Waiting for You

I’m new here, I just had an interesting week, and wanted somewhere to release my thoughts. And this is my cat, Bobo. He means so much to me, and I thought this picture was perfect for this.

Waiting.

I let her in the house again. The difference in subtleties wasn't enough. you spent time with my family, and my brother and mother both got accustomed to her. They asked when's the next time she would come over, and I said don't know. We don't plan that far ahead, I told them, when our situation had changed. Forever altered, like the stuffed animal I got her. I gave you the stupidest name known to man to give him: Mr. Woofles. I don't think it was creative, but I wanted to give him the name. Just so then when she looked at him, and said his name, she'd think of me. Where the name derived from. I wonder what you'd do now. whether you'd throw him in the closet or just say that you got it for yourself, but you'll be thinking of me when you see him. That was not my intention. I wanted you to think of me because I thought this would go somewhere. This was four days ago.

Did I chase her away? She said no. She said I did everything right, and I doubt it. I have been getting better. For the first time in my life, I feel that I am not a social disaster, freaking out on what to say next. I said strange things before. But last time, He made it difficult. I don't think I was very different from who I am now, but I do feel more comfortable in my skin. Maybe that wasn't visible before, but it is now. And I'm kind, super sweet, and I can be hilarious. I make strange noises that make me look like a fool to make you laugh. That is my humor. Saying witty things on occasion, but not hurting others, instead just myself, when I don't even recognize the pain. That's because it is not pain, it is love. Like if life was lived through onomatopoeia. I am smart when I must, and I have a very interesting story about who I am, and I still wasn't enough. But he was. Again.

There are big differences between this time and the last time. For one, I am a more complete person. I have found more of myself that I did not possess so then I can be happier being me. I am the only person that i will ever be. And my goal was not to be more complete than him. I didn't care. your happiness was the only thing that mattered to me, and through those random days that we'd talk during the better half of a year that we said we'd stay away from each other, I saw that you were happy above all else. And when we'd go to target, or just hang out at my house, I saw you were happy as well. When I'd try to hold the back of your hand, I wouldn’t try to hold the front because I knew you were healing, I'd be able to see you joy in having someone support you so. And healing is such a strong choice to make when life becomes a nightmare.

I am crazy ambitious. Somewhere in my head, I gained the confidence to tell myself "I can do this." Maybe not with writing, but we'll see. I have so much nonsense written in my phone, for sketches, songs, music, business ventures, and even for creating a cartoon show. I truly want to do everything in this life. I don't like sleeping around with strangers that I met the day of. I like building relationships. Somedays I just want company, but if our clothes never come off, I am not going to be hurt. I will not hurt you because I felt owed a sacred part of your body. I'm human. And I know how these little moments can turn to transgressions. And not by experience, but just by living. By breathing, and feeling the air, and using myself as a template of what people want most and that is comfort. That is love, and support, and it doesn't matter how attractive you are, but if you give someone a real person to hold onto, and cherish, and make them feel more complete of a person, then you can find love. I feel as complete of a person as I can be.

And yet, I'm here waiting for you. I'd willingly walk with you straight through my broken front door that can only close well enough to shield from the brutal air when the lock is on. Because I've completed myself, and some people need a little extra help. She told me "Maybe this will only go on for a week, and then that's it. I just need to be proven wrong again." I love her, and value her opinions, but we don't need anything, especially if it brings with it poison that can harm your future self in so many ways. but I'll help her get what she needs. I'll give her the space she needs. No matter how hard it was to hit the send button with tears welling up my eyes saying "Ok, I wish you luck." More time to myself will be good for me.

All my friends always asking me why I’m still there for her, and why she can have this power over me. I always tell them that there is more to life than petty squabbles about guarding my manhood. I am a man. I open jars with hacks that tell me to bang the cap side as flat as I can to release the pressure keeping it closed. I don’t even know how it opens it, but it does. I listen to Melanie Martinez in the car, and wear women’s shoes in a size 9.5 because I can. I tell people when they complement my shoes, "these are woman's shoes" and smile or laugh, and solely because I find its just shoes.

She's a different creature I say. We want the same things, she just might be a little less mature than I am. I don’t believe any of the sayings when it comes to how people should deal with situations. I don't apply "When you love someone let them go, and if they come back, then you were truly meant to be." I think I butchered reciting that back but I don't believe in it's ideals, because we apply ourselves to these mantras when our situations are far more complex than we give it credit. An ex-girlfriend once was told by her uncle, "If he loves you, he wouldn’t want you to move on, because if you he doesn't want to be with you right now, then he doesn't deserve you when he's ready" and then she disappeared. I didn't search her out, so maybe it was easier for her to disappear, and that was not because I didn't care, but because we were too young to know what we wanted. See, I wanted her to instead of waiting for her boyfriend who lives too far away, and we could only see each other once every other week if we’re lucky, to find someone that went to the same school as her. So, she can be happier. Maybe it came from the most insecure part of my mind, but I think it was for the better. She probably found more boyfriends that could see her every day and hopefully buy her flowers or something. She said she wanted to get married, but leaving her waiting would strip her of a lot of her life, and she was younger than me. I wanted her to enjoy her youth. And I understood that early on; that life is never as easy as it should be. And sometimes you must make decisions for others that help them understand how life is so short, and fragile, and there is no point in wasting it on some people. It didn't matter what I wanted, and soon I forgot about her. Our situation was more complex than that advice given to her by her uncle. Because only we know what was truly going on. And now, it's different. I don't feel like a martyr this time.

But when does my confidence turn into some type of Icarian fable about flying too close to the sun? When do I stop thinking my situation is different than hers, when I am waiting for her in the cold, as she is waiting for him? The differences in our situations are getting subtler, and our eyes are getting coarse from the tears. He was stressed out, is why he did it. He broke her heart because he was stressed out. Doesn’t that cause more stress? It sure seems like it. But she goes back to him just like I’d stand at my door waiting or her again. With my forehead pressed against the stained glass of my door, or the cold window that isn’t sealed properly. The frostbite will heal, but what if I miss out on this opportunity. What if she leaves my life? And I never get to be with the girls I find so perfect, that I literally block out other people when I’m around her. I’m oblivious except when I’m driving. Then I’m super conscious, more than I usually am. And the reason is because if anything were to happen to this girl, I’d be completely destroyed. I’d fall into a puddle of mush and since young I’ve been very overprotective of people I really care about, and how quick it was that I saw her in the same light. It’s the consequence of growing up how I did. Life and death are so close to each other, and wasting time, fleeting moments, and noteworthy people are the only things that are cemented into my brain. Telling me "please enjoy yourself out there, but please be yourself, Derek." And I am completely taken by her. But she’s completely taken by him. And so, I wait for my chance. I’d wait for her from afar, but I will still do it. And I don’t know if this is sad to admit this, but I don’t feel that she made this choice completely out of her own. She hasn't healed yet, and I can't blame her for her choice. I feel that you must evaluate who is truly a person you’d truly envision yourself growing older with, and completely empathize where they are coming from. And I imagine a life with her. But I don’t think that makes me different from other people who fall for someone's idea over and over again. But I feel different it. I really want to believe that I am a martyr, but when does that equate into me being just a sad-sack of a shmuck who is in a relationship with a girl who just doesn’t know it yet? I think we passed that line when she crossed the threshold of my front door.

I just want it to be over. This insufferable waiting. For both of us. Waiting for buses that never come, and being stuck in the brutal, winter air of southside Chicago.