vinylgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- time to mince my words He says all the right things and his timing is impeccable. He fills in all the gaps from my past relationships with ease as if it is inate. So what is wrong with me? I sat there with both hands clasped around my pint with my fingers caressing the ridges on the glass. Then I would cross my arms and lean my elbows on the table. Defensive. As I stepped out of his car on our way to my front door, I prayed he would not try and kiss me tonight. When he did on my cheek, I could not say my goodbye quickly enough or get my key into the lock so I could escape into the safety of my home. He asked about my preference of privacy in my life and I got my back up. "It's just hard for me to be back here because no matter what I do, it is always right there in front of me." I wasn't lying about that since I ran into a good friend of his on the bus the other day. No one rides the bus here and that is what makes it great - the anonymity. Instead I turned my ipod off and offered him the seat beside me, but he refused allowing me the space. Our conversation was light with the usual pleasantries and then he asked the inevitable question: are there any boys in your life? The question surprised me in the sense we didn't usually discuss the topic, but there was a part of me that savoured it. I had dreamt of the moment I would declare to one of my ex's friends that I was dating someone new and wonderful. It fit right into the fantasy, the one I had planned out in my mind preparing for my return home this summer, but instead I said it was complicated. It's the truth, but I could have come up with a much better lie. He laughed with my awkward self-deprecation and we returned to pleasantries. When he got off at his stop, I hoped he would relay the information to my ex. I can only dream his facial expression would be blank with a hint of jealousy. But why do I (still) care? It's been three years now. The other day a friend I knew in first year mentioned upon seeing a new photo of me that I looked grown-up and mature, but more importantly different. I don't think my heart progressed at the same rate. I still care very much what he and his friends think of me. The fact is: it probably wasn't meant to be. Yet, there is a lingering hope that if he was... Is that really why I want to run this time? I don't know, but it is a good excuse to flesh out. It is always easier to blame someone else for our own misgivings. I am starting to wonder if maybe I just don't want myself to be happy for some reason. As if possibly making the fatal mistake with my first love leaves me with this cross to bear? Although that is a little melodramatic even for me. Ironically, he asked my advice on how to handle his sister dating a lowlife, looking for an explantion. Maybe he knew subconciously I was an expert. All I want is the comfort of someone's arms and yet I am screaming like a clausterphobic in a closet desperate to breathe fresh air. What is wrong with me? I am still standing at the door of the airplane with my hands clasped to the frame trying to decide if I can jump or not.
11:22 p.m. - 05/09/2006 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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