Love is…

I’m so in love with you today. Well, the memory of you. My heart feels filled with anticipation and fear. I just think of your name and I feel numb. I don’t even want you to react. I don’t even care about what you would say to that. I don’t need it. Because I’m floating in my imagination. How powerful is that? How wonderful is that. My hands shaking as I type this, I feel like I can’t breathe. Not in a bad way, I’m amazed by the way the thoughts of touching your hair paralyzes my body. I’m currently sitting on my bathroom floor unable to move because I thought of loving you. Hmm. It’s crazy I carry that everyday. This feeling every single day and sometimes it makes me.. it never makes me mad. I never regret the feeling or wish it away. I believe it will matriculate into whatever it will be. Wondering will I ever love like this again? Or am I destined to have loved and lost? It’s okay I don’t want answers. But my body numbs and my mind wonders and I dance in the memory, the past, of what my heart feels for you. And I want to be happy for you. I want to be your friend forever, but fighting the urges to press my lips against back of your neck 3 times, before falling asleep, lingers in my mind. I need more time.. but today the thoughts of you came rushing over me, as if the gates I’ve constructed to store my love for you, just fell apart. I wonder if I feel less strong today. Or if I should even tell you these things? Truth of the matter is, I feel equally as strong when I’m storing away those urges. Either way they consist of you. Today, today they flow rapidly thru my veins pumping thoughts to my mind. They have completely enabled my movement and I give in to it. It makes me smile. It makes me hungry for more. How completely you engulf me, astounds me. I love it. It empowers me. It makes me grit my teeth and profess my joy with sheer determination. Regardless. Today I’m so in love. 

Love is…


Ranting and Raving in July 

It’s July. It hasn’t dawned on me until today, or rather a few days ago, that I’m totally over it. Everyday it’s like something new develops in my brain and it connects to the gut feeling, that drives my days. It occurs to me that I’m simply exhausted by the entire situation. I find myself playing clichè saying in my head, “nothing worth having comes easy” and I think how worth having this all is…I don’t connect a thought. I stop the thought process in its tracks with my distracted and unwilling heart. So, I actually don’t know how this one plays out. It’s difficult to be begin to look ahead when all I know to do is notice what’s right in front of my face. But let’s talk about that. How many times can someone tell you they don’t want you for you to be able to comprehend it? Not many you would assume, but I probably hear it every other day, in a roundabout way. Foolish as it may sound, I continue on to the next door once the rejection or disappointment sits in. Bread crumbs. She leaves me little bread crumbs and it satisfies my desire to hunt. The naked shots and the I love yous, feed my search for existence far beyond the limitations she has created. She admits to have creating this mess, but is completed puzzled at its evolution. I think I fail every single test. And I bitch about my defeats, which only sets the next trail up for failure. She says things that purposely set me off, and wonders why I’m mad about it. I wonder why I’m mad about it. We fight all day, I see a million snaps of her with him. Him. We fight about him all the time as if he is more than just a man. A boy. It’s like I come to the battle all tattled and bruised and he stand but a god before me. Beaten by a mere boy. She’d be extremely defensive if she heard me call her almighty, a boy. He is a boy. Yet, he has everything I think I want. Can’t know for certain though, it isn’t available for me to want. But what about those nudes.. Do I want it then? Is it mine to have then? She said today, “I’m trying to be your friend.” Oh man, with friends like these… Blows my mind, 2 days later I can’t be mad as fuck about the very detailed and unrelated answer she’s gives me about how awesome her romantic life is.. It’s almost as if she has completely forgot or has no regards for the time we spent together. 4 days ago she expressed in great detail all the ways she loves “Gail” via text.. But today I’m bat shit crazy because I was angry about her “happy relationship..” I’m losing my fucking mind over this.. I know for certain I’m not suffering from some type of stroke, so really I must be losing my mind. Because it doesn’t add up. She seems to think that I am the one that stirs shit for soup, that I am the one making everything such a big deal. She’s a child. And I’m stuck trying to figure out where I may have left my fucking mind. It still hurts. I don’t care who you are. It’s annoying that she’s flaunts it so much and I have to say nothing. If I choose to voice my opinion, literally I am the only one that’s thinking it. Well, in our two-way communication. I start the fight and end the fight because I’m apparently fighting with myself. She gives me all the materials and I just go full circle with my reasoning. 
I woke this morning so mad, to a reply to a text she had already replied to mind you, that ignited the fight. At 9am, I kid you not, 

She said, “I don’t want to fight at 9am” 

After,  I had woke and replied calmly, “I sent that message last night” she said “I know I was replying.”

