This is the part where I have to stop worrying that this makes me self-important, or that you'll judge me, and just tell you, that for the sake of caution, and not getting hauled off to the looney bin; I need to invest in a bluetooth.
You see, I just got my hearbroken. And yes, if you've been reading, it's the same vaguely alluded to once considered boy of my dreams, and now, lately, literally, nightmares. You see, I've never actually come out and said it, because really, it's too hard to blog about a boy sometimes.
Because sometimes this particular boy had flame-red eyelashes that made you forget what you were saying, and who plucked your eyebrows for you when your couldn't see, so you wouldn't have to look like a bush man. Because sometimes, this boy liked to break your heart. Sometimes, he was too scared to love you, and kept a back-up, just in case.
Boys, in case you were wondering, keeping backups is not fair.
So sometimes I need some help, when I make it to campus, when I'm walking by the places I saw them together, and let myself be convinced it was innocent, it was happenstance, when I am pretty sure I've become epileptic and asthmatic (because my lungs are supposed to work and whole body should do what I tell it to, because it shouldn't shake liek this), when I remember that Thanksgiving break won't be in Portland, or when she stands outside our philosophy class on the day of the midterm just to see him; when these things happen, when I have to leave the midterm because there is not enough oxygen getting to my brain, and why is my face all wet; when I'm just trying to make it home from the library through the landmine of everything I can't stop seeing,
I imagine.
It's very similar to the dreams I've had every night this week.
I walk through an elaborate discovery of her, of him. Together. I am classy (sort of). I look them in the eye. I ennumerate their wrongs, and if I am asleep and have no control, they kiss and he does the same thing he did in real life, and I am banished.
But when I'm walking, when I'm awake, I get to pick.
I am majestic and eloquent.
And I don't cry.
This is how I get through.
But sometimes, I cope too hard. And I might slip a few words out loud, as though it were a song stuck in my head.
The Ballad of The Chastised Infidels.
And people passing look bewildered, they take a few steps away.
So I was thinking, if I just had a bluetooth in my ear, they wouldn't know I was broken.
They would just think I was an obnoxious bluetooth person with a need to publicly air her laundry.
And I was thinking I could be okay with that.
I imagine.
It's very similar to the dreams I've had every night this week.
I walk through an elaborate discovery of her, of him. Together. I am classy (sort of). I look them in the eye. I ennumerate their wrongs, and if I am asleep and have no control, they kiss and he does the same thing he did in real life, and I am banished.
But when I'm walking, when I'm awake, I get to pick.
I am majestic and eloquent.
And I don't cry.
This is how I get through.
But sometimes, I cope too hard. And I might slip a few words out loud, as though it were a song stuck in my head.
The Ballad of The Chastised Infidels.
And people passing look bewildered, they take a few steps away.
So I was thinking, if I just had a bluetooth in my ear, they wouldn't know I was broken.
They would just think I was an obnoxious bluetooth person with a need to publicly air her laundry.
And I was thinking I could be okay with that.
So I can rant in peace, you know?
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