rollingdumpsterfire

[rollingdumpsterfire]

I think I wanna get into Domming.

[rollingdumpsterfire]

Found another French press and I’m slowly getting some semblance of normal mornings back, which I’ve missed. I set Howl’s Moving Castle down on the counter, pages-down, so while I wait for the water to boil, and while I let the coffee steep, I can get another chapter in. Leaving the book on the counter like that makes me pick it up when I’m waiting for things to boil. Lots of instant ramen and linguine with scratch-made red sauce to power through lately.

“What a very elegant way of making coffee!” I remember a Radiologist telling me when I explained what a French press was. The kettle begins to whine, stopping me mid-sentence in the book about Sofie’s boldness as an old woman. I pour the kettled water over the grounds in the press and shuffle around for a spoon.

“Damn. I need to stop wasting spoons like this”, as I root around for the last spoon, quickly stir in my coffee, and rinse it off to set it aside for my cereal. “Huh, four minutes, that’s shorter than I originally thought”, the instructions say. I’d usually let the coffee sit for ten. “Well, it’s not like I won’t taste the difference” I chuckle to myself, sparking up a reason why I even crave mornings like these in the first place. Immediate mental damage shaken off.

A silence fills the apartment.

I still can’t tell if I like these kinds of silences or not. The first time it happened was when I had gotten on the phone with many friends that day offering their support I always shrink away from.

"Come over, we'll cry and watch movies."

"Drive up here and stay the night, we'll play board games!"

"This is last minute, but come to my bachelor party at my house!"

After the last friend hanging on the phone said “I just got into work, call you tomorrow?” and hung up, it was there for the first time. I stared down a half-empty apartment. You know the silence, when you’re alone and have been crying over something permanent but your body has just decided it’s over doing that mechanism. You’ve taken that last hiccupped breath, wiped your last tear, and blown your nose for the last time. That silence. What the fuck IS that silence? It’s happened more than once, too.

For a person who remembers hating silences off all kind, trying to fill a room with a record, or just powering through the stigma of making full-blown conversations with themselves. I learned to hate that inner voice. He was so jaded, so negative, so matter-of-fact. He was as sharp as a tack though. He would shield me from disappointment because worse-case scenario; I always knew it would end this way. Best case? I'm pleasantly surprised. It was never a silent moment with you, though. Anything to shut him up.

“No way we have the same exact music tastes!”

“Why do they call him Sterling and not just Archer?”

“If you were a bee what bee would you be?”

I was slingshot back to the reality of my current situation.

Chapter Six: In Where Howl Expresses His Feelings With Green Slime. Setting the book back pages-down, (listen, you'll be FINE it wont LIVE like that, besides-- you don't even want to know what happened to my copy of Catch-22), I root around for a mug, as if I'm not already going for my black and white "Eat the Rich" mug you got me two birthdays ago that I haven't washed since. I take my coffee black, and it's MY mug don't you dare fuckin' judge me! (by the way:

Yes that new Two Door Cinema club record is great, Sam crushes those guitar riffs.

It's a play on 007 where other characters call him Bond and not James.

A busy buzzy bee.)

My whirlwind of a roommate, went off to work after a night of debate of whether or not we need to go to a hospital. It's not that I didn't believe them of their sharp rib pain, it's just not enough to quantify an emergency and we would be stuck in the ER for hours only to be potentially told "we don't know what's wrong, here's some pain killers you can't afford, and off you go!" I don't even know who to be angriest at in this scenario, but I'll always kick myself first. Damn me and not being at the Doctor level yet. Damn me and being smart enough to know that I'm not smart enough to give a definitive answer on what ails them. FUCK me for being unwilling to feel their pain because if I give more empathy it'll complicate their feelings towards me, since admitting they had a crush on me the day before. I really don't need that on my plate right now.

There it is again. That damned silence.

Recovering again from those mental blows to myself, I reflexively go to the fridge to aim for that hazelnut creamer that you liked. Laughing to myself "having a coffee addiction but can't take it black." I touch my temple now from that psychic pain.

"Why do you snowball like this?" I say to myself soon after, switching gears to reach for my own milk for cereal, only to ultimately decide against it and close the door. I take the green book, set my mug on the coffee table and lay myself down on the couch with my left leg hanging over the edge. I look over the top of the book to the same perspective where you'd work and I'd read in absolute silence.

I learned to be welcoming of my own thoughts through the quiet times. I'm still the extrovert and needs to fill the air with noise. I used to make noise to shut up that angrier, self-loathing, inner bastard. This chapter of life though, having nothing going on, and no one to talk to made moments OF talking to friends all the sweeter. You showed me that.

I was emotionally damaged when we met so I remember often, looking up and choking on my own words for fear of letting you know more about me. I just got used to not saying anything when we hung out. I was busy being in my own head though.

I would make myself uncomfortable because I felt guilty that I was just in my head and not actually present with you. I KNOW you were okay with that, more than okay, you loved me more for it-- I just wasn't. The more and more these thoughts cycled in my head the more resentment I grew. At myself. It festered horridly. You ran around cleaning or cooking or working on your art, and I would check in "Need me to do something?" I didn't ask because I genuinely wanted to help I asked because I felt the guilt of being just inside my own head and paying you no mind. Secretly kind of liking it.

