A Sort of Thank You

Hey you,

I could make eloquent speeches declaring my undying love for you in a dozen different ways, I wouldn’t even ask you to love me back, because unrequited love just gives me more to write about. I could take that look you give me and give it a dozen meanings. I could pretend that your facetiousness covers up the fact that you love me and are loathe to admit it. I could tell you that I am in love with the way you make me feel, with you and everything that you are (because your douchiness doesn’t detract from your hotness). I could, I really could, but I won’t. I could do a lot of things, but all I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for walking into my life, for making me smile, for making me feel something I’d forgotten. Thank you for bringing some of my words to life.Thank you for being you.

Love (or something like it),
Timony xoxoxox

Not Quite What I Was Hoping For

Early morning walk. That’s what I need. Need to get out of my head. Out of this ‘funk’, as a good friend of mine likes to refer to my current, rather melancholic and decidedly melodramatic, state. No more pacing. The park. That’s where I’ll go. The flowers are finally out, the prettiness will make me smile again. Nothing bad there. No one to bump into. No conversation to be made. Plan? Plan.

Sunshine. Barely a cloud in the in the sky. Caffeine. Nicotine. Lana del Ray. Pretty things. Perfection. No need to worry. No more… Shit. Him. The last person I need to see. With the girlfriend, no less. Fucking perfect. Shit shit shit. They’re coming straight at me. I can’t avoid them. Shit. Okay. Breathe. Smile. In. Out. Smile. Keep smiling. Avoid prolonged eye contact… Oh, those eyes. Don’t look at her. She’s gorgeous. Don’t look. Keep walking.

”Hey kid.” Kid?! Two days ago it was ‘gorgeous’! ”How are you?” 
How am I? Let me think. Slightly heartbroken. Definitely somewhat bruised in the ego department. Oh, and now I have ‘fucking inadequate’ to add to that list. Smile. ”I’m good, you?”
”Great, thanks.” Oh, that smile. Still makes me melt. ”It was good seeing you. Take care, yeah?” Oh, that gaze. Weak at the knees. Don’t think about it. Don’t don’t don’t. You always knew it would be like this. You always knew.

Sunshine. More caffeine. More nicotine. Time for breakfast wine.

Love, Or Something Like It

Someone - no, not someone, that someone, him, the one I’ll never really understand and I’ll definitely never forget - he once asked me what love is. I couldn’t answer him then, mostly because I never really knew but I think I have a pretty good answer now. I can almost imagine how that conversation would go if it was to happen now. It wouldn’t be pleasant  but then hearing the truth rarely is, is it?

“Love is like me. Love is fickle, impatient and demanding. Ungrateful and petulant. Love is vain. Conceited. Arrogant.Wholly joyous and utterly melancholic. Love is selfish. Far more than you could begin to imagine, and yet love gives more of itself than you could believe. Love is graceful, clumsy, beautiful but uglier than sin. Love makes everything worthwhile, and you waste yourself while giving it everything it asks for. Love gets its claws into you and doesn’t let go until you’re desperate and dying. Love enjoys teasing you, making promises it intends to, but will never, keep. Love makes you wait and watches while you wither with a smile on it’s face. Love loves making you feel guilty for the crimes it commits against you. Love is fleeting. It will make your dreams come true and then up and disappear when you think you’re in paradise. Love is a bitch, a vile, sadistic bitch. And you will fall hard, and all the while love will taunt and twist you into something you cannot recognise. That, my dear, is what love is.”

“Is that what you really think? Is that what you’ll do to me?”

“Haven’t I already?”

“I think so.”

“I did love you once, you know, differently. Before love became just another way to get I want.”

 

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