there isn't an option for fucking confused.

it's interesting to me how people filter in and out of your life. i shouldn't label it as convenience, because it's rarely convenient to me when it happens. in fact, it generally happens at the most inconvenient time - when i think that i'm moving on and carrying on and doing pretty well. and then they and their baggage arrive at my doorstep and i realize 1) that i have zero interest in them or their bullshit, 2) i can entertain them and their crap for a short period of time, like a weekend house guest, or 3) i've actually been wanting to see them (the bullshit is just a bonus, like fat free cool whip) and it's energy i don't have to expend to track them down and express interest in rekindling a friendship/relationship/what-the-fuck-ever.



so here i am, sort of minding my own business - at least, as much as i ever do - and here it comes. person of type number 3 and their baggage. and instead of the blame and the hurt that i expect to receive, it's nothing like that. it's everything i've been wanting to hear for a long, long time. except i know i'm not supposed to want to hear it - i know because i'm told this by everyone that more logical and knowledgeable than i - but i can't help it. it sounds good. and it feels good. it feels right. i don't know if it is - i don't know what it is, really. i don't know if it's permanent, i don't know if it will be here next week or even tomorrow. but in all this time, i've been telling myself that i don't want it and i don't need it and i've been lying. to myself and everyone else. because deep down, i've wanted it all along.



and so we talked. via text. then on the phone. and finally in person. not timely, obviously. and it was awkward. it was so awkward and so painful. but so seemingly necessary, for both of us. it was bound to happen, you know? so i told the story, i told it from beginning to end - i didn't leave out any of the details. and i listened to his version and his apology. and i cried. i cried hard. for a long time, i just couldn't speak. and i finally let him hold me and it felt so good, there was just something so right about it, i can't explain it. i can't put it into words.



i don't know where this leaves me. it's not the beginning of anything but it's not the end of anything, either. and i think we all knew that. i just liked to pretend that i was over it because it didn't hurt as much that way.



i'm just afraid that if i don't try i'll always wonder.



i'm sorry to disappoint you.