Damn Me

I miss you. In the depth of my soul I ache for you. I question the road you chose and wonder why it led you so far away. I miss the smell of your chest pressed against mine. I miss the taste of your kiss- I’m not even supposed to remember that, but I long for the safety of your smile, the comfort of your voice, the complete lack of judgment that made me feel like someone truly knew me and loved me anyway…

I told you to choose her. I know it was the right thing to do but it hurts me still, knowing you were packing to leave. You were sitting there, completely vulnerable, ready to choose me- and we could have wrapped each other in love and understanding, and I told you to go back home. I chose misery to avoid the complications of explaining my twisted heart.  Continue reading

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I need my own place

As I sat on my bed crying the other day, my mind drifted into some imaginary place. Damn you Mister Rogers. Thanks to you I ride the trolley to world of make-believe all too often. This time I was pretending I had a place of my own to escape to.

Sometimes I wish I had my very own apartment. There wouldn’t be much in it. My real life is cluttered with knick knacks that preserve all my precious memories. But this fantasy apartment would just have the essentials. The lamps would be there for lighting, instead of because they had been handed down for 40 years. The linens would be perfectly coordinated high thread count delights. There would be one photo album, with only the best snapshots of the moments I most long to go back to instead of 47 scrapbooks falling off the shelf. Continue reading