I'm feeling kind of strange today. Maybe it's because my insomnia is back, full force and I barely slept a wink all night. Maybe it's because I've been talking to Mario again and every time I do manage to get to sleep, all I see is his face. It's happening all over again. His indecision is my broken heart. His fickle nature is my desire for him to just make up his mind, once and for all. His inner coward is my inner need to be touched by the hand of love. His girlfriend is my stupidity. I should know better. He should know better.
Talking to him last night I was reminded of the intimate moments we used to share. Like the way we held hands, accidentally, because it only felt right, and we barely noticed it because it was so natural. The way he would touch my hair and caress my cheek and how I would trace his entire face with only my fingers, eyes closed.
Now it's like he doesn't even exist. He's the idea of someone I used to care about in my head. But he does exist, and so do his mind games.
I never wanted to be "the other woman." But here I am.
But wait, it gets even better!
His girlfriend will be joining me at good ol' MVCC in the fall. At least we'll have something in common. We both love the same damn boy.
He says he thinks of me everyday. He says he was shaking after our suprise encounter. But yet he claims to not have those feelings for me anymore.
Why is it sometimes the most obvious things are apparent to the ones who want to see them, and completely masked and disregarded by those who don't?
I wish he'd make up his mind.
And I guess it doesn't help that when I board that plane Tuesday, I wish it were going to Florida instead.
His having his cake and eating it too is my false hope.
Enough.
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