and the talking leads to touching

i think there is a moment before something ends that you know it's going to end, not at that exact moment but it is going to end.

looking back on it that moment existed but i never wanted to see it. i wanted to believe so badly that just loving someone was enough. enough to make up for your insecurities and theirs; enough to make up for distance and time never being on your side; enough to make up for nothing being enough. enough to make up for my simply not being enough.

i never wanted that moment to happen. i never wanted this moment. this moment when the wounds are still fresh and the light still stings your eyes; when the prospect of going to bed or getting out of bed is scarier than you'd ever thought possible and when the tears keep coming long past when you expected them to run out.

it's not as if someone died michelle. sadness like this is so selfish...well, i'm sorry. i'm sorry that i'm blogging about this but it's 2am and there is no one i can call and i can't sit alone here...i just can't. it's too dark and too small and too fucking quiet.

so instead i'll make you all read this and he might read it too and if he does he'll know i loved him and he'll be embarrassed that i posted that but i don't care because i did love him. i do love him and i thought he did too. i am the kind of person that falls hard and falls quickly and will announce it from somewhere. i am not afraid of being embarrassed. why bother being embarrassed...am i suppose to apologize for loving someone? jesus.

this is all so silly and it makes me want to write bad poetry and add to the bottle of wine i drank BEFORE the shit and the fan met and fell wildly in love. which would you rather be? the shit or the fan? i'd rather be the shit...i'd rather be the one that ends up splattered all over the place.

this isn't how i pictured this all coming to a head.

michelle.