on a new decade

The memories we've buried, Have just taken seed, When springtime comes, They'll turn into weeds, And they'll creep through your window, to smother your dreams, You know fate has a funny way, of coming around.- Dr. Dog (The Beach)
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There's something about a new year that always come around and grabs at people; but what about a new decade?

I have a lot of thinking to do.

on cold nights and warm beds

If you're always on the go, make an angel in the snow, and freeze.- Dr. Dog (The Breeze)
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It's that time of year that always leaves me holding on my breathe- I'm waiting for it to be over, so I can see how I come out on the other side- is it the nature of the end of the year, or the cold nights that make me so uneasy?

I'm thankful that I have you to keep me warm at night,

but I still am afraid that I'm doing something wrong with my life, and that in the next few months, I'll make the wrong decision that I'll somehow regret.

I have made a lot of bad decisions in my life, but I haven't ever regretted them, because they brought me here.

That doesn't mean I'm not still worried about the cold nights, and wishing I had you here to keep me warm tonight.

on falling (slowly)

I don't know you, but I want you all the more for that.- Glen Hansard (Falling Slowly)
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When you wrap your arms around me, I want to pinch myself to make sure that its real.

I squeeze my eyes shut and lean in to kiss you,

because the feel of a kiss is better than a pinch.

My hair falls in my face, and I go to shove it aside, but you beat me to it.

One hand on either side of my face, you push my hair behind my ears and smile at me.

I am trying not to fall so fast-

but you're making it really hard on me.

On Rainy Days (and Tuesdays)

Well I've got something to say, but you might laugh, joke, or run away. Cos' I'm awkward, and nervous, sometimes I don't say much at all.- James Morrison (If the Rain Must Fall)
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I want to feel the rain drop down on me, one drop after another awakening me until I can no longer discern one from another.

Maybe then I'll get this place I'm in.

on falling

I feel alright when I think about you.-Ryan Adams (Beautiful Sorta)
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My head hurts like crazy, my foot aches, I have scratches that I don't know how they got there-

but if I had to fall to get where I am now,

then I guess I'm okay with it all.

on the cold

I start a fight cause I need to feel something, and you do what you want because I'm not want you want.- Taylor Swift (Cold As You)
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I set myself up to fail.

I should have known that no matter how cute the dress, regardless of the meticulous detail paid to my hair- nothing about me was going to make you act any different.

But I tried.

It was almost like watching from outside of myself; these words coming out, asking you to come back to my place with me- the horror when you walk away from me, the heat on my cheeks as a I try to deal with the combination of embarrassment and whiskey floating around inside me.

This isn't what I wanted that night to be, but things never go as planned when it comes to you and me, and you would think that I would stop planning for anything at all.

And it's when she shows up, that something clicks with me. I can't look at her, I'm just looking at you, standing perfectly still, and I feel myself mirroring your actions, the stare back, as if we are unsure of who will back down first. In my periphery, I see her glance back and forth between us-

I'll come back later?

the quiet suggestion to her voice breaks me down even further.

Can we talk outside for a second?

I ask, he follows, and as we step into the warm air away from the low buzz of the bar, I try to figure out what I want to say to him- if it's worth saying anything to him at all.

You can't just do this,

I tell him, trying to keep my voice cool and calm.

I loved you. I loved you, and you broke me, and I just- I don't get you.

He looks back at me, and the lack of emotion in his eyes only boils my own higher- if he could know how much I felt- would it help him to feel something, too?

He shrugs.

I'm sorry.

No, you're not sorry,

I am combative, I am angry. I am fed up with someone who can't ever own up to the many mistakes he makes, even if that means qualifying myself as a mistake.

So punch me, go ahead-

He leans forward, motioning to his cheek.

I know you want to.

I look back at him in disbelief, and for a flitting second, I really do consider knocking him cold to the ground.

No,

I decide, shoving him back, closer to a car, as I move forward, locking eyes with him.

I won't hit you. I won't give you that satisfaction, you don't get to feel better about this.

He looks a little surprised, I think- the first flicker that he is even cognizant of the situation in front of him.

I can feel the tears about to come but I'm not ready for them.

Don't ever talk to me again, don't ever come near me. I want nothing to do with you.

I turn, walking away with as much dignity as I can into the crowds of people milling around outside. I don't turn back, because I don't think I'm strong enough to keep walking if I do. I wait for the darkness of the park to envelope me, and let go-

letting the waves of whiskey, wind, and night wrap me up and remind me:

I was never as cold as you.

on a choice

I had a choice so I threw you away.- The Chalets (Sexy Mistake)
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I think that when I see him, that it will be like a punch in the gut to me. The last time I saw him- the yelling, the hurt, the anger, the tears that flowed for so many more hours than I ever thought possible- it was hard to walk away. I couldn't imagine walking back towards him, and none of those feelings would come tumbling back.

We walk into the bar and straight up to the bartender.

Whiskey and coke, two red headed sluts, and whatever she wants,

I say, motioning to my friend.

The bartender smiles as he starts to make the drinks,

Whats the occasion?

Just enjoying the night,

we respond.

We grab the shots, clinking them together-

To being hated.

Only then do I allow myself to turn around to see him at the table. And is it just me, or is there something less exciting about him then I remember? He looks plain, bland, not the guy a week earlier I was so certain meant so much to me.

I walk past, without looking him in the eye, and settle at the far end of the table. It remains this way for most of the night- this ease of just pretending that there is a point, a spot at the table that I don't look past,

and he no longer exists to me.

I made my choice.