It's official. I'm a glutton for punishment
I log off, depressed, exhausted, and defeated. My MP3's are about to cycle into I Will Survive which always has a way of perking someone up against their will. In defiance (and against that voice in my head that tells me he's not alone) I dial his number, he answers, we exchange pleasant hellos and he sounds perfectly normal so I can't ascertain what the situation is. Already on the borderline of tears, I ask the question I already know the answer to.
You have company?
I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called.
No, It's all ri--
-- flash --
Why do I go out of my way to not let him know I have company?
Why do I protect him so much?
The emotion I've been holding inside all night pours out.
"Oh Chrissy," he reassures me tenderly.
We speak of the movies we saw today. I saw Billy Elliot, he saw Chocolat. I start crying again since Chocolat had romantic themes and I had been hoping to see it with him. He insists it was just a comedy. I don't know why I'm suddenly so upset about things, I tell him. He reminds me that we had discussed hanging out today, which I vaguely remember. I don't remember the part where he tells me that it was up to me to call him.
I know he's in his living room since he tells me he loves me.
And now it's the moment I've been avoiding all night...crawling into an empty bed
. My teddy bear
, Veronica, is comforting, but she's not what I need right now. What I want is a warm body
to embrace me, someone to make love
to, someone to kiss me goodnight and hold me while I cry. Inbetween pickles
and pork chops
I told yossarian
not even 12 hours ago that I was enjoying being single again, and I sincerely meant it. It's been over 5 years since I had to stand on my own two feet without anyone to fall back on, and it's a good feeling to be working towards self-reliance
again. But, I miss him. And I know we're going to find ourselves in each others arms yet again in the coming months.
The rain is still falling.
The rain echoes inside of me.
Raindrops dry on my face.
Tonight is not a night to be alone...
but he's not alone.
Drained, the pen rests, and I fall asleep.