Put it to rest.

I still feel so angry and knotted sometimes. What happened almost two years ago now haunts my nightmares. Why do I still even think about it? I am so far away from it and so much happier than I was. I guess it was a semi-traumatic experience and only time will rub the remnants of memory from my mind. I don't really want to talk about it with anybody because it's not worth discussing. Sometimes I consider talking to a professional, but I think I already know what they would tell me. I search for clues of what I left, wondering if things have changed. I should not care one way or the other but I still do. This desire has left me in tears over and over and yet I still look back. I don't want to anymore. I don't want to dream about it anymore. My future is full of love, hope and happiness. I want to dream about that.

Trepidation

That moment after we tell our feelings and, with trepidation, await a response. Will these words be met with anger, love, fear... or worse, indifference? I much prefer a heated argument over a lengthy text message debate. Waiting for someone to text you back now appears to be the norm, though I rarely engage in that kind of dialogue anymore. I hate it. I like to think I have grown up a bit and those agonizing moments waiting for a boy who may or may not like me to answer my question about what he is up to tonight are in the past. They are, however, in my not so distant past.

I used to live in the mountains, in places small enough that I recognized passersby within a week of living there. My first home in the mountains was smaller than the second. Compared to the city I lived in while studying for my B.A., things moved snail slow. Socializing was among a group of ten or twenty others, but was usually a group number closer to the former.

I chased one while another chased me. I thought that was just the way it was. I know the one I chased reveled in making me wait. I don't know if the other even noticed when I tried to do the same to him. He probably did, but was smart(maybe) enough to never let on. My heat would flutter when I heard the text message beep. I thought, "I hope it's from him."