My Year In Lists

I’m headed for Box Elder

I got a lot of things to do
A lot of places to go
I’ve got a lot of good things coming my way
And I’m afraid to say that you’re not one of them.

I used to get sick to the stomach, sitting, waiting. Did my phone vibrate? Better check. Oh, nothing. Or it did, but it was from someone else, my heart sinking again. Waiting. Waiting. For what? For my spirits to be lifted momentarily as you deigned to throw me back a scrap. And then all over again. For what?

Unrequited feelings are held up as some romantic badge, a show of honor. It’s bullshit. It’s a way to wallow, to celebrate someone else and denigrate yourself in the process. Not anymore, please.

Hey, things are turning around! It’s thrilling! I have a wonderful group of people who care about me, who are interested in my life, who need no prodding to start a conversation. You- you’re not worth my time or effort anymore. Mostly because you don’t care enough to take one second of your day to say something, anything to me-to show that just maybe you’ve spent one iota of your time thinking about me. As someone you might care about in any way. Hey, good work. I’ve moved past putting too much into it. Wrong place, wrong time, not worth my time or effort anymore.

There are so many more deserving people. Including myself. 

Hey, Laura—can’t wait. You’re one of them.

‘Cause I’ve decided to make a stand
And I’m not gonna take your hand
I’m taking the next bus outta here, I’m gonna head for Box Elder, M.O

rvymnd:

and though her yo-yo hand was usually busy at other things, now and again would come the invisible, umbilical tug, like tonight mnemonic, arousing, and he would wonder how much his own man he was. One thing he had to give her credit for, she’d never called it a Relationship.

“What is it then, hey,” he’d asked once.

“A secret,” with her small child’s smile

-Pynchon