Yesterday everyone kept asking me what was wrong.
That I looked sad.
Preoccupied.
I thought they had found my twitter, or this blog, but they never brought it up.
But preoccupied seems like an understatement.
You’re in my head everyday, even if it isn’t you, it’s “you adjacent.”
Things have been better, I have an easier time focusing than before, but I hate that I had to harden my heart to get here.
I caught myself wondering what it is I did wrong.
What did or didn’t I say?
Why couldn’t we have just been a teenage “it” couple in this city, and I’d have my career in teaching, or something else.
You were my motivation.
Taking care of us, was my motivation.
But now I’m some crazy internet stalker, buying books and comics in Norwegian just to take a shot at translating them to peer into what rhetoric would make you such a hermit.
The world at your finger tips and you don’t partake? Or maybe you do and I’m just not privy to it.
I hate all of this.
How I feel.
Myself.
You.
How I feel about you.
It’s the worst.
and sooner or later the love bug will bite me and I start the cycle all over again.
Ugh.