Again? Did you read it over and decide you had more to say, or did you just decide to start a fight and make me look crazy? Furious! I was pissed. I am still fuming from it actually. This entire thing is a direct result of that conversation. Which made me realize that I’m over it. I just struggle with how to do it. I have this rule. I call it, “Rule 86” I have no idea why because there are no other numbers to the rules.. 
Rule 86 is when the relationship or situation is over you delete them from your life. Everything! Social media, friend circle, phone.. Everything. If you work with them you need to consider changing jobs. I’m serious about that, because hell is surely to come after a breakup with a work connection. So you delete everything and pretend they don’t exist. Something that can be the bitch move though, like you weren’t strong enough to just keep it pushing. But in some instances, you aren’t strong enough. Like you’ll see their car driving down the road and you consider running them off the road, and fleeing the country. It’s fine. We all have those ones that were completely batty over. So to save yourself the embarrassment, rule 86 them. Just free yourself from them completely. So you aren’t up late at night checking there statuses. Change your coffee shop, your grocery store. Change your life. It’s better. Just skip the heart break and run the fuck away. I mean it’s nice to continue to get your donuts at the same place you have for years, but they know that, they will find away to be there or ruin your day. So just leave it. I would tell you to move away but I mean it depends on how deep your in. If you guys live together. Yeah, just skip town, change your number, and dye your hair. No, don’t do that. You’re not that weak. 
Ranting and Raving in July 

A Thought Shared

I didn’t always get it. I still don’t get it. There are facets of your mind.. Of your imagination, that I can only hope to discover. I don’t always understand .. And the biggest lesson I can say that I’ve learn, is that it’s okay not to understand. I look back at some of our precious time together and I ponder in amazement, of your beautiful mind.
I crave to know the contents, of this mind. I think of how your body reacts to these things that circulate inside your head. I, at first, thought the most beautiful thing about you, the most desirable place inside of you, was your heart. I saw a glimpse of it beating and decided that’s where I’ll start…


That’s where I belong.
Then the startling realization that it is not your heart that beats the rhythm your soul dances to, it is your mind. Your thoughts, your intellect, tell your heart what beat to play, to have your soul begin to sway. And I can tell you that I haven’t a clue of what your mind will say… 

And I forget to wait for my invitation. Why you do the things you do, why you hurt yourself to protect others.. Why you sacrifice… are things that I’ve learned it’s okay to not understand. 

It is your mind that intrigues me. Thinking.. Always thinking. Always trying to discover. You learn from everything and often times say nothing, as the knowledge fills your souls desire and I sit, but in awe, of the process. And I wonder why I ever wanted to belong any other part of you.. How your words when spoken fall right out of your mouth, and into my hungry mind. For you to think of me, well, means so much more than the words I love you could ever mean to a soul. For you to have well thoughts of me, means more than either of us dare to imagine…but I bet you have already. And it’s really not okay for me not to understand. Because it’s the only place my mind will go.. It’s the only thing that feeds me. 

“What is on Layla’s mind?”

My stomach growls with anticipation. My mind makes excuses for failing to understand, and I, myself, get lost in the thoughts I use to protect my heart’s right to beat if I think it to.

But I think of you and it beats, and the rhythm scares my mind as it beats louder and louder.. I wonder if I’m scared of the sound and I wonder how to stop it… But it pounds steadily, loudly, and proudly. What a thought of you does to me..I may never understand. Everything goes away. There are no sounds. There are no thoughts. Just the beating and the dancing. That’s when hope comes in. And when I can’t explain why hope joins the fun.. That’s when the faith comes in.. And when I have the tiniest bit of doubt that’s where the love comes in..

And I swept away. 
A Thought Shared 

The Winter It Didn’t Snow

Sometimes we would sleep all day. Mainly because we stayed up all night having sex. A good day for us, or just any Saturday or Sunday, would consist of waking up whenever we wanted. Sometimes we would wake up and lie in bed talking for hours, often about something one of us saw on our phones. After laying around until 3pm, we would get hungry enough to always settle on pizza. We would put clothes found of the floor on our bodies and turn to some random non-cable tv channel and eat, pass the bong and talk about whatever show we watched. 

