I don’t even know what to say. I feel my heart inside my body. And I can’t determine if I’m just being dramatic, because everyone who reads this might think that’s it. It’s not. It burns and it makes my face warm. Its radiance travels to my stomach and creates bubbling acid. It hurts. All of me. My eyes blur easily because I stare off too long. I have to blink at least twice to clear it, to refocus across the room at the clock.
That damn clock. It taunts me. It knows it’s the one thing holding my sanity together because it still reads 12:33 a.m. I can still fall asleep in time to feel okay tomorrow. Work is tomorrow. It’s Monday; we all know how that feels. So I roll over and let the feelings simmer into loneliness. I let myself feel, but only for the next 27 minutes, because 1:00 a.m. is exhausting to think about. I need to be asleep by then.
I need an empty brain by then.
My eyes never leak though, I can hold it together that much. I don’t have too much to realize that makes me cry. I am a realist, I know the situation. I know her feelings aren’t a match with mine. She said so. And it’s fine. It’s what is.
It is what it fucking is.
I don’t know how many times I’ve said that out loud. Probably at least ten. More if you count in my head. It’s pretty ridiculous, I’d roll my eyes too. Go ahead, roll them. Thanks.
1:02. I’d turn the clock off but then I probably wouldn’t sleep, in worry that my phone alarm wouldn’t work, even though it’s worked every other day. I’ll fall asleep soon. Just breathe and listen to that sleep app that plays ocean sounds. Seriously, this is where I’m at?
She’s a great person. She’s become the main person I talk to, text, and snap with. WE WEREN’T ANYTHING OFFICIAL ANYWAY! Just stop.
I fall asleep around 1:46, or at least after that because that’s the last time I see. I wake up to my clock alarm, five minutes fast. And hit the snooze. Five minutes later, the real 5:55 a.m. phone alarm goes off. I swipe left to snooze it. Five minute intervals of alarms go off until I growl into the silence, “okay, okay, just relax!” like the alarms are real. Mornings aren’t my thing.
I look at my phone, and then her “goodnight” text. She’ll text something when she wakes up and I’ll get it during my plan period, or if I get a chance to check it before that. I’m always waiting to hear from her, and like a routine that I need to break, she’s reliable. I can depend on a constant conversation from her every day, all day. I’ll also see her face every day, all day through Snapchat. My heart reacts every time.
My heart reacts.
But this time, my entire body reacts. It’s not just flirtation or easy fun like before because I know I should be stepping back. I know she sees me as a friend, more than anything else. I know that her words mean friendship now. I know this.
I fucking know!
And it’s my fault that I can’t let go. Or step back. Or pull it together. You know how I know? Because I’ve been telling my friends this for years. I have always been the one with the calm, rational voice that breaks through their insanity and sadness of a breakup or ending to something revolutionary. I’ve always been there to give them the harsh reality, to give them the strength they need to stop crying, to shine a light on why this is overall a good move. I’m the one who thinks logically and not with her heart.
I can’t think logically so I know it’s my fault. My heart got in the way. I didn’t silence it like before. I let it do its thing for once. I thought “You go heart! Follow yourself!” So I let my guard down. And now I can’t function. I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe!
So I’ll listen to my independent woman mix and drown myself in books that don’t relate. I’ll throw myself into work even though I’m so distracted by her. I’ll eventually let her go. It’ll eventually fade away and we’ll be back to before we met, hopefully with a friend-ship. But for the record, I hate this.
I hate it.
She did nothing wrong. She’s amazingly great. I just can’t control my feelings, and sometimes that has consequences. I’m totally immersed in my heart and trying to get out of it to return to my head where I’ve been happy for so many years. People say that’s not healthy. People believe the heart should direct traffic for my life. They might be right, but I’m braking because I’m a driver under the influence.
I can’t be trusted to navigate the roads that lead me to make decisions. I’m not happy. I never wanted this. I don’t see how it didn’t work out. I do give a shit. I always have given a shit. But sometimes you can’t make the other person meet your heart in the crossroads, no matter how true to your heart you are.
Written: September 2015