Much like the thoughts of my ex will.
I don’t know if it is boredom or being at home, but amongst the familiarity of my childhood lifestyle are equally daunting memories of my first relationship.
It’s like stepping through the front door unearthed every last thought of him that I had held pent up in the infinite caves of my somewhat lacking memory for the past two years. And as much as I want them gone, my life has become an episode of ghost hunters, and I dug up the wrong phantasmic grave.
My room is a freaky hybrid of remnants of the old and adventures with the new, and every second my mind is playing hopscotch between similarities, differences, and blending two extremely different personalities to make me rethink every decision I’ve ever made.
Do I miss him? No. Maybe. I can’t decide. But my bed seems to fold only tangles with him between the sheets, and the hammock out my window is strung up with an out-of-body memory of our split, and the car that I drove in high school wreaks of the last drive that we took together. A long talk about his ‘mistake.’ He never should have let me go.
But I disagreed. It would never work between us and I didn’t want to try and I stand by that still, but then why can I not get him out of my head? I have a perfect Prince Charming waiting for me a mere, what, 500 miles away? ish? That’s not so bad, right?
And he is worth the wait!
I feel like a crazy person.
Kesha, girl, you’re right. Wait as long as you possibly can. As soon as you start letting those little sparks ignite, every last ounce of sanity that you have been able to cling to will go up in flames.