You
I went home for a month to get away from you. To get away from the way you make me feel. That fuzzy and sickening feeling I get when we are together. Here I am six weeks to the day I left. What has changed?I've gone on so many long runs at night, that exertive distraction from the longing to call you. I run long. I run far. I run for my life. I run from what might be. I find no peace of mind when I lie down to close my eyes. Sleep is not the welcomed oblivion it once was.
Looking back nine weeks ago, I wish to the day that I hadn't met you. P has been my constant companion in light of it all. But she can only do so much as I go through my withdrawal. My friends, chipping in for distraction, look on helplessly.
What was the point of me going home when all we ever did then was call and message each other everyday? So what's to become of the plans we made? To cook? To travel? To do everything?
I didn't ask for you. So the question you should ask yourself is why would you want me to stay? Shutting you out should bring some peace of mind when all I fucking do is think of you.
The one benefit of a post like this, is coming back months from now and laughing at my sillyness. For I do not intend to regret my decision.
posted by Teutoburg @ 9:54 PM
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