hardwood floors

the other day, i was lying on my back, on the cool hardwood floor.

i had just gotten done working out, doing those 50 daily crunches, when a lucidity came over me.

it was almost seductive in its gasp. I laid there, rubbing one leg up and down the other, listening to the sweet voice of Sarah McLachlan, as she sang of pain, of torture, of longing and of obsession.

every now and then i would moan silently. images raced through my head of various different lovers, of various different things, that would all collide into one.

i realized, upon understanding some things that were needed to be understood, that my problem wasn’t necessarily that i was screwed up or really, sick with a disease. my problem, was that i kept falling in love with the same person over and over again, only to be bitterly disappointed to find out that he wasn’t where i wanted him to be.

all that anguish, all that pain, all that energy, given over and over again to all of my past lovers. while i sneered at them when they said they loved me. how could they?

i had tried to love them as they were. i had tried to make them more than what they were. i had tried to change them into this ideal that kept floating in my head.

and i obviously failed.

once, i almost settled.

how could anyone love me like danny did? how could anyone appreciate all my gifts, my charms, my beauty and my mind like he did?

problem was, he didn’t. he expected me to give up everything. to not dream the night away. to not expect more out of life. to not want to experience the world with a gleam in my eye and a smile upon my lips.

once, not so long ago, i went to the one person, i felt, who had understood me. my purpose was to ask him for a meeting. our colliding together kept getting closer and closer, and more fiery to the touch. i had to feel him in the flesh, i had to suckle his juices dry, i had to know.

before i settled.

he always understood, this person did. always knew where i was coming from, always knew how my mind worked. i had come to him, to ask for one thing: to meet. Nearly a year of irc/phone/email wasn’t cutting it anymore. nearly a year of living while separate but yet parallel lives together. how could i not want this? how could he not want this?

the question proved argumentative. “your only good for computer’s and sex” he said. how angry i was at those words. “then leave me alone i replied. go far far away and don’t come back. don’t find me on irc. just. leave. me. alone.”. he thought i was being over dramatic (which is more often than not, true) and childish. how could i be childish? how could i explain to him what HE meant to me. how could i tell him that no matter who i was fucking/dating/sleeping, that it never compared to him? that while the men i went out with, were not, simply him? that i lied to them and myself because, rational took over and i never expected to have him?

how do you talk to someone and tell them you love them, only to have them throw it back in your face. saying “how can i believe you!? look at what you did! look at all your writings, look at what you told me!”.

how can you compete with that? how bitter can you feel, almost pre-judged based on your past experiences. how can i believe you?

the conversation left me angry. bitter pill to swallow, the truth. in many ways, he was right. very right. how COULD he believe me, and how could i believe myself?