I'm not even a big fan of the thing. It's the weird cross between Italian pasta and Chow mien that bugs me. Halfway through it, I'm still unsure what I'm wolfing down. I don't like the nuts, either. I usually spend the first ten minutes, picking through the box, thinking I should have requested the nuts out from the lady at the counter when i ordered in the first place.
But something about it comforts me. Ergo, the box of spicy noodles next to me and whatever notebook and pen and I have handy swearing, no pledging, in writing how tomorrow will be a different day, again.
I had another box, for lunch today.
That, and a ceremonial haircut right after.
Yeah... I have a lot of 'new living' to face up to tomorrow. Mostly living that involves getting over you, getting over you with her, and getting over the monsters in my head in general.
I'm getting tired of my sudden breakdowns and temper flares. At the end of the day, it's still me on the losing end. It breaks my heart, it ruins my eye makeup, it worries everybody, and it sure as hell won't make you like me more than you like her.
So what's the point? And if I don't get it, either, why the hell do I fall into my own trap every single time?
Okay I admit it, I'm jealous of her. I envy the way you look at her, and the way you smile at her. Tenderly, fondly -- so unlike the boisterous laughter you usually throw my way.
But I sort of get it now --
-- that it's not even a matter of who's the better one between us, anymore. It's just a matter of you liking her for different reasons.
There are just things about me that she won't ever have, things you and I like that you can't ever talk to her about. And in the same way, there are things about her that I won't ever have and won't ever be, either, things that you won't ever see in me.
And maybe you love her in a different way for those things. And I'd like to think you love me in a different way for different things, too. I may not have won the romantic end of the deal, but hey, it's better than losing you altogether. I'd hate for us to not hang out at all, to not talk at all, to not share an after-work beer or two, just because I can't accept your half-baked attention. I don't have that right over you. I don't have that power over you. And it was wrong for me to assume property of your feelings. They have always been yours to give.
All I have to do now is take what you're willing to hand me. In your own way, you have always made me feel I was special to you, but I can't expect you to love me the way I want you to. And if friendship is all you can offer, it's not my loss to cry over -- and it's not your loss to realize either.
And I can't keep waiting like this pathetic waif crying, silently begging you to come around and be the Right Guy for me when we both somehow know you're not. Being the stubborn girl I am, I guess I just kept fighting it. And now I've worn myself out, defeated, when there was no battle to be fought in the first place.
-- I realize now, I've been tiring myself out for nothing. I've been crying over nothing. I've been dissing people who had nothing to do with anything. It was all in me, all this time. And it's only me who can stop it.
Well, my Mr. Right could sweep in and save me anytime, too. I just have to be patient, and believe that he will come. That he's still out there -- the one who'll find in me things he couldn't find in anyone else. Things he'll want to spend time with me for. Things he'll love me forever for.
While he may not be like you, and there might be things in you I won't ever find in him, he'll have things about him I won't be able to live without. Things I'll love him for. Different from the way I love you. And then, his things and my things (and maybe, even your things, our things) will finally fall into place.
I just have to hold on tight to that thought, and I'll be okay. Charlie will sit with me through it, and I'll be okay.
