I hate the sadness that comes because he is my first thought in the morning when I no longer want him to be. Because I am trying to get over him. Because I am trying to move on. Yet it's impossible because he is my first thought in the morning.
The thought that follows me from the warm comfort of my bed and into the hot steam of the shower. That continues as I wrap the towel around me. As I apply the lotion to my face, arms, legs, and torso. That lingers into the applying of blush, mascara, and today's shade of lipstick.
The thought of how he looked at me. The size of his hands compared to mine. How he closed his eyes when he was remembering something, and messed-up his hair when he was nervous. How his glasses were always smudged.
They continue as I hook my bra, pull on my tights, slip on my shirt, zip up my skirt, slide my feet into my heels, and decide on my jewelry.
His laugh. How we made fun of each other in the best possible ways. How he rubbed my back. How I laid on his chest. How he ran his fingers through my hair.
How he complimented me on more than just my looks.
He consumes my thoughts as I pull on my coat, pour my coffee into my travel mug, pull both of my bags onto my left shoulder, grab my mug and my keys in my right hand and walk out to my car.
As the morning air hits my senses I tell myself the tears in my eyes are just from the cold, but I know better.
Even a cold winter morning can't stop the thoughts. How he would say something funny each and every time I unlocked my front door to let him in. How he would describe his day without the use of any adjectives.
I try to move him out of my head as I sit and let my car warm up, hit the radio volume, and listen to the morning DJ's, scrape my windows, and drive to work.
He manages to slip in between the laughs from the radio and a traffic light as I think about how he kissed me in the parking lot and my right leg involuntarily bent at the knee like some 1930's black and white romantic comedy. How I laughed to myself when I realized I was swooning in the full moonlight of a cold December night. How I played with his hair as he lay in my lap. How he would nonchalantly rub my calf as we talked.
As I put my bags on my desk and turn my computer on to start my day taking a sip of coffee one last thought creeps into my head; the last image I have of him, the image of him walking out of my apartment and the lingering feeling that I wish I would have hugged him good-bye. Instead I watched him walk down the hallway before I closed the door.
It all makes me sad. Those thoughts that come first thing in the morning when I am trying to move on.
But I also hate the sadness that happens when I realize that he is no longer my first thought in the morning because I am moving on and it's without him.
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4 comments:
I wish I had something comforting to say here my dearest...but I'm going through the same thing. I'm thinking about you instead of him right now.
Cheer up, sweet cheeks. I have just the remedy. Make copies of my avatar and place them throughout your apartment (don't forget the shower), and your workplace. This will redirect your focus in a mentally healthy and spiritually fullfilling direction. Pug Power to the rescue.
Wait. Where's my friggin' avatar?
...and then I spend an hour after work talking to my girlfriend, when I should have been working on my damn thesis, about him and she tells me I need to talk to him. I need to tell him this isn't okay I need to do something. I can't have a, 'what if.' (Cause that's a fun and pointless game. The 'what if' game.)Anyway.
..and there he is. Right back to the forefront of my thoughts.
(sigh)
HST: You actually popped into my head when I was writing the post last night. I'm sorry sweetie. I really am.
P: I have an image of a pug in a cape coming to save my day! Pug Power to the rescue, indeed!
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