I feel like I have a lot to say and a lot to say worth saying. But with him, there’s sort of nothing. Sure, there’s forced stories, or awkward but genuine laughter; but so often the sound of the static; an auditory reminder of our distance. These lapses cause me to reflect and to worry. Worry about the future (our future) as though I didn’t have enough to make me worry about that already. We like each other and care about each other and that’s fine. That’s good, even. But the silences become cold. The gaps in communication make me feel like we’re on different pages, like I’m trying to catch up, and maybe he plays a game but I feel like I fumble far too often. I think all this and I realise there’s still silence. I have a lot to say and a lot to say worth saying, but in the pit of my stomach, through the butterflies that I fear are dying is doubt. A pang or twist or knot that is murmuring that he just doesn’t care. Doubts: why talk about your day, why talk about the play or the exhibition you want to go to and that he won’t have time to, why talk about the book you’re reading when he will never read it, or the movie you want to watch together but just never get around to because when he comes around there’s only one thing you end up doing.
But it’s something. It’s something that I care and there is a lot of merit there. It’s a specific care. It’s me caring about his day and all the details that he considers ordinary. It’s about caring about the incidental things that he considers trivial, and we might not be on the same page but from where we are respectively maybe we can teach each other something. There’s value and respect and room for love to grow. Good things take time and I have to be patient because I am young and I have hope.
He messages me and it seems like maybe he cares.
I just have this sense that I’m doing something wrong.
I had a dream where I went to an art exhibition and there was an artwork where you walked in and it just looked like a slightly distorted version of a normal painting, but then you kept walking past and its shape just kept warping/distorting so that you could never really see the painting as it actually was. It was like when a fish warps in a bowl.
idk I also had a dream I forgot my work uniform then had to go back home then made it back in time but then I forgot my work shoes or something. But then I woke up and I only have work at 5PM so it’s cool.
I feel like we have arguments all the time. But I don’t mind so much because they’re usually bit petty in the grand scheme of things. I’m scared they could add up though.
I almost called Erick earlier to ask if he wanted to see Iron Man 3 tonight (I still haven’t seen it I don’t know if I ever will at this rate) but I chickened out. It’s really just too far gone.
“Did you know that our calls are free?”
“What, Virgin to Virgin?”
I burst out laughing.