Don't get too excited. I meant that as in, I'm getting back on track with my shameless acts. So, here's to number twenty four. Share a struggle you have yet to “just get over.” Names have been changed, for all the good it will do. Bear in mind that I wrote this at 2350 last night, so it's a little rambley-ramble.
They say that unrequited love burns the longest, the brightest, and is the last to fade. It's the desire of the unreachable. That knowledge that we can never have what we want most. It's as if we are a recovering addict from a drug that - oftentimes - we never took.
That's how it is for me. That's how I feel about Frank. As bad as it may sound. He knows, of course, but neither of us is in any position to do anything about it. Nor would we, I think. We've had so many chances. So many opportunities. Yet... yet something always holds us back. There's always been a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or distance. Timing has never worked in our favor.
I have been hopelessly love-struck by this person for - literally - years. It started when we were only kids and I was just starting to notice that boys - particularly this one - were actually rather interesting. It got worse when we were reunited in high school. I almost couldn't believe it was him at first. I hadn't seen him in almost two years, and he'd changed, a lot; but I knew it was him even though he didn't remember me. At all.
I'd follow him around like some simpering puppy, just hoping to see that smile. Even better if were directed at me. It made me nearly breathless whenever he gave me that look. But then he graduated and we seemed to move on with our individual lives. Each of us headed directly toward our own train wrecks. We'd talk on Myspace occasionally, but for the most part, we just sort of drifted away from each other.
Until my own marriage really started collapsing.
He was the only person I really felt comfortable talking to about anything. He'd gone through his own situation, and he was familiar. He was my Frank. I could tell him anything. Which, naturally, did not sit well with R. He continued to grow increasingly jealous. I can't say as I blame him, honestly; but I just couldn't trust him the way I could Frank.
It's remained that way, since my separation from R. Frank and I have continued to talk; but it's not as "innocent" as it used to be. Without meaning to, he's hurt me - a few times. In all fairness to him, though, I've walked myself into it almost every time. I tend to set myself up for failure where he's concerned.
So I've told myself, and him, several times over that we shouldn't talk anymore. Shouldn't have anything to do with each other - especially considering current circumstances. Yet no matter how many times I say it, I can't keep to it.
No matter how hard I try to fight it, my heart still does a little skip whenever I see I've got a message from him. I still get a little breathless when I think about how I felt to be in his arms- even if it was just a hug. If something that simple, or a smile could make me feel this way - especially for so long - it has to mean something right?
... Most likely, it just means that despite my attempts at seeming to the contrary, I am still, at heart, a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on the "hopeless" bit.
Ah well. C'est la mon vie, non?
I've got so many other things to think of, though. Just have to keep reminding myself to take it a day at a time.
They say that unrequited love burns the longest, the brightest, and is the last to fade. It's the desire of the unreachable. That knowledge that we can never have what we want most. It's as if we are a recovering addict from a drug that - oftentimes - we never took.
That's how it is for me. That's how I feel about Frank. As bad as it may sound. He knows, of course, but neither of us is in any position to do anything about it. Nor would we, I think. We've had so many chances. So many opportunities. Yet... yet something always holds us back. There's always been a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or distance. Timing has never worked in our favor.
I have been hopelessly love-struck by this person for - literally - years. It started when we were only kids and I was just starting to notice that boys - particularly this one - were actually rather interesting. It got worse when we were reunited in high school. I almost couldn't believe it was him at first. I hadn't seen him in almost two years, and he'd changed, a lot; but I knew it was him even though he didn't remember me. At all.
I'd follow him around like some simpering puppy, just hoping to see that smile. Even better if were directed at me. It made me nearly breathless whenever he gave me that look. But then he graduated and we seemed to move on with our individual lives. Each of us headed directly toward our own train wrecks. We'd talk on Myspace occasionally, but for the most part, we just sort of drifted away from each other.
Until my own marriage really started collapsing.
He was the only person I really felt comfortable talking to about anything. He'd gone through his own situation, and he was familiar. He was my Frank. I could tell him anything. Which, naturally, did not sit well with R. He continued to grow increasingly jealous. I can't say as I blame him, honestly; but I just couldn't trust him the way I could Frank.
It's remained that way, since my separation from R. Frank and I have continued to talk; but it's not as "innocent" as it used to be. Without meaning to, he's hurt me - a few times. In all fairness to him, though, I've walked myself into it almost every time. I tend to set myself up for failure where he's concerned.
So I've told myself, and him, several times over that we shouldn't talk anymore. Shouldn't have anything to do with each other - especially considering current circumstances. Yet no matter how many times I say it, I can't keep to it.
No matter how hard I try to fight it, my heart still does a little skip whenever I see I've got a message from him. I still get a little breathless when I think about how I felt to be in his arms- even if it was just a hug. If something that simple, or a smile could make me feel this way - especially for so long - it has to mean something right?
... Most likely, it just means that despite my attempts at seeming to the contrary, I am still, at heart, a hopeless romantic. Emphasis on the "hopeless" bit.
Ah well. C'est la mon vie, non?
I've got so many other things to think of, though. Just have to keep reminding myself to take it a day at a time.
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