That’s what I saw in the clouds today. I wonder if anyone else looked up and saw the same thing.
I’d list some more Alice in Chains lyrics today but I’m listening to “Whale & Wasp,” which is an instrumental.
However, not to leave you wanting, I’ll list these lyrics instead: (If you know the song “Crashed” by Daughtry, you can skip reading them, but to not read them means missing the majority of the point of the post.)
Well I was moving at the speed of sound.
Head-spinning, couldn’t find my way around, and
Didn’t know that I was going down.
Where I’ve been, well it’s all a blur.
What I was looking for, I’m not sure.
Too late and didn’t see it coming.
And then I crashed into you,
And I went up in flames.
Could’ve been the death of me,
But then you breathed your breath in me.
And I crashed into you,
Like a runaway train.
You will consume me,
But I can’t walk away.
Somehow, I couldn’t stop myself.
I just wanted to know how it felt.
Too strong, I couldn’t hold on.
Now I’m just tryin’ to make some sense
Out of how and why this happened.
Where we’re heading, there’s just no knowing.
From your face, your eyes
Are burning to me.
You saved me, you gave me
Just what I need.
Oh, just what I need.
I attempted to blog about this one other time. I have it saved and I re-read it and some of it still applies. A lot of it still applies. Granted, some things have changed but faced again with this situation, I can’t say a lot has changed about that.
I’m talking about Ron, by the way, my contractor. Just so everyone is on the same page. Yes, he was here this morning. After months of glancing down his street everytime I’ve gone to T-Bird’s, took Nate to school, or picked Nate up. And I’ve thought of him. Thought of calling him, which I didn’t. Looked for him at the grocery store, the gas stations, Wally World, Kfreakin’Mart, restaurants, you name it.
And everytime I heard “Crashed,” I thought of him. I listened to “Crashed” just to remember him. To remember how I felt when I was with him. When he sat on my couch and pulled me onto his lap, somehow I couldn’t stop myself, I just wanted to know how it felt. It felt fuckin’ good.
It felt so good just to curl up on his lap and talk to him, to catch up, talk about the house, and how big Jack has gotten. Jack was just a kitten when Ron last saw him. Its been 8 months.
A fact I pointed out to T-Bird as she raked me over the coals this morning. Its been 8 months. It may be another 8 months before I hear from him again. I may never hear from him again. He admitted how many times he’s driven by my house and not stopped. How many times he’s thought of calling me, and didn’t. And I admitted the same to him.
I just wanted to enjoy it. Whatever “it” was.
I’m not stupid. And believe me, when I walked back into my computer room to post what I had written last night and this morning, I said, “Fuck.” Underneath it all, I said, “Fuck.”
But that doesn’t stop the feelings. And what I didn’t say to T-Bird, but wanted to, was this: Must be nice to be able to sit back and make judgements about what is best for me especially since you have a man at home that worships the ground you walk on. You divorced him and you still couldn’t get rid of him. He works, he cooks, he cleans, he does laundry, he has sex with you when you want it, and he’s helping you raise three kids, two of which, technically, he’s not even related to anymore.
And you want to deny me a fucking hour of my life, when my son is asleep and drunk asshole isn’t calling me, to have just a moment, one moment, when I’m the center of someone else’s universe because he missed me and he’s thought of me and he finally got the nuts up to knock on the damn door?
Why? Because he’s married? Yeah, not really my ideal situation either. But don’t sit there and tell me you’d do him, for sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but since I get attached, and this is not the direction my life should be going, well, I should never have let him in the door. Oh, okay, so its okay for you to fuck him, but not me?
Newflash again: I’m not stupid.
Come the fuck on. There was a reason I said, “Fuck.” Then I decided that worrying about what might happen is pretty useless in this situation because, again, it did take him 8 months to come back. He may not be back for another 8 months. He may never be back.
And here’s part of what I wrote many moons ago…
I’m fuckin’ tired. Tired down to the very depths of my soul. I’m so tired and stressed and worn out that my chest aches, my body aches from the work I do. Do I like that he’s married? Of course not. Do I wonder at times what her story is? Of course I do. So crass am I not.
But you know what else? I’ve endured every major situation in my life alone. Sometimes I barely had parental support, much less the support of someone who actually takes me away from everything, even for just a little while. And it compounds and compounds and compounds and please, tell me, if you were in my shoes, were me, and had lived my life, tell me how much better you would be doing than I am. Tell me how much better your decisions would be, tell me you would walk away from it, tell me how much stronger you are than I am.
Tell me you wouldn’t yearn for someone to learn every nuance of your moods and personality. Tell me you wouldn’t want to keep that person who you feel so comfortable with, someone who is so honest about how they feel even though they know it may be offensive to some, someone who can gently tease you, who gets irritated but is still patient.
Put yourself in my shoes and tell me you wouldn’t be tempted to take what is offered. Put yourself in my shoes, live in my loneliness, my heartache, my pain, and my sorrow, and tell me you would turn away someone who eases it. Yeah, might end tomorrow, might end next week, maybe I’ll never see him again when the house is finished. Maybe I won’t care. Maybe I’ll miss him to the depths of my soul. I don’t know. I won’t know and neither will any of you until it plays itself out.
And please, don’t shove that line of shit down my throat about me deserving better. What I deserve and what has presented itself to me over my lifetime and in the last eight months, through six jobs, miles driven and miles flown, coast to coast, nights out, online personals, and meeting at least two or three new men a day, are two different things.
That’s my reality.
I wish I didn’t feel the way I do about him, okay! I. REALLY. WISH. I. DIDN’T. But, I do. And I have and eight months hasn’t changed that. I really wish it would have. He is so soothing. Why is he so soothing to me and why the fuck can’t I find that somewhere else?
Yeah, this is such a bad idea.
At least for one hour this year, I’ll know I was at peace.