out of bounds
i was joking around with my friend will today about how he should do my homework for tomorrow so i could go out drinking tonight with c instead. telling him he would do it if he were really my friend. affecting that bratty attitude that i do, from time to time. back&forth jabs and then he said "why, are you planning to run into david again?"
and i felt breathless like being kicked.
in the chest.
and everywhere and falling down hard.
just the reminder of it.
how i've been trying not to think of it. it's still there, but at least i can try not to think of it so much. at least i can just be quiet about it.
all i could bring myself to say was "that's out of bounds."
and i haven't really felt like talking to anybody, since then.
i know he didn't mean anything by it, and i wish i could laugh but i can't.
not yet.
maybe not ever, i don't know.
and that horrible mean voice in my head can scream over and over about how stupid it is, i should be over this by now. i should be better. "love is so short, forgetting is so long" right? neruda got it.
sometimes i wonder if he crawls into her bed shivering in the middle of the night, like he used to here. i wonder if she wakes up a little and says "aww, baby" and wraps her arms and legs around him to give him her warmth. she doesn't really care if she gets cold; if she can make him warm then maybe she'll make him happy and if she can make him happy then maybe he will stay.
but anyway. that's all out of bounds, now.
back to the syntax of old french.
and i felt breathless like being kicked.
in the chest.
and everywhere and falling down hard.
just the reminder of it.
how i've been trying not to think of it. it's still there, but at least i can try not to think of it so much. at least i can just be quiet about it.
all i could bring myself to say was "that's out of bounds."
and i haven't really felt like talking to anybody, since then.
i know he didn't mean anything by it, and i wish i could laugh but i can't.
not yet.
maybe not ever, i don't know.
and that horrible mean voice in my head can scream over and over about how stupid it is, i should be over this by now. i should be better. "love is so short, forgetting is so long" right? neruda got it.
sometimes i wonder if he crawls into her bed shivering in the middle of the night, like he used to here. i wonder if she wakes up a little and says "aww, baby" and wraps her arms and legs around him to give him her warmth. she doesn't really care if she gets cold; if she can make him warm then maybe she'll make him happy and if she can make him happy then maybe he will stay.
but anyway. that's all out of bounds, now.
back to the syntax of old french.
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