We wouldn’t listen to anything happening on the the tv, but do the entire dialog ourselves. As if we were the sportscasters, reporting on an intense game. We would do that to every show, commercial, that we watched.

We would do that in real life. We shared so many laughs. We would share so many thoughts. We’d spend an entire day doing that. Then have sex til morning. Regardless of what we had to do the next day. That was always optional. No matter the obligation. Call in to work? Because you’ll only have 2 hours of sleep. I already did, she’d reply. Then we would sleep all day. 
I guess that’s something I treasure most. Those were our best days. It was winter. But it never snowed. Our time was similar.. It was a relationship but it never bloomed. We wait for snow. We want it. We hate it. But we miss it. 
The Winter It Didn’t Snow 

That’s unfortunate 

I want that feeling. That raging pulsating feeling of wanting someone as badly as they want you. That feeling of letting go of all thoughts and letting your body communicate. I get excited in my blood just thinking about it. 
I’ve been wondering why dating wasn’t working and why spending time with her wasn’t doing anything to ignite my fire. I just couldn’t put my feeling on it. Lately, I’m thinking about everything. Fantasizing and hitting reality. The back and forth. She helps that reality quite a bit. Annoyingly so. I toss myself between getting rid of it and holding on so much. Idk. I don’t really care. I mean I haven’t really cared about the solution any of this time. 
Here’s the thing. I’ve been wondering why I haven’t been horny. I think back to my 4 month hiatus this time last year, there she enters. But then I was pretty convinced that I was punishing myself for doing that awful thing with that lady. Any way I slice that, it was still a bad call…But today, I haven’t done anything awful. I’ve been growing. And that’s when it hit me. I just want more from a connection. There’s nothing wrong with that. I chase her around because when I think of a connection that’s earth shattering. I think of her and I. I think of me picking her up, holding her thighs, her arms wrapped around my neck and us just breathing in syndication, sucking oxygen from the other. 
So when do I get that feeling back? I want it be her so badly, but can obviously say having her is worst than wanting her. I’m coming out of this obsession and I can see her walk on the ground and I’m not impressed.

She would’ve fell eventually, wouldn’t she? 

I just want that feeling. And she is the first thing I can think of to connect. 

That’s unfortunate. 

Trying not to fall apart 

I go through these weird phases of encouragement. I cheer my decisions on and confidently tell myself it’s all going to work out. I wonder when I became satisfied with being unhappy. Was it something so long ago, that shaped my acceptance of less than? Less than anything remotely connected to my idea of joy. Regardless, accepting is what I do. “Oh, paycheck short! That’s fine I don’t care to eat everyday.” I never really accepted failure and now it seems like the expected outcome, fail. 
This love thing has really got ahold of me. 
Not much matters if I’m not mattering to her. Typing that sentence made me feel pathetic. Yet, it’s the only sentence that makes any sense. Torturous our growing and secure friendship. As it builds, I find myself standing crippled and accepting. Her head on my shoulders as we loosely hug goodbye. I remember when we used to make out for all my neighbors to see.. Today, while talking to a co-worker I scrolled through my pictures and smiled at the memories that accompanied them. I felt invoked to share my gleeful position with her, “thanks” she says. Why am I the only one that cares about it? She said, I was too important to not be in her life. 



Lucky her.

I’m left unsatisfied. Smiling like a fool, at the photos that show us laughing and carrying on. I would typically send the photo to her so she could share in my joy, but that typically results in a party of one. 

I tried to talk to her about it today. Share an intellectual conversation, about love and the lack of logic. Though the conversation had depth, the words “I love him” bounce off my consciousness and numbed my soul. I thought to myself. “Don’t fall apart!” Tears filled my eyes and I choked on every word that could come to mind. “Yea I hear you.” I replied.

I did hear her. I always hear her, and I never care to change my reaction. On days like this, I find myself questioning my own confidence…feeling rather less than. It never softens, her approach, blunt and honest truth. Always. I need it. Maybe one time I’ll ask and accept the answer and move on. Painful. It’s all very painful as I work a job that I hate, and is less than. Live a life that I did not choose and love someone that doesn’t love me back. She never changes. Well, she changed from the words written on my wall of love and joy to…not at all. 

