Here is my confession to you, J
A story:
The day you left me waiting at my own art show, you broke my heart. You knew that I liked you more than you liked me, and you took advantage of that. You said you'd come. You said it to me and you said it to Ben, so there I stood waiting. I was sweaty and nervous and I waited for your arrival but it didn't come. You asked me how it went and I left you on open.
But somehow I let it go because I was naive and I wanted you to like me. So when you said you owe me, I believed you. The next week we walked around the park in the hot sun. I remember you touched my back and I thought I lost all the air in my lungs. We drove, separately of course, to the library where the painting I did for you was hung. There was a party going on in the exhibit but you told me, "you were here first" and pointed to the piece. I was so nervous. I went home and it had only been an hour and I had sacrificed an afternoon with my family for you and all you gave me was half a smile.
I didn't talk to you for two years. That girl my best friend saw you with, you told me she was just a friend. But when I left for college she was just your girlfriend then. I looked at your pictures for weeks until I couldn't let myself cling to you any longer.
Yet two years went by and I've kissed more boys than I remember. Too drunk to remember their names, and looking for affection I kissed them. How easy it was to kiss them, yet I still can't seem to kiss you.
When that girl went from your girlfriend to actually just a friend, I hesitated. I waited. And when I decided I didn't care if you'd respond, I snapped you. And how pleased you were excited me.
You held the door for me, the first time I saw you in two years. You walked out the door first and you held it for me, on the tiny, icy step in the snow and somehow I knew in that moment.
I showed you my bowl and I had you lingering then. "you smoke!?" you asked me. I hadn't but I told you yes. So I said you'd have to teach me and when you said you were on your way to get me, I took a shot of *****. Too nervous to go out to your car without some liquid courage. I remember the car was hot and so was I with anxiety. There were moments of quiet and awkwardness, maybe because I was high I didn't mind them. This car ride happened twice more.
Then I didn't see you for three months. Back to our lives in separate states at separate colleges. I thought you would drift away and not be interested any longer but that didn't happen.
I saw you then, three months later and you pushed back our plans. For your sisters, I was okay with it, I just am emotional, I don't like waiting for a man. It gave me flashbacks, of two years ago, waiting next to a painting just for you, and you don't come. This time you did come. "I'll get you. I just left" Bold actions that I appreciated. This was the best, we drove and talked and talked some more. And then the song came on, "talk too much" and the lyrics told me what I needed to do. I tingled and stared at you. I could feel the blood in my lips, the gravitational pull. But how could I reach you in the drivers seat? Do I reach across and grip your face? Is that what you want? I knew that you were listening to the song that told you my thoughts, "I want to come put your lips on mine, and shut you up". And yet I didn't. I wanted to so badly, and I didn't do it. I delayed when you drove me home, I thought you might reach across to me and grip my face, but you didn't. Here I wait, two weeks out from seeing you once again and I dream of kissing you each night. I can see your lips in my head. They taunt me.
A story not yet finished. To be continued...