You would think I’d have learned my lesson by now. And yet, the words echo back at me like the etched prison on my shoulders: “When you gonna learn?” Maybe when I got the tattoo I somehow trapped myself into a life of dwelling repetition. A life filled with the ignorance of my past and continuance of misguided actions that refuse to acknowledge the history. Much like the misguided wisdom of engaging in war, yet it is unavoidable and always inevitable.
I am not sure when I stopped loving him and started loving another. I am not sure at the exact moment that I began to let my mind wander to the point of no return.
And honestly, if someone were to ask me to define it – that being love I am not even sure I could do that. Besides who really knows if and when you are in love for sure anyways? Is it real or just clouded by misjudgment, passion and desire?
All I know is that he is in my thoughts almost constantly-- maybe even obsessively so. I think about him when I dream: he is there, watching me with those dark, mysterious, tempting eyes. He is there in the evening and the night… I wonder where he is, what he is doing. What he is thinking. I suppose you could say I need to stop. There is a point when I must acknowledge the simple fact that it would never work out. But fuck – I really wish that it could.
I sit here dwelling over and over on all the memories we have shared, in only a year. Wisdom would be to forget them, no matter how precious – and move on. He tells me to move on, he says we must part ways. But why is it I can’t stop thinking about it? Why can’t I stop thinking about us?
no subject
You would think I’d have learned my lesson by now. And yet, the words echo back at me like the etched prison on my shoulders: “When you gonna learn?” Maybe when I got the tattoo I somehow trapped myself into a life of dwelling repetition. A life filled with the ignorance of my past and continuance of misguided actions that refuse to acknowledge the history. Much like the misguided wisdom of engaging in war, yet it is unavoidable and always inevitable.
I am not sure when I stopped loving him and started loving another. I am not sure at the exact moment that I began to let my mind wander to the point of no return.
And honestly, if someone were to ask me to define it – that being love I am not even sure I could do that. Besides who really knows if and when you are in love for sure anyways? Is it real or just clouded by misjudgment, passion and desire?
All I know is that he is in my thoughts almost constantly-- maybe even obsessively so. I think about him when I dream: he is there, watching me with those dark, mysterious, tempting eyes. He is there in the evening and the night… I wonder where he is, what he is doing. What he is thinking. I suppose you could say I need to stop. There is a point when I must acknowledge the simple fact that it would never work out. But fuck – I really wish that it could.
I sit here dwelling over and over on all the memories we have shared, in only a year. Wisdom would be to forget them, no matter how precious – and move on. He tells me to move on, he says we must part ways. But why is it I can’t stop thinking about it? Why can’t I stop thinking about us?