i read something the other day. it was one of those things that really sticks with you harder than stepping in gum on the sidewalk and trying unsuccessfully to shake your foot from the gooey mess. i couldn’t pull my thoughts away from how often this must happen every day; how heart wrenching the truth of this matter must be; how often these thoughts circle in the minds of the guilty.
how many people in this world are with the person they want to be with? i mean one hundred percent, head, feet, eyeballs, wrists, hair, and every beat of their heart into it. i don’t mean hey yeah he’s cool and all so i’ll date him but really i miss this other dude and if he texted me right now, bye bye new boyfriend. i read somewhere that an astounding percentage of 34. 34 percentage of our society would pick their own partner out of any other human in the world. {except from ryan gosling or whatever victoria secret model guys are obsessed with these days.} meaning 66 percent of people you see casually strolling the parks and sidewalks, fingers linked, laughing at the pigeon that just flew into a nearby window, maybe love that person whose hand they’re holding, but wish they were someone different. maybe someone from a different part in their life. whether that be 6 months ago or 6 years ago. a flame that has yet to burn out. this percentage could be totally fake or a complete bs made up number from wherever i read this, and to some extent i reeeeeeeally hope it is a false accusation. that literally breaks my heart, but it doesn’t mean i haven’t been guilty of committing this heart crime before either.
i guess i mentally broke it down into segments. i finely chopped this into pieces and tried to step into both shoes of this. what if i were with someone and the whole time while i’m thinking we were chasing the butterflies, rainbow ponies, and white tulips of love, he was missing (and loving from a distance) another girl. kenny chesney whyyyyyyy did you release somewhere with you? dude that song is the epitome of what i’m typing. a guy can go out and meet a girl, any girl, and she seems interesting and she’s fun and charming and he’s actually laughing at her jokes. she teases as she sips her vodka cranberry out of that tiny black straw. the two go home together, but the next morning he’s reminded she was only a temporary relief and the memory of whoever still consumes his heart comes flood back into his thoughts. one step forward, eighty two steps back. but he continues the pattern anyway due to loneliness. it happens every day, y'all.
the part in the notebook where the lady that ryan gosling does his thing with, the one who has the super whiney voice says it best. “it’s like when you look at me, you don’t even see me...look, a woman knows when a man looks into her eyes and sees someone else.” STAB. BURN. SLASH. seriously just cut my heart out of my chest, stomp on it a few times with your dirty shoe, pick it up, go to the top floor of the empire state building, and chunk it off the side so it will splat on the ground. that would hurt less than finding out my eyes were viewed as someone else’s when we locked them together as i lay in a yellow flower super ugly robe {or whatever the hell she was wearing.}
and then i looked at it from the other perspective. what if i were with someone, but my thoughts always automatically bled to someone from the past. when they knocked on my door, i wished i’d open it up to another face. when they sent a sweet text message, i wished the name on the top of my iPhone screen was different. when i wished there would come a day a past memory wouldn’t stand in the way of my heart and this new person. and then that thought of me actually doing this like depressed the shit out of me, so i can’t even really elaborate without wanting to break up with my imaginary boyfriend i’ve created solely for this activity. blog fail.
what i’m trying to say is i get it. actually i have done it years and years ago and my conscience couldn’t stand it and i vowed never to again. i feel like the first step of breaking up with someone is entertaining the idea. when you stop and you’re like “shit. i don’t like my boyfriend.” – that’s a preeeetty good indication you shouldn’t be with the kid. but wait, i'm comfortable? you're with him because your bored and because it's safe. nothing about love should be safe. love should thrill your every nerve. you know when your heart is ready to love and when you can look at others and not want to see someone else. it may take some time and that’s okay. i genuinely think you’ll know when your heart is free. speaking from experience here, there will be no music or whistles or chimes or alarms, but i can guarantee, you’ll know when it's weighless. and you'll just smile and hold onto that freedom. the feeling is nothing short of unforgettable. and if you have not gotten there yet, break it off with these maybe’s and sorta’s and ehh i don’t know if you’re it or not’s.
i will preach until i’m blue in the face that no woman should be someone else’s part-time or sometime or down-time or spare time. so why don’t you do the same for this guy and not waste any more his time.
but more importantly, your time.
but more importantly, your time.
xo
-A
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