Feeling fucking low. See there’s a few things going on. I have this knack for analysis. Perhaps overthinking. And there’s this guy. He’s really really far away. And he’s not mine to have. But I want him regardless. He can give me a piece of himself. But I want all of him. Every bit. And he knows how I feel about him. Fuck, he might even read this. And I know he cares about me, in his own way. But we are so far apart. So, it’s love from afar. I have all these things I want to say, but I keep them to myself. Because he’s made it loud and clear what I am to him. And the thought came to me: maybe this is how my life is slotted. Like it’s going to be this way for the next forty years. I’m going to love him and it’s not reciprocated and he’ll continue on with his life, much as before. And I’ll read his books and wish he was writing about me in some of the chapters while at the same time hoping he’s terribly crazily happy because then it would be worth it all, knowing he’s well and taken care of in ways I’m sure I never could. Am I the most pathetic beast that walked this earth? Please tell me yes so that I don’t feel sorry for the other pitiful losers out there. But yeah maybe I should just be content. Okay with life as it rolls on. Isn’t that what people do? Embrace reality?
©️tara caribou – 2018
You can read more about reality as she sees it at Caribou Crossings.