I'm going insane all over again.
And I can't stand my heart in my throat or the fluid perched precariously on my eyelashes, daring me to blink.
It's that time of year when everything comes together, but it's not happening yet.
You're not happening yet.
At least, not to me.
And she's happening to someone else when a year ago she was happening to me, back when everything made sense.
Back when she made sense.

Spring is a time for rejuvenation.
But the only rejuvenation is to old memories, bringing them back to life with a ferocity equating my love for her (once upon a time).

As I allow you to look at me with those big, heartwarming eyes, I  know you know I'm melting.
I know that look you're giving me is only to get what you want, and oh, baby, it's working so well.
I only want, well, everything from you, but my spine is curving and I'll take something, anything.
But it appears you're just as flighty as I am, Liebling.
And even though your actions have spoken louder than your words, (on both sides of your confusing fence) I still remember what you told me, or rather how you said goodnight.
The look you gave me when I found out was more than likely misinterpreted on my part.
Wishful thinking.
But it appeared close to remorse, nearing nausea.
Which were echos of the pangs I felt.

"Sometimes you've got to fold before you're found out."

"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Forgiving me. It couldn't have been easy."
Oh you have no idea.
It took many agonizing nights, chock-full of curses and spittle.
It took many fierce poems, dripping with blood.
It took bawling to songs that applied way too much.
It took bawling over someone else to fully accept facts that you weren't the worst person any longer.
It took the pains of others to get through my thick skull that you weren't the enemy any more.

I wonder if it’s my “morals”, my long-standing beliefs getting in the way, the ones we don’t see eye-to-eye on.
The ones that are the only ones we severely disagree on.
Except maybe God, but that's best saved for another day.
I wonder if it's discomfort whenever I talk of Mai or Heather, and how I crave the bitter tastes they've each given me.
The same tastes I ache for when I'm alone in the dead of the night without any sort of repose.
I wonder if it's the far-off look in my eyes when my mind wanders off, bleeding internally at the thoughts that poke holes in my steel protections.
The memories that shake me right down to my glacial core.
I wonder if it's my smile when I actually mean the glimmer that reaches the corners of my eyes.
The twinkle that is caused by Heather's similar grin or Maisie's heart-wrenching touch.
And I wonder if it's just me, and all my broken bits and pieces, that lead you to make dire decisions and drive you to make vapid actions.

I'm perpetually far away.
You know it when you see the look in my eyes, the gleam signaling I'm elsewhere.
I'm perpetually in places that you'll either never see or never be with me.
You feel it in your gut, you know I'm gone.
I'm perpetually absent, and I have been for a while now.
You know that I'll never be yours, in any way.
I'm perpetually lost inside my own head.
You know that you'll never see the hidden trenches, the hidden worlds torn apart by wars waged long before you.
I'm perpetually too far away and you know that'll always be true.

I've reached the point where not everyone looks like you.
But there's still the looks and voices that remind me.
Now, not everything I do is to appease the fleeting love you held.
But I still find myself saying certain phrases and entertaining ideas that would've made you happy, once upon a time.
I've stopped yearning for you every second, or even every day.
Although, the thought of your touch still makes me shiver.

It amazes me how, two weeks ago, I set you aside.
I didn't want a deja vu of her, with you.
I didn't want the feeling of your lips and your hand in mine to corrupt my days.
I pushed you away from the emotional part of me.
I tried not to flirt with you as much as I had been.
I tried to file you in perpetual friend zone.
I tried to ignore when you smiled and I would smile because of it.
I tried to ignore when you would play with my hair, when you would touch me.
I almost succeeded.
I almost got over you.
I almost managed to convince myself you would never feel the same.
Until you told me that it wasn't impossible.
Until you told me I could have a chance.
Until you told me I was wrong.
But now I don't know how to act.
It's a secret.
I can't tell.
I don't want to ruin you, so I'll keep it to myself.
But now I want the feeling of your hand in mine back.
I forgot how gratifying that felt.
I forgot how reciprocated feelings, even if they're confusing, felt.