reading missed connections

I like reading these, it's kinda fun. I feel like a kid at x-mas opening one up and hoping it may be me. Even when it's not, it's still interesting to see the vibrance of life that goes on around me every single day.

Then, however, reality sets in and I'm fairly certain I'll never be the object of desires posted here. I'm kinda invisible. Not that I'm unattractive; I think I'm better than average; I have a great smile, beautiful eyes, a good butt, I'm tall enough; however, chances are I'm not what most people are looking for, and I'm fairly cool with that. I realize I do it too; while staring at the hottie on the other side of the train, hoping to catch her eye; I'm probably staring straight through a cute, smart, lovely, and perfectly wonderful girl (who I would have noticed had Miss Hot-Mess not been in my line-of-sight), who is noticing me. I have to remind myself of that at times. If I really want to find someone to be happy with and perhaps spend the rest of my life with, I need to stop ogling the girl that probably has someone already and gets leered at by every other guy on the train and probably isn't what I really want in a person anyway. I'm going to stop ignoring Miss Perfect-For-Me just to get a look at the Miss High-Maintenance.

So let that be a lesson for all of you ladies out there as well; while you're drooling over Mr. McGorgeous, you've rendered invisible Mr. Great Guy, who would walk the world twice over just to have you catching him looking at you, and give him a smile.



one cigarette

Smoking at face value feels like removing yourself from what's going on, the angst of the moment seems to melt away. However, it is quickly replaced by the worry of the rest of the moments.
One puff; one inhale, one exhale.
Removes being afraid of being late, being afraid of being found out. Removes the worry of not liking what I'm doing. What replaces it is worse. Silence, of being alone. Alone, always alone.
One puff; one inhale, one exhale.
This place really sucks. Why do I hate being here, why do I hate all of these people, why am I still here? I'm so bored and so anxious at the same time.
One puff; one inhale, one exhale.
Why do I still love her; how can I bring her back to me.
One puff; one inhale, one exhale.
She doesn't think of me, I don't want her really, I'm meant to be alone.
I tear up.
Quickly puff; inhale, exhale.
What if people find out I'm a fraud; when will they figure out I don't want to be here; I don't want to do this? I'm never going to find anyone who wants me again. Did anyone actually love me? Do I always have to be alone? Is there even a choice?
One puff; one inhale, one exhale.
I'll be okay, just another couple of hours left at work. Then I can go home. Two more cigarettes before I leave.
One puff; one inhale, one exhale.
Go home to what? More Alone. TV. Computer. Video Games. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to call. Just more alone. No friends to see, no girl to love me, to love me.
I tear up.
One puff; one inhale, one exhale, this didn't last long.

the only phone call I must not make

I fear that if I do not write this down that I will, in fact, go crazy. Why is it the phone call that I must not make is the one phone call that I feel so desperate to make. I want to pick up the phone and hear your voice. I want to pick up the phone and tell you how so utterly I still love you, how maddeningly sad I am that I cannot talk to you. I'm sitting here, at my desk, unable to hold back the tears of the years of living without you. years of my life struggling to move on, struggling to find my way without your presence to guide me, to follow my, to accompany me through them. years of feeling I have betrayed the best friend I've ever had in my life, the person with which I had shared my highest hopes and my darkest secrets, the person whom I had but to see smile and feel as if the world were a place I could live in, that person is gone. And indeed you are gone; protected from the rollercoaster of my emotions, protected from the backwash of my insecurities, protected from the pain of my lies. I envy you, for also being the strongest person I've ever known; taking the bumps life had given you (including myself as one) and turning them into the motivation for everything you do. 

buffy and cinnamon rolls

Ugh, the Holidays.
As if every sunday (our day to spend watching buffy and eating cinnamon rolls) wasn't bad enough.
As if I didn't realize on the 2nd it would be our monthiversary.
As if lying in bed with a perfectly good (for you despite my snoring) nook without your presence wasn't growing cold.
There's nothing like the Holidays to make me feel specifically alone, especially when I had spent a few with you; the person I thought I'd be spending the rest of them with.
Alas, those days are past, that chapter (as you so aptly put it) is over. Knowing that, however, doesn't make it any easier, doesn't make me hurt any less, doesn't make me miss you any less.
It is, in fact, more difficult to know:
that your favorite holiday, Halloween, was another night I spent thinking about our knight/damsel matching costumes, or one night in a bar, you didn't seem to mind that my costume was me in everyday life;
that Thanksgiving has just passed and the times we spent with your family, our family, in Minnesota;
that Xmas is around the corner and we had our little tree, our perfect-for-us little tree, or a vacation at the Alamo;
that New Year's Eve is another hop skip and a jump away, remembering that one year that I missed kissing you and you missed kissing me or that we spent an evening eating tapas and bumping into everyone around us while attempting to dance salsa.

My memories of you, of us, are so wonderful and yet so painful.
I love you,
I always have and
I always will; and
I hope that during your Holidays you're making new wonderful memories.