Why is it that I seem to neglect writing when all is well and write the most when things go awry?

Right now I feel the need to write cause in the past couple of days I have been experiencing incessant surges of sadness, the source of which I cannot seem to put my finger on.

So here I am on a lovely Friday afternoon, sitting at a coffee shop tapping on my brand new iPad 2, puffing on a cigarette and sipping some coffee. From afar all is well, and this sort of life, for the regular person, may seem enviable.

I get up when I want, sleep when I want, schedule my meetings and my work as is convenient for me, and I have the luxury of sitting here while other people toil with work and life.

No one will know.

No one can know.

No one will see.

No one can know.

No one will bother to know, see or understand the sort of trouble I have to go through.

but then again feeling the pain in my abs, thighs and arms, and still being totally psyched about tomorrow’s work out convinces me that i am no quitter.

No. I have self control.

For just one night I can totally let go. For just one night I can close my eyes, let my guard down. For just one night, I can be completely selfish.

I’ll curl up next to you. Take your hand in mine. Feel your breath on my skin. Feel our hearts beat in sync.

Maybe, just maybe. For just one night, I’ll rest my head on your shoulder. For just one night I’ll whisper in your ear. Maybe for just one night I’ll kiss you as if nothing else matters.

Maybe for just one night I’ll be selfish.

Maybe for just one night I’ll learn to lie.

Maybe for just one night I’ll tell you I love you.

even if I know it’s just pretend.

Cause then maybe you’ll put your arms tightly around me. And maybe you’ll whisper sweetly in my ear. So that maybe, just maybe, you can warm the cold emptiness that is my heart. So maybe, just maybe, I can feel human again.

And maybe, for just one night, I won’t be bothered by what pretending would do to you.

Maybe for just one night I’ll be selfish.

Maybe for just one night I can pretend.

Maybe for just one night I won’t cringe when you hold me.

Cause probably, when the morning comes, I’ll walk away and never look back.

Cause maybe, when the morning comes, I’ll choose to stay in your arms forever.

And maybe, when the morning comes, you’re no longer there, and you, too, were pretending all along.

I have felt pain worse than this. Much, much worse. The kind of pain that feels as though someone just punched you in the gut and you’re internally bleeding. No, this is not that sort of pain. I didn’t feel for him enough to feel that sort of pain upon losing him. This is more of a busted-ego induced pain- I’m disappointed at how easily he gave up. I check the stats, I make the predictions, I hypothesize, and I make my bet. But each time I pray I’d lose. I guess I somehow get an inkling of what’s going to happen and how people are going to react based on uhh “trends” and past experiences, but each time, I hope I’d be proven wrong. Why are they all the same anyway? Why do they all react the same way? Cause yeah, they do.

Anyway, people always leave. What’s important is that we take one last look, see where we went wrong, see where THEY went wrong, learn, then move forward.

I retract and erase what I typed.

I’m not sure how a call from me would make you feel. Will it make you happy? Will you be asleep and will I end up waking you? Will you be with someone else? Will you be sobeR? Have you forgotten about me in the week that passed?

I change my mind. I feel so distant from you anyway. Why call?

12:05. I’ve been thinking for five minutes. I open my compter. No, you’re not online. I chat up my friends. Maybe I’ll be entertained. Hi-hellos with people I haven’t spoken with in a while.

12:07. Time seems to creep. I still have your smile etched in my subconscious. Will a call from me make you smile like that? Or is someone else making you happy?

12:09. The minutes really are creeping.

12:12. Click click click goes my mouse button. But nothing can distract me. I grab my phone and step outside.

12:15. I light a cigarette and pour myself a glass of coke. I take a puff. Halfway down my stick I say to myself, “I might as well.”

12:18. Hands still shaking, I press the green button. I scroll down. Your name is still there from when you last called me.

It’s ringing. I resist the urge to hang up. Still ringing.

I hear your voice. The music in the background is a little too loud.

Okay, he’s out. I thought.

Hey! Happy birthday!, I say in my most cheerful voice.

Hey! Thanks!

The music is now faint. I don’t know what else to say.

And to avoid the awkwardness, I make for the disconnect button.

That’s it! I just wanted to greet you!

Hey wait! Don’t go, don’t go!

Oh. Haha. Okay.

Let’s talk for a bit! Where are you now?

The music is now gone.

I’m home. You?

My sister threw me a surprise party! All my friends are here!

Yeah? Awww!

Haha! Yeah, I know! So hey, can you come?

Now? It’s a little late.

Oh. right, right. So… I’ll see you soon?

Yeah, okay! Have fun! Happy birthday!

Okaay, thanks.

Disconnect.

…

…

I can tell you were smiling. I heave a sigh. Well, that went well.

I shrug.

So what if I do?

“I don’t want to ask, I might not like what I hear.” I answered.

God knows I am in no position to go into anything with anyone right now. Although my life has taken a huge turn for the better, I am still a mess and I still need a whole lot of fixing, and so does he.

Still, I’d have to admit…