Winter
It has been snowing for the past few days, on and off. My winter blues are kicking in, and nothing seems to be quite in place anymore. I hear the disjointed wailings of my soul, she doesn't quite know what is right, but she feels that this is wrong. She is right.
I miss him, as awful as it is to feel that for a man who infuriated me most of the time, made me rage some of the time, treated me poorly occasionally and generally acted sweet and kind and lovely enough to negate all of that bad. But yet here I am, unable to study and wishing he'd drop by for a visit, wishing I could call and explain it all away, wishing he'd change his silly stubborn mind. He is so proud. I want us to be friends.
My nights all blend together, time flies and yet I cannot keep track of how many days I spend in twenty-four hours.
Last night I walked up St. Laurent, fat snowflakes drifting through the red Christmas lights, swirling around the trees that line the sidewalks. Snow like that is stunning. It was cold, my new piercing ached in the wind. The bright storefronts, the cars, the lines of well-dressed South Shore girls lining up for pretentious clubs, it was all what I was used to. I walked slower than usual, ignoring the leers from men in cars, lost in my mind. I gazed into our bar, seeing nothing but a sea of unfamiliar faces, straining to catch a glimpse of his form, bent over the pool tables. I can still smile to see in my mind's eye, the reflection of the table lights off his cheekbones. it is the one image that stands out, from the first day we met, and played pool even though I warned him I was terrible. That and his voice. The night he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I was the one freaking out, panicked but touched as we spooned on my bed. Holding hands, his breath on my neck, surrounded by the smell of my shampoo and cigarettes. But he regressed, and I was drawn out, tricked into coming through my shell of pain and self-preservation.
And even as I say "Never Again" I know, that one smile and I would repeat it all. Its worth all the pain to smile with someone for a while.
I miss him, as awful as it is to feel that for a man who infuriated me most of the time, made me rage some of the time, treated me poorly occasionally and generally acted sweet and kind and lovely enough to negate all of that bad. But yet here I am, unable to study and wishing he'd drop by for a visit, wishing I could call and explain it all away, wishing he'd change his silly stubborn mind. He is so proud. I want us to be friends.
My nights all blend together, time flies and yet I cannot keep track of how many days I spend in twenty-four hours.
Last night I walked up St. Laurent, fat snowflakes drifting through the red Christmas lights, swirling around the trees that line the sidewalks. Snow like that is stunning. It was cold, my new piercing ached in the wind. The bright storefronts, the cars, the lines of well-dressed South Shore girls lining up for pretentious clubs, it was all what I was used to. I walked slower than usual, ignoring the leers from men in cars, lost in my mind. I gazed into our bar, seeing nothing but a sea of unfamiliar faces, straining to catch a glimpse of his form, bent over the pool tables. I can still smile to see in my mind's eye, the reflection of the table lights off his cheekbones. it is the one image that stands out, from the first day we met, and played pool even though I warned him I was terrible. That and his voice. The night he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I was the one freaking out, panicked but touched as we spooned on my bed. Holding hands, his breath on my neck, surrounded by the smell of my shampoo and cigarettes. But he regressed, and I was drawn out, tricked into coming through my shell of pain and self-preservation.
And even as I say "Never Again" I know, that one smile and I would repeat it all. Its worth all the pain to smile with someone for a while.
posted by Care @ 6:39 p.m.
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