Went back home two hours later half rested half beaten down. I mean it was kinda cool getting my ass out of the house in the first place but my expectations do not far exceed what I've known for quite some time now. Reality is I hardly conclude things unless it's work, or something really necessary and even then there's a small window open in case I need to make a run for it.
I didn't get to see much of my company -quite a relief there as there's barely any need for me to look like a dork who's trying too hard, which I do, and what's worse I know it but for some odd reason I haven't yet reached the point of quitting.
From time to time it feels like it's the easiest thing ever, to quit. I take off the ring, now hanging looser than it used to when I first put it on my finger (don't be fooled it's not that huge a difference - plus it is borrowed as he clearly stated), I put it on the bedside table and refuse to even look at it. I'm positive I'll give it back first chance I get and let go of that initial stupid romantic thought that having it could mean a thing. It doesn't. If it did the bestower would have had me know. Or would he? Fuck speculations, I could hurl at my own face when I dope out like that.
A few days later it kind of bothers me seeing the thing lie next to my bed, so I put it back on my finger, I wouldn't want it to roll on the floor and get swallowed up by the vacuum cleaner- what will my excuse be if it got lost, better safe on me till I give it back. A few days go by and I find it comfortably settling on my finger again, I spin and roll it with my thumb, check how much looser it got as I Skype, flip records or wash the dishes. And then he's there and I'll say something like "you want it back right?" and he nods no and it still gives me that kind of accord and silly warmth when he tries it on for a while and then takes it off and puts it back on my finger.
Celi says I drive him crazy. I don't see yet but I do, she says, it's only a matter of time, but there are nights like tonight when we've had our time together and got to hug and say our thank you this and thanks for that and kept texting after parting and I come home hungry, sit over the hot plate cooking chicken and lettuce and feel like bawling because physically I miss him too much. And I could refuse his fingers snapping to light my cigarette or deny how sedative his warmth is, a kind of heat that creeps from the knees to my chin when he holds me taking a few seconds too long to let go. And I don't even want to be touched or even talked to by anybody because nothing feels like that silent grip.
I could withdraw all the words he reads or listens to because my mouth is always so big. I could stop thinking oh fucking kiss me already and just act on the thought. But who says those things in reality? The only truth is if you won't kiss me then you can shove your mouth in your ass.