Between the Heart and Mind

Almost every bone in my body is telling me to trust my gut and tell you how I feel because “you’re different,” and a nice, good guy, and you just might be the one to break down every wall I’ve placed around my heart.  Hell, you’ve already started.  But it’s that small little piece of me that is tearing me apart.  That same small part that says you don’t feel the same and I’m just setting myself up for the inevitable disappointment and heartbreak.  And as much as I try to ignore that part, it keeps coming back–stronger and stronger each time.  So I give into it and mess around; telling myself that this, staying with him tonight is what is going to stop the disappointment and the pain.  If you have someone waiting on the sideline, losing someone you could actually and truly fall for will hurt less, right? Maybe.  And after all, that little bit of doubt isn’t there for no reason.  Some part of me must understand something about us that I have yet to figure out, right?

But he’ll never even come close to you. Because despite what I might tell anyone else, you’ve broken down a lot of walls and I think I’m starting to fall. And I think losing you might be the real downfall.

Things I learned getting over you

Tags

heart, heartbreak, lesson learned, relationships, sad

Don’t ever associate a song with him. It’s just a sure fire way to get your heart broken a million times over; again and again and again. Because every time you hear that song, you’ll think of him. And your heart will drop to your stomach and he’ll make you feel sick all over again…even though he’s gone. And you’ll wonder how he still has this hold on you, even after all this time.

Don’t let him sleep in your bed. You’ll get so used to falling asleep beside him and the smell of his cologne filling your nose, and his gentle breathing lulling you to sleep, that when it’s all over, you won’t be able to sleep through the night. You’ll toss and turn when you finally realize your pillows don’t smell like him anymore, but it’ll be too late. He’ll be long gone, leaving the scent of the cologne on someone else’s pillow at night–while you stare at yours wishing he was still next to you.

Don’t keep the pictures hanging on the wall. They’ll only fuel your frustration, leaving you in a fiery pit of resentment and sadness. Take them down and set fire to all the sadness and hate and confusion and hurt. Let your tears fall one last time before you decide that it’s time to let him go. Let the pictures and pain burn away, and you will rise from their ashes.

And if you let him touch every part of you–body and soul–just remember that it takes time for your skin to regenerate itself. This means that in time, there won’t be an inch of your body he’s tainted with his touch. And although the heart isn’t as easy, there will come a time when it heals from the damage he’s caused.

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If I had to miss you, this is what I’d miss.

Tags

memories, personal, relationship, sex

What do I miss the most about you and me? It’s not the conversation, or the laughter, or the sex.  If I close my eyes, I can still picture it: us in bed, clothes strewn all over the floor, the tv on, but the volume low, the occasional bump or footsteps of your brothers moving around upstairs.  The thing I miss the most is when we were lying in your bed, half awake and half dreaming, when the alcohol is just starting to pull us into a deep sleep.  When we were barely touching but our breathing was in sync and your arm was casually draped over me, your fingers tracing mindless and random circles all over my body.  In a relationship that was purely sex, it’s ironic that of all the things I could miss about being with you, it is one of our most intimate and innocent moments.  I never appreciated the closeness or intimacy we would sometimes share because I was so determined to keep what we were doing void of emotion.  In fact, I know I often pushed you away, reminding you that I hated cuddling, which would only cause you to grab me and trap me next to you…until you started kissing me, and I was secretly relieved that things could stay strictly sex.  I was the one who set the precedent for our relationship, and yet, here I am, missing your touch–in the most innocent ways possible.  What is this hold that you have over me, and why can’t I escape it, even months later?

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