And that's the thing about believing.
It's not real.
Like the tooth fairy, or Santa Clause.
Or love.
But I will allow myself to believe,
over and over again,
that love is strong enough to conquer anything.
That it's stronger than bickering,
and fights,
and having to say 'I'm sorry'.
My best friend.
My punching bag.
My love.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
This is not an act of a vanity
I smile a lot when I see my own reflection. I practice lifting my mouth up and down, review my cheeks as if they are some math problem to solve. I am pretty sure that I've perfected the positioning of my face and how it should feel while smiling. The key is to concentrate on not looking overly happy, but then again, not looking like how I really feel either. I do this so I am prepared with a smile when I run into someone in the hallway or at the supermarket, so I have a picture in my head of what other people see when they look at me. It really is an art to appear nonchalant and carefree, while working carefully and meticulously to hold my face in the position that I see when I practice looking in the mirror. It's a fine balance and I think I've got it down.
Do you think so, too?
Thursday, January 22, 2015
dating your boyfriend
Nights spent laying on our ugly couch watching some stupid tv show, which is most nights.
Walking our dogs together on a warm summer morning, or a cold, wintery saturday afternoon.
After i get home from work and he wants to grab food or go to that hole in the wall mexican place with good sangria. (Much later, we will come to learn that our hole in the wall is actually the best mexican our town has to offer). i tell him 'sure' but i need to shower and do my hair. He cringes inside (following suit, i cringe, too) because we both know we wont be leaving to go anywhere for at least an hour or more and he is annoyed because all he had to eat was a fruit roll-up and a protein shake. (fruit roll-up wrapper is crumpled up on the coffee table and the remnants of a chocolate shake are drying up, crusting the side of a cup, sitting in the kitchen sink, just getting crustier by the minute.) Around 6:47 I'm finally ready. To him, I look the same as I did 2 hours ago and he loves me just the same. And he's hungry.
The way he always asks waiters for clarification as to whether or not the establishment carries 'coca-cola products?', because if not, he will have a mountain dew.
How when we lay together in our warm bed (just for the visual effect, the matress is on the floor like some crack house but in actuality it's because the box spring won't fit up our awkwardly shaped stairs) and how when i turn to my side, away from him, and he comes close behind and holds on for dear life like the world might end. I beg for a massage which he reluctantly gives me, but only for less than a minute because his hands get tired. That's OK because his warm touch and his big hands make me feel safe and isn't that what we all want, afterall?
Walking our dogs together on a warm summer morning, or a cold, wintery saturday afternoon.
After i get home from work and he wants to grab food or go to that hole in the wall mexican place with good sangria. (Much later, we will come to learn that our hole in the wall is actually the best mexican our town has to offer). i tell him 'sure' but i need to shower and do my hair. He cringes inside (following suit, i cringe, too) because we both know we wont be leaving to go anywhere for at least an hour or more and he is annoyed because all he had to eat was a fruit roll-up and a protein shake. (fruit roll-up wrapper is crumpled up on the coffee table and the remnants of a chocolate shake are drying up, crusting the side of a cup, sitting in the kitchen sink, just getting crustier by the minute.) Around 6:47 I'm finally ready. To him, I look the same as I did 2 hours ago and he loves me just the same. And he's hungry.
The way he always asks waiters for clarification as to whether or not the establishment carries 'coca-cola products?', because if not, he will have a mountain dew.
How when we lay together in our warm bed (just for the visual effect, the matress is on the floor like some crack house but in actuality it's because the box spring won't fit up our awkwardly shaped stairs) and how when i turn to my side, away from him, and he comes close behind and holds on for dear life like the world might end. I beg for a massage which he reluctantly gives me, but only for less than a minute because his hands get tired. That's OK because his warm touch and his big hands make me feel safe and isn't that what we all want, afterall?
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