Sunday, October 25, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
plotless
"I don't know what to say to you, but I know I want to talk to you."
I once read somewhere that you don't just find another soul by accident. That, implying fate and disregarding coincidental sequences. But I never quite believe the things I read. Just the same as how I never read the things I believe in. For the most part, I don't believe in anything. This is something that took me a long time to understand about myself. I don't believe in things. I have nothing to prove and I want nothing to gain. I relinquish explanations into another plane of existence that doesn't contaminate with mine. Because of this, I shrug a lot. Because of this, I am stagnant a lot. But this isn't all too much about myself anyway.
I once read somewhere that you don't just find another soul by accident. There are reasons. There are purposes. There are intentions. There's a destination and a resolution. I haven't quite figured out what they are and when I should encounter them. I do know, however, that this has the last track same as the sound of a car crash.
"I don't want to do this right now, I just want to see you."
The sound of a car crash repeats. The sound of rim on gravel while the neighborhood peers out their curtains. The sound of gagging. The dim, dopey lights. The groaning of anxiety.
We talked about how we didn't quite fit into each other's worlds. Like jamming towels in your already full luggage last minute. She said I love you while she laid on my lap and I drove us home. She said it like she's been saying it for years. Like a sentimental salutation over the phone. I said it back like I was on one knee. "You didn't have to say my last name," she smiled. And I knew she liked the ring of it.
"When do you think this will end?" she'd ask. "We can't keep doing this." I never answer because we both know we don't want the answer. But I'll kiss her anyway. And she tastes like always. Not like a promise or a swear. Just a comforting always. Like taking in a breath. I haven't loved in a while, I realize.
This will not end well. Our unwillingness to sacrifice each other's worlds is the sound of this crash. Maybe it won't even be a crash. Maybe it'll be the sound of fading out. I'll take this happiness for now. I'll love as much as I can now. Because she feels damn good. And I forgot how good feels to be loved this sweetly. If it was all up to me, I'd gamble everything. In the mean time, I'll just drown out the sound of the end with this pounding in my chest.
We talked about how we didn't quite fit into each other's worlds. Like jamming towels in your already full luggage last minute. She said I love you while she laid on my lap and I drove us home. She said it like she's been saying it for years. Like a sentimental salutation over the phone. I said it back like I was on one knee. "You didn't have to say my last name," she smiled. And I knew she liked the ring of it.
"When do you think this will end?" she'd ask. "We can't keep doing this." I never answer because we both know we don't want the answer. But I'll kiss her anyway. And she tastes like always. Not like a promise or a swear. Just a comforting always. Like taking in a breath. I haven't loved in a while, I realize.
This will not end well. Our unwillingness to sacrifice each other's worlds is the sound of this crash. Maybe it won't even be a crash. Maybe it'll be the sound of fading out. I'll take this happiness for now. I'll love as much as I can now. Because she feels damn good. And I forgot how good feels to be loved this sweetly. If it was all up to me, I'd gamble everything. In the mean time, I'll just drown out the sound of the end with this pounding in my chest.
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