I saw him yesterday, like a beautiful gazelle running in the wild, though this time on bike path off Broadway going up The Hill. I froze for a second in a wave of awe, pain, want…regret.
Then, I had a fuck fest in my car. By fuck fest, I mean I screamed and swore to the heavens in the safety of Surry, my silver Subaru.
It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to see him if I can’t have him, if he doesn’t want me?
Later, the question turned to “why does it still hurt so much?” Again, I thought “this isn’t fair.” I let the pain subside as the tears rolled down my cheeks.
Fuck Fest (Part 2)
(This was written a few months later, about 2 weeks after I had once again seen “the gazelle” when we passed on bikes as I was dropping off a library book. Apparently my first fuck fest had worked…I said “hey” with only a tinge of lingering pain.)
Fuck. I’m falling for another boy…and it will be at least 3 weeks until I see him again. Does he like me? I think so. But I’m not really sure.
We had hours fly by with just us talking. Does that mean anything?
I want to write more, but I’d be going around in circles.
Fuck. I don’t want this. But I do.
Regardless, I have a dog.