sarita rising

I'm resuscitating this blog for several reasons. It's early May 2008, I've been out of college for a year, the Amanda Marcotta/BfP/Seal Press/WAM blogosphere explosion just happened, and I have a lot of thoughts to process. We'll see where it goes.

Monday, November 29, 2004

nostalgia

i'm not in love with you. you were never in love with me. this fact is reaffirmed by the fact that i haven't written about you in a very long time. it's a fact that you can tell when i'm about to be un-fucked-up over you, that i summon you telepathically. yes, i do, in a way that is creepy in its accuracy (that word doesn't look right).

but i do miss some things. if freedom is not having any responsibilities, i miss the freedom of high school. i miss having my biggest worries be enough gas in my tank to get to see you, not getting caught, and not falling asleep at my job. i miss driving through the streets of a town i know so well, so inside and out, at night, racing boys, adrenaline, feeling like this was life.

man i miss those nights. i miss leaving eldo at top speed for town after escaping the house and curfew negotiations. i miss my drying curls, revived after the day in the ponytail and tits popping out of my tank top. i miss my stomach's nervous rumbling whenever i got near you or you called or drove by.

hours spent in that basement, with boys i trusted. hours of beer and movies and video games and witty banter i knew i was smarter than but i didn't care because i finally had a group. believing they all wanted me, going to bed with enough of them to prove it.

the same old cliche bullshit. buying condoms at gas stations. waiting for the pregnancy stick to turn blue. the bottom dropping out of the stomach (even when the stick wasn't blue). the things we told each other, in the dark, half naked, holding on to the precious vulnerability we'd summoned by sleeping together. trying to be honest. it all sounded like lies anyway.

i was never your first choice, but i did fucking get to you. i got to you in ways you didn't want me to. i got to you as much as you got to me, you're just harder than me so you don't have to admit it. but we know: i mattered to you.

i love you still. but i can't. not anymore. i can't do this to myself, can't be your second choice no matter how much i love you, no matter how good either of us is in bed (and we are good, aren't we?). can't have someone who can't even admit he cares about me, who i can't even tell how i feel. can't play the games anymore.

so i guess this is just to remind me what i already know: i said goodbye to you a long time ago.

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