Tuesday, January 03, 2006

ashes to dust to falling

Trouble sleeping. Sometimes the lonliest feeling is when you're laying next to someone in bed. Just finished. And now laying. My eyes keep flipping open to the ceiling, my legs is wrapped around the comforter and I'm bothered.

I am the call back girl. I'm sure this rings familiar for many women. Notorious for hearing from old flames, I get indiscriminate calls weeks, months, years later. My pattern thus far: meet boy then sparks which leads to fires which leads to burn outs. As soon as I think all is extinguished, there's an attempt to rekindle. Because I'm too much of a pussy to say it over the phone as we catch up on life in a four minutes, I have moved on. The fire is out. Ashes.

Why couldn't you have been there when you were there, when I was there. Why does it always take men a gap of time or distance to reckon with their feelings. I'm not opposed to the gap. Time apart does not necessarily mean things are inactive. In fact, it could be the most productive way time is spent for two people. Thoughts. Clarity. Heart. Pain. Longing. However, at my rate, it's leading me to sit on my fire escape for a little self introspection. Why has it been: meet boy, hang out with boy, separate from boy, then voicemail.

What about me let you let go? Why weren't you there when I was there? The irony, they can finally start to see you when you're gone. I want to be with someone who doesn't need rupture to start feeling. It's not about mr. right, it's about the right feeling. 'I want ridiculous, inconvinient, consuming, can't live without each other love'. All else will be worked out. But that knot in the gut, my heart still hops a little when he enters the room feeling is what will sustain it though the years, through dates, through the night.

I know I'm overreacting, they were calling just to say 'Hello...How's New York...let's get together when you come home for the holidays.' I don't know that I would make that call. No one wants to put an expiration on feelings but I figure the post break-up I still want you sentiment has perished if you didn't get one of those mass emails titled 'new contact' in your inbox. So, if you have to call my family's house to get my 917 number, turn around. Do not excite my mother like that, I haven't brought a boy home since high-school and that was to pick me up for the Homecoming Dance.

I wonder if the one I lay next to will become just another recorded message. Break ups are awful and they take a while to recover from so when I am finally able to dust myself off again, I'm ready to fall again. In another words, I can't rekindle old flames because I'm out there, ready for a new burn.