About realizing that you don't want what you've had all along Unfinished Work |
Suddenly, I had had enough It was Jake that I had had enough of. Jake, with his winning smile, sharpened wit, and unrealistic view of the world as we knew it, was killing me softly after two years of potential “together forevers” and ceaseless love and affection. Suddenly, I needed to be away from it all; take that road trip I had been dreaming of since before I could drive, and be with Lisa who had cut off her hair and now wore broomstick skirts and skipped the big football games even though she was practically the only one who did. For some reason, I needed mind-reconstruction and a feeling of unpredictability and spontaneity and looseness that only starting over would bring. I wanted to be away from the drama and the bracelets and the movies and his friends. For once, I didn’t want to see him after work or stay up and watch movies with him all night. The feeling surfaced when I rolled out of bed, and it followed me into the shower. As I slathered shaving cream on my legs and pulled the razor up my calf, I mused over my predicament. Should I see if the emotion dissipated with the coming day, or should I leave him while my intuition was telling me to and before my heart blinded any good sense I had? Hot water pattered onto my face and I sighed. Soon the heat dried out my skin and I shut off the faucet. Stepping out of the tub, I reveled in how slippery my legs were and I was somewhat pleased in the fact that, for once, I hadn’t shaved for anyone but myself. It wasn’t a feeling I had had in the past two years. Jake didn’t like stubble. There were a lot of things that Jake didn’t like. He didn’t like my friends or my music. He didn’t like my piercings or my books. He didn’t like that I occasionally had a cigarette or that sometimes I’d rather be out photographing other people than spending time with him. Not that he ever stopped me or attempted to steer me from the things he found so unappealing; he just refused to participate. So of course my friends called and left messages filled with “where are you?”s and “I haven’t seen you in so long!”s, and my photo album and bookshelf were left severely neglected, but I continued to be that one girl who couldn’t be away from her boyfriend long enough to see that maybe my mom was right when she said that friends are more important than boys. I wiped the fog off the mirror and tried to see what Jake saw in me. To my disappointment, I felt nothing during the process. I finally made my way back to my room and splayed out, naked, on my unmade bed. The sheets were cool and much more inviting to a solitary being than a group of two. I’m not much for sharing a bed. I don’t like the feel of a sweaty body next to mine, I don’t like the smell of their hair as I try to fall asleep, and I don’t like waking up to the sensation of their skin touching my skin. Beds were best left for two things: sleeping and thinking. I had already finished one of those things, so I set my mind on the other. My decision wasn’t exactly a hard one to make. I refused to subject myself to his face and his aura and his charisma today. Chances were that I wouldn’t want to the next day, either. Psychologists claim that scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. I think it must be music, though, because as soon as I got on the highway to see Lisa, it was my iPod that betrayed me and sent my mind into a whirlwind of doubt, pain, love, and confusion. The familiar songs took my heart and whatever sliver of soul I had and twisted them around until I could barely see straight. When all words fail, she speaks; her mix-tapes a masterpiece Whatever happened to the days when men would do anything to keep their women? Where were the boys who stuck around even when their girl cheated and beat his heart into a messy pulp? Jake certainly wasn’t one of those guys, and I had never even hurt him. Walks through the garden so the roses can see Jake took his women for granted. Jake understood a little too well that he could get nearly any girl he wanted. Jake knew that I would always come back. And you can see the daisies in her footsteps |