who do you turn to?

The other night I sat around a table drinking and smoking my head into oblivion. I clearly remember thinking one prominent thought: no one will ever be able to love me as much as I want them to.

I can't help but wonder if anyone will ever feed off my mind, body and soul as much as I need them to.

Across the table from me sat an ex boyfriend that I dated on and off for several summers. He has this way of barely acknowledging my presence, and sending me vibes that run like ice cubes down my spine. He used to make me feel this way just before telling me that he was falling for me. Maybe I just don’t know how to read him.

But the cold vibes made my heart ache. And every time I looked over at his face, which I still find painfully attractive, the scar on the right side of his nose brought back too many memories. Fuck you, I thought, I gave you my lips, my arms, and my patience every time you never showed up when you said you would. I don't have to feel this way anymore.

Beside me sat my new dark haired beau. He was so lost in thought that I was feeling like I’d lost him. I grow paranoid when he grows distant, sure that his eyes have finally fallen off my face. And I keep thinking about how afraid I am to give him my heart, beating and bleeding in my hand. I’m afraid of seeing it eaten, refused, or left to rot in some dark corner.

Before I could disappear in my thoughts he turned his attention back to me. Once again I had his eyes, his warm hands, and his face leaning into mine. And I realized we share the same blank stare that has only to do with being lost in thought. He probably writes lyrics in his head in the same way that I scribble poetry in mine.

When we went home later that night he danced through the streets. I clutched my stomach and from laughing too hard. When he does things like this I wonder how someone so right for me ended up in my life.

And the next night when we sat outside on the streets, he touched his guitar and sent music into the sky. It felt so good it could have been me he was touching instead.

He’s hitting all the right chords. I’m afraid that when the song ends their won’t be an encore, that the stage lights will turn off, that everyone will go home, and that I’ll have to face reality. I’m afraid of the day when I’ll feel like Miss American Pie and mourn the day the music died.

But even as I write these words, I strike a chord that says “You know you’d be okay.” Because I like myself, I love myself, and I know that I am okay by myself.

There’s just something so foreign about loving and feeling loved in return that makes it seem a road worth traveling down. But when it comes to feeling completely understood, loved and appreciated…I think it’s a good thing that I know to turn to myself.