FB Notes: 'In All Honesty...'

As much as I love this, I want more. Call me greedy or selfish, but I think that, after all this time, I deserve "it". I'm not even sure what "it" is, but it's got to be more than just lunches, late nights, early mornings, and "coming home" to each other.

For so long I was comfortable. I was fine, hell, I was HAPPY, because it didn't have a name, there was no definitive way to describe what we have. But, because of my own shortcoming curiosity, I had to push you, I had to care about titles and definitions and all those things that other people look at. I had to wonder and I apologize for that.

So what we have (or, more likely at this point, had) is an 'understanding'. No matter what happened, I always came home to you. Through these past few years and the people in and out of our lives, we still, as you like to put it, came home to each other in the end, through it all. But I'm done with 'in the end'. I don't want 'once upon a time' and 'the end'. I want it all, the story in between, wicked step-mother and all. I'll take a bed full of mattresses with a singular pea; I'll clean night and day with mice as my only companions; I'd rather live in a tiny cottage with seven strange, little men than go on with this 'understanding' that you're only there for me when the day is done.

For the longest time I believed that this, what we had, was the best, the ultimate option because no one could quite pit a finger on it. It couldn't be defined, therefore it couldn't be touched and it couldn't be construed into something ugly or mundane. But now, now that other options have come my way, I feel like the only reason we never defined it was because we wanted to hide it. Albeit, hide it in the most obvious of ways, but hide it nonetheless.

And, also, it's just gotten hard. I try to figure out my feelings for you but there are other guys out there who make it plain and simple for me to understand. I hate second guessing myself when there's a guy there who wants to hold my hand when we're out, when there's someone who'll catch me when I trip and doesn't want to let me go right away. I want to feel good when I plan a weekend full of bad TV and bad movies with a guy and I don't want to have to think about you or have to consider your feelings or wonder if you're gonna call or text me or show up out of the blue. I want to talk to a guy when he calls me and wants to talk about nothing at all, instead of hanging up when I see you're on the other line. I want to keep the shit eating grin on my face when he messages me at the end of the day, wondering if I'm okay instead of wondering why you haven't asked me that yet.

See? I want more. If it has to be you, I want it to be you, one hundred per cent: I want you to be the one holding my hand. I want it to be your hand on my waist to steady me from falling. I want it to be your hips against mine as the music blares and the lights dance in a frenzy. But, right now, it's not. You just hear about it all when we're sitting in your car and you tell me that you wish it were you. I don't think you really mean that, though.

So, with this, I'm leaving 'home'. No more 'understanding' crap, no more 'I come home to you in the end' bullshit. I'm over all that, and I'm done with your charm. I'm packing up this emotional baggage and hauling it off to a one-bedroom apartment across town and no, I will not leave a forwarding address or phone number.