Reality
30 Apr
Real is approaching me.
I’m thinking to myself as if I’m my own therapist,
“The only reason you are here is to determine the extent of his jerkiness. You need to actively look out for it in order to move past him. A year is a long time to routinely think of a person who has offered you so little of themselves.”
He is sitting down, he is flashing me a grin. He is talking.
I am not paying attention because I am watching all my good intentions fly out of my head.I manically try to catch them. But I find that I’m catching myself instead. It feels good to be sitting directly opposite him. Even if his attention is not on me entirely. Even if his gaze doesn’t seem to reach mine. It just feels good.
But now he’s casually mentioned his girlfriend and I’m excusing myself to go find those floating intentions and manually insert them back into my head.
Its absolutely exhausting being a good person.
***
We’re getting up, we’re walking apart–his bicycle between us–I am almost hit by a car.
“Oops! You very nearly lost me there!” I am saying; giggling.
He is looking at me and he is more serious than I thought he could be and he replies,
“I very nearly did.”
I want that to have a double meaning. But I know it doesn’t.
Its absolutely exhausting being a romantic.
***
We’re standing at the corner. Distant.
He is saying that he hates good byes.
I am saying that I had a good time.
“We should do it again.”
“We should.”
He is leaning forward to give me a kiss on each cheek. I am stopping him.
“No, don’t kiss me. I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch it.”
He is grabbing my hand.
Here we are–almost mirror images–holding hands and smiling at each other.
Then we’re both walking away; both not looking back.
Its absolutely exhausting being in my head; thinking like a writer.
***
As a love story, it has so much potential.
As a reality, it has none.