She has poisoned my entire existence. And I embellish the devastation. I noticed that when I look at her, her face looks different to me, I can’t smell her anymore. I am far too afraid to touch her. We hug with loose arms and I wonder for how long. She drops arms as I am still clinched around her. What do I do now? Why is it so easy to tell me, that she loves someone else and in that same breathe exclaim, “I’m not going to push you away, fuck that.” 

What gives her the audacity? Me. I allow it. I don’t know what to do without it. At some point I made her my entire life, and during that time she gathered a much better sense of her love for another. I’m so incredibly sad and disappointed with my behavior. 



I’ve continued to lose focus and now I can’t begin to find it. I wish I had some good news to displace the bad, but I’m trying not to fall apart. 

Known and Unknown

Well… These words come out of her mouth now. These tears fall from her face, and I am none-the-wiser. She has probably said a total of 6 words in 5 days. Pertaining. Precaution would be look ahead and notice any dangers. What’s the opposite of that? Because that’s what I doing, probably. I feel like I should be scared. I feel like I should be worried. I know I should be pissed. I’m a little pissed. I am. Then I’m like what the fuck? How can someone be so drenched in confusion, yet so calm? I am not even worried about it. I tried to explain it to my friend, and I couldn’t form sentences correctly. I didn’t have examples. I didn’t use any of my famous metaphor techniques. I just sounded like a fucking idiot. I paced. I don’t pace, who does that? And I can’t talk to her about it. We don’t have to apparently.

The other night she came over, we cooked dinner, well she cooked. I sat there reading to her. (She cooked a dish that’s traditionally popular for her. Meat and potatoes. From what I can gather, it’s obviously a meat and potatoes dish, but it’s more like a soup with some specific Mexican seasoning.) Once dinner was completed, she made our plates; she does that. She always makes my plate and hers. She always ask what I want drink before she sits down. She used to tell me, in the beginning, how traditionally the women serve the men. Not that I’m the man, but in our situation I would be. A few days ago, I gave her shit because she hasn’t been serving me or even cooking for that matter. I told her, “You tricked me!” and she laughed from her belly.

Sometimes I worry about what I am saying to her, careful not to piss her off. Like she hates the word “bitch”, that’s a no-no in this house. But it’s like one of my favorite words to say, so I struggle with that often. She hates that word. It’s cute. I mean she gets pretty mad about it, but it’s cute when she’s mad. Even when she’s like thinking about punching me in the face, it is still cute. They always say, don’t laugh at a woman when she’s mad, but it’s just so stinking cute, that I can’t help but laugh. One time I laughed so much that I had to pull the car over and apologize. She was pretty pissy the rest of the night. I can’t say I’ll work on that because it’s my favorite. There’s these little things about her that I can never fully put into words especially, when trying to explain it to other people. And it’s weird. Especially, when she is the only thing I talk about.

So back to the story. We watched “Fifty Shades of Grey” and ate dinner. We enjoy watching movies together and this time she didn’t fall asleep before it ended. However, when it ended things went from causal to intense, with no words spoken. I can tell you what I was thinking, but I couldn’t begin to describe how she was feeling. I thought, ‘well the movie is over now, now I have to figure out whether or not she is staying.’ I said nothing. I placed my forehead against hers and tried to come up with the words to ask her to stay. I felt sad because it was a decision that was not mine to make, one that could not go favorably for me. I felt sad because she could leave me, and I did not want her to do that. But I couldn’t find the words. I began to cry. I didn’t know where the tears came from but I wanted her to know that I was emotionally connected to the question I was about to ask. I rubbed my wet cheek against her nose then her cheek. Only, to feel that her cheek had been moisten by her tears. I cried harder. I felt my chest expand in a search for air, as all I could do was hold my breath to keep from weeping. She kissed my eyelid, then my forehead. Her wet lips from the dripping tears, against my forehead sent chills through my spinal cord. We sat there. We said nothing. I could barely see her eyes, as they were so filed with tears. I could barely open mine. I began to feel angry. Why is she crying? What’s so tough for her? I sat straight up. She clinched on to me, and started to speak out loud, yet so softly. “What are you doing to me, Gail?” she said with her head pressed again my left shoulder, her arms wrapped around my arm, wiping her tears on my shirt shelve. I remember the way she said my name, upset me. Sometimes the tone of her voice changes to my ears. Sometimes it’s like coming from her soul and it’s a soft angelic sound that travels through my body like blood. She continues, “I don’t know how to not love you and I’m scared. You scare me.” I sat there, like I am sitting here now. Virtually, in the same spot, I have nothing to say. I had nothing to say. Her eyes completely closed from the tears that now drip, down her chin. She ran her hand across the back of my head, before tossing it in the air, with frustration…desperation. I can’t watch her crumble. I can’t be the reason for the crumble. I wipe her tears, and I take her head and cuff it in my bicep. I have nothing to say, still. I tell her not to be scared. That I was there for her. I mean… I needed to be reassuring. I need to be supportive. Yet, I am not the one that made it such a mess. She says things but doesn’t give explanations. Just words. Statements really. She could be with him right now. I don’t know, because I don’t ask. I always assume, because she doesn’t lie. She will tell the truth rather it hurts or not. I don’t want to know, if it’s going to hurt. So, I assume the worst all the time. She is the bad guy in all my scenarios because I am way too chicken shit to ask. The past tells me that, she doesn’t hesitate to tell the truth, even when not provoked. So, if I am thinking she’s lying next to him kissing right now, though she spent all night telling me how much she loved kissing me, so be it. Much better than…well fuck that it’s not better. It’s not okay. I feel sorry for her. So I don’t need to make it any worse. I know what I want. I know how to get it, I know how to make it succeed. She has none of those answers, between the known and the unknown, so I feel sorry for her. That doesn’t mean I have to like it. Because I don’t like it. I hate it, actually. I just don’t have to make it worse.

