Little Races.

There’s only one person out there that can make my heart race, and he never fails to do it every time. I’ve tried to get things into perspective, and I actually think I’ve managed it because the last time I bumped into him, I didn’t have any strong desire to beg him to take me home. But I still thought about him continuously for the next few days.

He doesn’t believe what I have for him is love, and I can’t say he’s not convinced me of that by now. Why does me make my little heart beat faster, why do I quiver with anticipation every time he emails, sms-es, calls. Even when he wasn’t declining my affections, when he still desired me, I still felt the same way.

I can’t explain it. But I know I matter to him and I’d like to believe I affect him in some way. Oh of course I would like to believe a great deal of things, and sometimes, I don’t think I’m altogether wrong in supposing that they even exist. Like the fact that he might actually care, that he might actually find me fascinating, that in his own way, he might hold some sort of respect for the character that I am.

It was only the night before last that I realized what being self-absorbed meant. I have no problems listening to other people and empathizing with them, and I never hesitate to help my the people that are dearest to me. Even if it was a big sacrifice; if they really needed it, I wouldn’t pause consider my inconvenience. That makes me kind I suppose, but I’m no less self-absorbed.

Being self-absorbed I think, is being unable to think about the feelings of someone else, in their context. I think about people all the time and the way they feel, but only ever with my experiences and temperaments as a base. Sometimes I feel a little derisive at the way the Girlfriend treats her relationships, that need for some kinda guarantee, for someone to cling on to. With him, I presumed too much. Why that other girl and not me? Wasn’t I smarter, prettier, less responsibility? I didn’t see that that was what I want in a partner, not what he did. I would have given up a lot of things for him, I had no doubt of it then, and still don’t now. But I would die in a relationship that demanded too much out of me, wanting to give a part of me out of my own free will is far different from being blackmailed into giving it (You’re hurting me bitch, shoot me with some more of that dope or kill me, can’t you see what you’re doing; that sort of emotional scenario is just too frightening for me to even dare presume it could ever happen. I wouldn’t be so stupid to).

I don’t know anymore. I don’t. And there’s no point in trying to understand things. There are no answers, no reasons, and nothing that stays grounded in anything. Feelings change, our situations and our lots in life keep evolving. And mine evolves faster then I can take in breaths; maybe I should try to stop guessing.

All I know is that I feel the way I do. My heart runs little races for him, and it’s been nearly a year now. On and off, On and off.

It’s better than forgetting what passion feels like, lost in the pragmatism of living efficiently. And I told him thank you for making me feel the way I do.

xoxox