different. I stared at the little bit of light that shone through the layers of material hung on the window sill as I listened to the sound of the gravel his car made in my driveway. I wanted him to go this time. I wanted to continue to be the girl he was in love with without ruining it. I had to feel that way because I had no other choice. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and returned to the place where I could reroute my thoughts and make things happen the way I wanted them to.
My eyes were focused on the square wood floor that was sworming with middle aged women who thought they could walk in with two left feet and graciously walk out with style from a free salsa dance lesson that was being offered. Sadly enough, they seemed to be enjoying themselves and I found myself looking at my feet moving towards the exit as the gosh awful gody carpet, the kind you'd find in Las Vegas, silenced my footsteps for a rude get-away where good-byes didn't have to be spoken.
Six hours, two bars, and alot of drinks later I found myself exiting a friend's house looking up and down the street for my car. When I found it, I examined it for any new marks, dents, or chipped paint that would remind me of another time I shouldn't have been driving and off I went.
I was awoken the next morning by the front door closing so I walked out in the hall only to find the guy who had taken my heart to Colorado with him close to nine months ago. It didn't bother me the slightest bit that he invited himself down to my house to play horseshoes with his friend, because I was still drunk from the night before and I just wanted to sleep. Besides, he didn't return my phone call the other night and he wanted to apologize. I told him that it didn't matter anyway because I got rediculous drunk. He continued to tell me it did matter.
What mattered was he was getting back on a plane in a few short days where he would continue to find his future while I stayed 2000 miles away looking for a bar that would serve me. I've thought about the fact that maybe I wanted him so much was because I couldn't have him. I knew he was leaving when we first started hanging out. It's the only relationship in my exsistance where it didn't end miserably, it just ended. There was no imagery that I would track him down the day he was leaving and confess my feelings for him, and he would change his mind and stay. He said I'm leaving, and I said goodbye.
Three hours later when I got myself together for work, I found him sitting in his friends car listening to music. He was drunk already and I was jealous. I didn't want to photograph high school baseball and sit at a desk for hours waiting for news to happen. I wanted to be in love for a few hours.
I found him sleeping on my couch that night, after I could not stand the smell of the stale beer and smoke. I was tired of hearing other people's conversations and drunken antics. Besides, I was getting obnoxious and pissing off my friends most likely. I figured I'd leave the bar before I called another guy I had been with at some point the wrong name. He fell asleep in my room and I smoked a bowl trying to numb the feelings and stop the questions I'd been asking myself for the last half hour. I've been an aquantaince of his for years, but I always thought I was the one who was out of his league. I never would have imagine that he would have fell for me just the same. And at that moment I realized there was absolutely nothing I could do but saying goodbye to him again for the third time.
He'd find his way back to me eventually and he'd suprise me the same exact way he always does when he comes to visit.
When he walked out of my room in the morning, something felt different. I stared at the little bit of light that shone through the layers of material hung on the window sill as I listened to the sound of the gravel his car made in my driveway. I wanted him to go this time. I wanted to continue to be the girl he was in love with without ruining it. I had to feel that way because I had no other choice. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and returned to the place where I could reroute my thoughts and make things happen the way I wanted them to.
