I came home with nothing to say. With my laundry basket, blanket and hands full - I had little room to empty thoughts. I came home with nothing new to add. I wanted to say, my old friends are well, that my best friend is leaving for school, yet somehow all that fell through.
Events are what we make of them. It is excused otherwise. Whether we were created or made, we were meant to overcome obstacles. I came home with a conclusion.
I can't go back to my old way of life and ever be happy. I'll not meet anyone that could possibly be my companion. No, sadly a trip to my friends for vacation helped me grasp that I'm not capable of going out with much enthusiasm. I'm not capable of holding chit for chat on trivialities. If I don't know you - I don't wear much in patience.
I sat in a car with my old 'friend' Austin whom babbled on about the latest fashion and shows he watched. I sat silent - attempting to wade through the spew. Could I care less? Possibly. Who really makes it their life to prattle on about something that matters so little? He continued his ramble on Britney Spears and the VMA's. I continued nodding politely and grunting when he needed filler. He wants to move to Maui. Somehow that slipped in and I fumbled to recover the conversation to something more meaningful.
"Why Maui?" I tried to reason out that the prices of living were the very reason my family moved away and that he'd be reduced from less than middle income to nothing more than a wage slave. He didn't care. He summarized it so succinctly that I felt compelled to bite my tongue. He didn't care. So, why should I?
Prada, current boyfriends, D&G, name drop, empty thought, Rihanna, cute guys, and "look at his ass."
Who lives like this? I used to apparently find these things fascinating somehow because he was very bent on telling me it all. I could give a shit.
We went shopping. Correction; he went shopping - I stared helplessly at the clothing racks, then at the window. I excused myself for a smoke I hadn't had in months. I'm supposed to be done with that habit. Idle chatter brings out the worst in me.
So I sat outside glaring against the sun, inhaling the Camel against better judgment. Against better judgment, yet clearly drawing distinctions.
There was absolutely no way I could carry on my life in this tangent. I wasted a significant portion of my life by whim and chase for that 'someone'. So when asked if I've ever loved - I'll answer yes. Yes I have. I was in love with love. Now we avoid each other. Some friends would say I'm too picky, I'd say easily from experience - I wasn't picky enough. If I was being picky - I'm sure I would have met someone by now who wouldn't disappoint me. If I was being picky I would have held a conversation with words containing more than three syllables.
If I was being picky - I'd be silent because I was actually listening. Not silent because I wasn't sure of what to say. Silent because we both understood the other. I laugh now, but the thought occurred to me, I could hire an escort and pay him to just sleep the night and hold me. That's all. Nothing else. I've never been to bed with a guy who has tried anything but snuggle.
I came home with my tongue tied. I came home lonely. My body aching for someone to hold me, but my mind sighed in relief that the whole of me understood.
It's best I’m happy alone.