here’s that thing again, that achy obnoxious beautiful thing that nips at my ankles and runs its hands through my hair.
“him,” it says. “you’re thinking about him again.”
i know i am, terrible little voice, there’s really no need to rub it in. it’s amazing how much space is taken up by the figurative you. what did i do with all of my time before you came around? not much, apparently, because i cannot go two steps without that little voice nagging at me, pulling on my earlobes, trying to capture my attention.
this feels so juvenile and silly. i catch myself getting frustrated and swoony almost simultaneously as i try to navigate these murky waters. there is no map to follow, there are no one’s footsteps to guide me. we’re paving the road as we walk on it, two writers and a blank page.
i cleaned my entire apartment today. got down on my knees and scrubbed the floor and everything, in an effort to remember what it was like to be focused on something that is not you. cleaning is not the best distraction, it turns out, because this post is a direct result of my trying to force my attention elsewhere. this song, that joke, oh my god remember the time we (insert crazy and wonderful thing here)…
it’s a terrible affliction, and yet is somehow so cozy and comfortable. i have you in my head as i lip sync into the mirror while applying that red lipstick you love, as i brush my teeth and pay my bills.
“you must be exhausted,” said the lame guy at a bar a few weeks ago while drunkenly lurching in my general direction. “oh yeah? why’s that?” i asked, unimpressed.
“because, “ he slurred, “you’ve been running around in my head all day.”
i have a few problems with this. first of all: i had never met this fine specimen before and therefore could not have possibly have been taking up residence in his thoughts. secondly, PULL IT TOGETHER, creepy bar guy. that line isn’t going to work on anyone, primarily because of who you are, but also, notably, because it doesn’t make sense.
unfortunately for all us, creepy bar guy may have been onto something, though, because although i am loathe to admit it, the sentiment holds. you, sweet and figurative, must be exhausted. you must be exhausted, you gorgeous foolish man, because you’ve been running around in my head all day.