It's Raining Somewhere

I wonder if something in me is broken?

Well there are a lot of things that are broken.

I can't always understand my emotions.

I take part in activities that are self-destructive.

I'm never confident in my relationship.

It doesn't feel like my partner loves me, even though they say they do. 

Yet, I still feel like this is just a comfortable arrangement for them. Every time I bring it up they say its not like that and they'll try to do things differently so that I don't feel that way, but it feels like nothing ever happens.

That's another thing broken about me; I'm too needy.

I just... ugh. I don't even really know how to explain my frustrations. We went on a date yesterday. I planned everything they were just along for the ride. Good for them because they hate making decisions, but the entire time it just felt like they were humoring me. We dressed up nicely for this and I tried to make it romantic, just to bring some life back into our relationship, but sigh. I feel like I failed. 

I feel like I'm constantly failing in this relationship. It feels like they aren't attracted to me anymore. They only do it with me just to keep up pretenses. They find me boring and not very stimulating to talk to.

It feels like I was the prototype relationship and now they need to find someone similar to me, but just smarter and better looking. Cause I feel like I'm just constantly disappointing them. And I know I should talk with them about it, but I've brought up the whole 'It doesn't feel like you love me' a few times and promises are made but are never kept.

Which just cements the facts that this is just a comfy arrangement.

So I wonder every time they come home if today will be the day they tell me, 'I've found someone else who makes me feel more love than I ever did for you. I'm leaving you for them.'

I know I can't just let these thoughts sit and simmer. I know I have to bring it up with them again, but I'm just tired of the 'ok, things will change,' but then they never do.

I keep wondering if I keep doing things for them that could make them happy, will they start to reciprocate, but its been months and honestly I don't even think they've noticed.

It might just be easier to go through the stages of grief and end this relationship. 

Better sooner rather than later, eh? 

Even that joke makes me want to cry.

I just feel like crying, but tears won't fall.

Still, it's raining somewhere.

 

Pool Cue

You hold the cue with elegance and confidence as you walk up to the table.

Your eyes focused on the table before you, deciding. 

It only takes a second, but you aim your cue, carefully line up your shot and lightly hit the cue ball.

To some it would seem like its not strong enough of a shot, but you smirk and your eyes light up as the intended ball falls into the pocket without even touching the tables edge. A clean shot, one that sparks joy, but it only lasts a second as once more your mind races looking at the table.

You choose your next target. Its a bit of a trickier shot, but you focus and nimbly line up the shot, concentrated on getting just the right angle. Another light tap and the cue ball just grazes your target, but it's enough and it falls with a hard thunk into a pocket. 

There's only one ball left and you smile lightly to yourself enjoying the game before you, the challenge this has created and the satisfaction it brings you. 

Your eyes harden as you prepare to line up your shot. You think about it for a moment, which angle would bring you to success before you nod, your decision made. Cue straight and steady, fingers poised, you make the hit.

In the end, the win doesn't matter to you.

As the entire time you play your eyes show the calculations running through your head and you wear a satisfied smirk on your face as you watch your opponent play.

Dead Flowers

The spark is gone. 

It's still warm, comfortable and inviting, but the spark is gone.

There's no giddiness, no butterflies, honestly there's barely time.

The love is still there, but the passion and romance has long since faded away.

It's inevitable with relationships and at some point this is when some people step away. Searching for a new spark, but I'm sitting at a damp fire pit with my flit and rock trying to get anything going. Trying to get any kind of spark to appear again.

It's cold.

I try to surprise them with chocolates, little love notes, make their favorite dinner and doing all the chores, so that they can have a free evening. They never notice though. 

Sometimes it feels like I'm shouting into a void. 

At those times I start to draw back, stop putting in effort and that's when I hear something on the other side. It's quiet, barely a whisper, but I hear it and think 'They must have noticed!'

My efforts start up once again and the cycle continues. 

I'm getting tired of this cycle. 

It makes me wonder if I'm putting too much effort into this relationship. Or are my expectations too high? Would it kill them to have a date night even once a month? To hug me once a day and maybe even a peck on the cheek?

I'm tired of this cycle.

So instead, I slip back into a toxic habit.

Reading about relationships that have passion, love and comfort. Close my eyes and imagine for the night that I was in that world. It's a habit I'll have to break again.

But for just one night, I want to love and feel loved.

Late

Its Late.

The mantra rings through me as I go about my day, waiting. 

Waiting and waiting.

Body tense. 

 

All I can think is, its Late. 

 

I can't focus on the work in front of me. 

Eyes looking at nothing in the distance.

My body in flight or fight mode.

But there's nowhere to flee.  

 

The threat is inside me.

 

Distractions are all I have left.

And waiting. 

There's no hope. 

If it's taken from me, I don't know if I'd survive. 

So I wait, wishing I could speak with someone.

But it's too soon. It's not that late.

