the heart wants what it wants

The bed’s getting cold and you’re not here
The future that we hold is so unclear
But I’m not alive until you call
And I’ll bet the odds against it all

I’m trying to build boundaries, rules and roads to keep me safe, or as safe as I can be at this point. We’re on the edge and I keep making excuses for him and I wonder what it would take for me to just walk away. I sat talking with Ally and Reilly tonight for three hours about everything, from boys to transgender people to God, and I talked to him too, over text. I think the root of my hurt and all the negative feelings associated with it is that he wasn’t thinking about us, he was thinking about himself. I was thinking about us, approached him graduating from a place of compromise and being willing to make sacrifices. It would be different, feel different, if he had done the same. But we can’t go back in time, can’t redo it, and I think the only chance of me feeling okay in this again is if he goes out of his way to prove that he cares and he wants this. I need to beĀ shown, not just told. And it’ll probably take time.

But I’d love it if we made it.


I’m sitting in class and I can smell him on my skin and on my clothes. He doesn’t shower as much as he should, doesn’t do a lot of things, but damn he smells good. I’m sitting in class and I could cry because despite what my father says about us being too young and this not being real, I love him more than I ever thought possible. Terrified of losing him, and that’s how you get lost in love. Maybe I’ve forgotten myself in the last few months, gotten swept away in loving him and being what he needs and forgetting who I am who I want to be what I need. I don’t need a promise of forever but maybe forever is what I want. Then again, I’m twenty years young and what the fuck do I know about a love that lasts a lifetime?

Then again, who does?

Not my mother and father, not my friends’ parents, everyone has problems and there is no perfect relationship. Sometimes I feel like mine is pretty damn close but I’ve got blinders on, rose colored glasses that strip me of the strength to choose what he can so easily, to walk away. We talked for hours last night, alternating between avoiding eye contact and piercing each other’s souls with our gaze. Lots of tears, sad faces, short hitched breaths. He needs a year, he says, maybe less maybe more. I’m going away next year, off to distant places to get off on distant people so maybe it’s for the best. We both can have half of what we want but it’s hard to have it all. I want him, he says he wants me. But being open is hard, long distance is hard, a breakup is hard but at least it doesn’t drag it out. I am terrified of losing him.

But maybe he is just a moment, despite the word “always” inked across my skin.