soundtrack

When I replay their night over in my head (because, feelings and complications completely aside, it was undeniably good night of conversation among other things)… Maroon 5’s song “Secret” plays in my head.

Their silly laughter, over very silly topics would fade gently to the music. The camera would pan over to the view of the bay and the orange lights of the bridge reflecting serenely in the lakes choppy, short waves. And finally when the song goes…

“I know I don’t know you, but I want you so bad…”

His hand grabs want-ingly (not a word, but it works) at her hair and pulls her into a kiss.

Ah, the mind of an author and her characters.
This is a rare romantic moment with my characters.
Though, it’s less romantic because they aren’t in love.
It’s more intimate… Yes. Intimate. Mm.

conspiracy

“All the legislation in the world will not abolish kissing.” -Elinor Glyn

i can’t sleep because i’m thinking of you.

on my velvet eggplant couch.

and a repeat of last saturday night.

none of the intricacies of the next day.

or how I feel.

just the moment. only the moment.

your fingers in my hair.

and the gravity towards your lips.

because

sometimes it feels like he sank into my skin and slowly ripped the veins from their rightful, blue infused spots. it doesn’t feel like i can love. i feel like it’s something i want but can’t have. everything feels very surface. superficial. and when it goes any deeper, i don’t want to believe it. i don’t know how to handle it.

the him after the him

“Guilt is the price we pay willingly for doing what we are going to do anyway” -Isabelle Holland

I relived it today and I felt guiltier than I’d ever felt about it before. Have I gotten to the point where I would say I wouldn’t of done it? Not really. I say not really because I learned a hell of a lot. That week, as much as I still hate to admit it, was the worst week of my life. I don’t know if being with Woody* made it worse or better. During our long night walks, I know I learned a lot. At a time where I felt silly, insignificant and immature… he made me feel assured, significant and intelligent. I really did learn things that I still hold on to today. The most amazing kissing and chemistry does not equate to good sex. Love is a choice, not a feeling. Those are just two examples. Not to mention the fact that I got to experience something that I can use legitimately in my writing now.

But back to the main point.

Guilt. Yeah. What I did was wrong, there’s no getting around that. I got caught up in the moment. I wanted to feel wanted. I took what he gave. I invited it. There’s not much I can do about it. But I did want to say that I do feel more guilty than I had felt.

*pseudonym

a beginning

“Begin at the beginning,”, the King said, very gravely, “and go on till you come to the end: then stop” -Lewis Carroll

I’ve decided that writing down what’s going through my head will be a good thing for me. Mainly because it allows me to compartmentalize the part of me I least understand. Motivation, ambition, intellect, advancement. I have a grasp of all of it. I don’t have, however, the slightest grasp as to my emotions or feelings. That’s not to say I’m an uncontrollable person, no I’m far from that. Instead I hide behind a rather icy exterior that makes it easier to be less emotional. For six months, since my last relationship and the messy afterwards that’s all I’ve been. It’s not so much a ‘wall’ as most people put it. I’m not blocking anything, because I don’t want anything.

Or so I thought.

I met someone a week ago today that very much swayed my ‘icy’ exterior. We’ll call him Armstrong* I’m interested and curious about it right now. I have no idea where it will go and I really have no expectations.

But that alone is not why I’m going to write. In fact, it’s just a side story to the main event.

*pseudonym