 

The mouth speaks and now two are waiting. 

 

Waiting and waiting and waiting. 

Until something can be done. 

Plans have been made, but it's too soon to act.

 

So we wait.

 

One gives in and checks.

It's too early, but maybe it will help. 

Only a little.

It's still too early. 

 

And we wait.

 

Finally, finally hope slithers into us.

We relax a little.

Breaths come out easier.

But we still wait.

 

It's too soon to know.

So we wait.

Goodbye Lovely Boy, Sweet Dreams

It's Friday evening, March 17. 

American St. Patrick's Day.

Inside of a 'Happiness is Pets' puppy store is a family of three playing with a small black and white puppy. The mother with bright red hair is on the phone speaking with her husband, having a conversation they've had multiple times. She sighs and hands the phone over to her daughter and son who plead with their father, begging and promising the world over just so they could take home this small black puppy.Multiple minutes of begging and promises pass, promises that the father knows will not be kept, but he relents and finally agrees.

And the small puppy is quickly brought back to his new home.

That puppies name is now:

Oreo.

He lives a happy life with this family of four. The kids always play with him, sneeze with him whenever he sneezes. So Oreo learns that when he's happy he should sneeze, because it brings a smile on the kids face as they also sneeze back. There's a big yard to play in and sometimes they take him for walks, but Oreo doesn't mind too much. He's a sitting dog, jumping up on the back if the couch and observing the living area as his family bustles about. He is content.

One day the dad leaves, he doesn't know why, but every once in a while he comes back. The family is filled with joy and he jumps and barks demanding treats and pets. He may not always get treats but he is never lacking in pets.

Then one day the kids are gone too and it's just him and mom. It's quiet and lonely in this giant house now. Oreo mostly sleeps, wondering where his family has gone. If they left him, but one day he's taken by mom. They both travel somewhere, he remembers sleeping for a really long time and waking up alone, but mom quickly finds him as he barks his heart out. 

Soon he's barking from joy though as he see's his entire family. They're in a new home, but that doesn't matter to him because everyone is here.

Oreo likes this new home. There is a sensible garden, cats to bark at, new dogs to meet and best of all he is never alone. Grandmother is always home with him, either watching tv or working in the garden. She's a little clumsy and sometimes doesn't notice Oreo, but she's kind, feeding him tasty scraps and letting him out whenever he wants.

Life is good for Oreo he's happy and taken care off. Maybe he doesn't have as much energy as he used to, he's an old boy with more gray hairs than black. His favorite things to do now are sleep, eat and beg for treats. He always appreciates scratches though, wagging his stubby tail in appreciation. 

He wakes up one morning, feeling hungry for the first time in a couple days. Oreo gets some cheese from the father, gets pets from his favorite human - the brother and sits by the garden window, observing the street. It's a nice day, clear sky, not much of a chill and the sun is shinning bright.

It's a good time for a nice long nap. 

Camping Chair

It's got four, flexible metal legs.
It's made from a sturdy plastic material.

It's a bright purple with grey accents.

It is a compact, camping chair.

And it's something that's helping our relationship.

 

Aster had a new game to play and he wanted me to watch, so I brought out one of our camping chairs. They're pretty comfortable and don't take up much room, so I didn't have to put it away every night. The game was watched, time was shared and enjoyed, eventually the game ended, but the chair stayed.

 

When we weren't living together Aster would come over and spend the weekend, we'd sit on the couch together and just do our own thing. It's something I greatly missed when we moved in together, always seated on the opposite sides of the room. 

 

Now the chair has found a place. I seat it next to Aster and either watch him play something or do my own thing. Or sometimes he brings the chair out. And it feels like we're back in my room, teenagers just enjoying each others company.

I feel like I need those small moments more and more in my life.

Self-Inflicted Drought

I want to hug you, but I also don't.

I want your hug, your touch, your comfort

but I can't.

 

I can't touch you because I'm afraid.

I fear your touch.

It brings joy, happiness, love and comfort,

but with it, it also takes.

 

 When the touch is gone, so is the comfort.

When days span to weeks, my weakness grows,

so I crave your touch,

but I'm also afraid.

 

I can't ask for a hug because I don't know when the next one will be.

I can't hope for a kiss, because now is not the time.

 

So instead I crave your touch, hoping and dreading when it will happen again,

because then for one blissful moment, as your arms wrap around me and you give a content sigh.

 

I'm reminded that this is what I love, 

miss and crave.

 

You and your touch.

 

So instead I wait for you, trying to withstand this drought,

trying to ignore my wants.

 

Now is not the time.

 

Leave him alone.

 

He has more important things on his mind,

so I wait.

 

Withstanding a drought I could easily end, 

but for some reason refuse.

Instead I take comfort in one constant.

 Your shirt, in our bed.

 

The only thing that helps me suffer through my self-inflicted drought.