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The other night, while working with Julia, who was ear-to-ear smiles, the entire shift, telling me about her boyfriend in between incessant/overly cute texting conversations with him, I was unexpectedly hit hard by a tidal wave of unwanted emotions.
In a response to her “have-you-ever-felt-this-way-questioning”, we began exchanging stories.
What-is/was-love-to-you: via compare and contrast narratives.
While she went on about the butterflies, the cute notes, the first kisses, the anxiousness, the tension, the what-do-I-say-now’s/what-do-I-say-back’s, my head (and heart) took an unwanted plunge down something, known to most as “memory lane”, known to me as “memory black fucking hole”
I won’t go into detail, as I am sure everyone has these episodes; however, it was not remembering the person, per say, that upset me, but the overall premise that while people are falling in and out of love, asking me my take on the whole deal, the only offering I can supply is:
a.) you change
b.) he changes
c.) the butterflies in your stomach will self destruct in t minus 2 months
What ever happened to that feeling?
I wish I had something like that.
I wish I had the actions instead of the tired old stories.feeling:  drained listening to: Azure Ray |
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