Tonight, while driving home from work, I had the sudden urge to completely word vomit my emotions on a past relationship. Therefore, in all my class, I whipped out the phone and voice memo-ed our history. This was my new car's initiation into the inner workings of my mind. Poor Flora. And seeing as I am completely vulnerable on this little blog, of which very few read, I thought I would write out, word for word, what I recorded.
(static) (turn signal noise) (throat clears)
Our love was intoxicating. It was passionate. We danced In between the ripples of an ebbing river. Lost at sea. Yet so easily thrashing amidst the waves. I was being torn apart. I never invested in something so powerful, so captivating. It was new. I'd always been able to control my emotions. To put up walls when I felt unprotected. Yet, one touch from you, and I was shattered. You were like a rope, tied around my wrists. I couldn't let go. Equally as bad, and equally as good. Equally as unhealthy, and equally as sustaining. I was confused. I couldn't understand how we weren't meant to be. And I always found an angle, a corner to peer around, that would give me the answer that I needed for the moment. The solution that I needed to justify us. Months passed by, and we were still on this ferris wheel. Circling over and over, never finding the straight road. But ferris wheels are fun, right? They're entertaining. They're scary. They're romantic. But is it worth investing in something that doesn't grow. And something that can't be watered, and brought to a new life? We were dying, and we both knew it. But there was always that something, that one something, that bound us together. Finally in an explosion over something small, we just stopped. Maybe we were just too tired. Perhaps we counted that little thing, as the one thing, that was big enough to turn the light switch on, when all the boulders in our path couldn't even spark a small flame. We completely parted ways. Never spoke. We both knew that we could easily wind up back at the start if we did. There's always that part of me, though. That voice in the back of my head, that wonders "what if". That hopes "someday" our lives will intertwine again. And just as perfectly, and just as sweetly, and sincerely, as the moment we first met, we will meet again.
("Crap, how do I turn this off? It probably didn't even record.... oh! It did!")