I met her dad. I was afraid of that meeting. I couldn’t really picture how it would go. She speaks so honestly and respectfully about him. I know this man’s soul from the stories she tells. It’s always out of random when she decides to tell me something so passionately, terrifically “real”. But I have never met him. This particular day, he was expecting his 6th child with his new wife. There had been some complications, so Layla was understandably nervous about it. I offered to come up to the hospital just to kind of take everyone’s mind off things. I actually just was worried. Thinking back, I don’t know why I asked. But I asked. And she said, “If you want,” I told her that I would just hang out in the waiting room, but she sent me the floor and room number. I walked in there like I belonged. Her dad was on the phone so the first 15 seconds were weird. The mother-to-be hooked up to machines, the lights out. Once he got off the phone. I stood up, I looked him dead in his eye, and I shook his hand. I said, “Hi! I’m Gail.” He said in a whisper, “Hey, Danny.” Phew. Once the handshake concluded, I could feel myself entering my body, again. Ha. Nervous doesn’t nearly explain how I felt. I was calm though, because what’s the worst that could happen. We sat down and we chatted about California. His voice was so soft but yet confident. I remember thinking, “I can hardly him, but I know exactly what he is saying,” I was paying that much attention, and you could tell he appreciated that. I am lucky that our interaction came on the cuffs of a much more pressing matter, and a joyous one. I am also lucky it was short-lived. Turns out he liked me. Said, I was respectable and seem intelligent. Layla made sure to mention, that she confirmed my intelligence. She knows how I feel about that. That makes me feel like I am a superhero, as pathetic as that sounds. She speaks with such authority in regards to him. The most important person in her life, and he thinks that we should stick together because he, “knows we will get far in life.” What bar did I set for myself? Yikes. Ha.

I joke because that’s all I want to do. I get caught up in the cheer-leading and guiding role that I forget to be a lover. I hold up her jackets, so she can slide her arms in. That’s what I do for her. She waits in front of doors, until I open it. It is my honor. I say I forget the lover role, because it’s not my role. It belongs to someone else. Best I know. We don’t talk about it remember. But I will say, that pretty blue-eyed mothefucker’s picture is still the back ground of her phone. My skin crawls a bit when I see it. I want to read those messages so bad. Fly on the wall, wouldn’t even please me. I want so desperately to know what they talk about. My existence to him, probably stops short of the touching, kissing, and sleep fucking. As does his. All I can say is it must be a nightmare to juggle those feelings and all I can do is not make it worst by making her talk about things she isn’t ready to talk about. How chivalrous of me? I figure the worst has already happened. I feel less sad and more annoyed by the departures and unknowns. It’s beginning to disgust me. I can push for the answers that I, either will have earned by force, or to my displeasure. So, I do nothing. I am still me. I am still planning our future. I am still hoping. I hate it. But a watched pot doesn’t boil… Or something like that.