I didn't lie about loving you--it just made anything that you did that bothered me all the worse. All relationships have speed bumps, my spiraling made them mountains. Is this how you felt, in those pictures where you're deep in thought and you didn't say anything until the idea of me got away from you and what reality me would actually say? Yes, of course I don't have to move in with you! I know it's too early, but opportunities like this are weird like that in relationships, why have you been holding that in this whole time? You know you can talk to be about anything when it happens? You know with me there's always a compromise, right? You know it's not healthy to be hung up on an ex, right? Do I actually love you, or is it that "idea-of love" trope? Did I actually give in to "the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody" subconsciously? Did I give in to that initial terrible thought when we started dating that you were just a rebound? Sorry I'm freaking out about moving in with you, but it's too soon, yeah? Uh oh, I've had a dream about this, where we are dating but I'm not happy being with you, it's not coming true, is it?! Am I admitting I actually don't see a future with you? Am I subconsciously looking for the next person and refuse to give up what I have and let that jerk voice win? Did I just find someone else? Did I lose a different opportunity because I couldn't get it together fast enough? Again? Why am I like this? Would you have actually done those awful things if my situation was different? You know if you stopped trying to appease everybody you wouldn't be in this mess right? Do you like the drama secretly? Did you invite that chaos because you're bored? You're just a womanizer just like every other guy, aren't you? You try to go against that in every way but you're no different when push comes to shove, right? What could have done different with--?

"Just give me a second to breathe!"

I catch up to my runaway daydream.

That silence returns.

"Shit." I stare at my empty cup of coffee, which usually meant I would have to start the French Press Process all over again, but I always fill the press with water so there's two cups. Whether or not it's a leftover habit is unimportant, anyway. I shuffle over to the kitchen and fill my mug again. I turn my back, mug in hand and lean on the counter. The cold coffee touching my lips.

"Yeah, I've missed mornings like these."

[rollingdumpsterfire]

“What?”

You say after you notice me staring at you. “Nothing.” I respond, panicked, hoping that you hadn’t noticed and I was trying to be nonchalant. Is this what it means to be choked up when you’re thinking about what to say and how to say it? I don’t want to come off as dorky, too mushy, or mess up what I actually mean. I get caught up in my own head, trying to find the right words to explain how I feel about you.

After waaaaaay too much thought, I finally summon enough courage to say what’s on the verge of something really bittersweet.

“This is gonna sound really stupid but...dating you feels like one of the best summers I ever had; the last summer of high school...”

Ah, shit, that came out even worse than I thought. It’s true! These past few months have been exactly like the summer before I left for college. Like, what the fuck do you even say to describe that feeling where you were just running around hanging out, you had something to do-- to experience--to its fullest and in awe everyday.  

Like how is it that you say “I’ve got the night off” and we already say to each other what we can do, so much so  we forget what we originally wanted to do. No plans, just spontaneity. Where we go find some swings after a show and hold conversation. Where we just go record shopping in the afternoon and spend way too much money only to spend the rest of the day taking turns playing albums. Even just hanging in silence. 

Actually Kels, I am a HUGE talker. I would just blurt out whatever came to mind all the time. With you, I want to be careful when I do say anything. Maybe it’s because some things are better left unsaid, or maybe because I need to be in the now. I just don’t want to overbear you with loveboming. I’m too much sometimes I know that about me and I hate it. I overindulge and am a glutton for more. Especially if I really care. 

“...Elaborate,” you ask.

“ah, shit” I think to myself, I always hated having to do that cause it requires more words than I have ownership of. “Like I’ve said, I really admire your freedom and being with you is just the most fun I’ve ever had”. I muster enough words to say. The feeling of the wind at your sail, a good deep breath, unknowingly coming up to a beautiful night sky, or seeing the skyline of the city of your road trip destination. The freedom that the world is your oyster, and you’re feeling the aphrodisiac of it all.

“I dont know what I’m doing so that makes sense.” you respond. I hang my head. 

“Definitely not response I was aiming for.” I say to myself. Makes sense I get something like that because what you really want to say sounds even worse but because you’re constantly fighting your own mind. “It’s just nice”, sounds corny. “You’re alot of fun”, wow, what is this, a fuckin’ rom-com? “I like how you help me revert back to when I was a kid,” thanks Freud, I hate it here. 

There’s just more to it than that. Cause I was IN a relationship at that time. It doesn't feel the same, believe me. There was alot of bickering, enemies-to-lovers, vibe that she and I had. 

The love I share with you Kels, it more the culmination of that time period. It’s fiery, passionate, tender, impulsive, explosive, hot, sexy, surreal, astonishing, dangerous, cute, sultry, adventurous, exhilarating… I could go on but I won’t run out of words.

“Just calm down man and enjoy the ride” my phone pings. After I’ve been texting my friends how much I overthink.

“Te muerdo”, you softly say.

I look up from my phone to formulate a response. Looking up, not paying attention, I’ve been bitten.

“Ay, coño, no me muerdas!” I exclaim, kicking me out of my concentration. You put on that cute, sly, small v-shaped smile and my heart sinks.

“Te muerdo”, you repeat, all satisfied with the interaction.

I cut my eyes in response.

You respond with the same.

My heart skips a beat because all I wanna do is break and start kissing you all over. “What are you, a dog?”, the cynic in me stops me from moving. Yeah I’m gonna always be fighting myself.

“Baby, you’ve got to roll your Rs, muerrrrrrdo.”

“Mueherdo”

“Nope”

It’s really sweet that you’re learning Spanish. If you ever get to meet her, Abeula would have the warmest heart towards you. The cynic in me is hostile about it, but teaching’s got it’s benefits. You pull out your little notepad for phrases and I smile. Sure, it’s just phrases now but you’ve been getting better conversationally. The notepad has that, and there some phrases that are— more personal? Things I thought wouldn’t make things steamy, but they do. Who knew, the Romance language, works well with intimacy?

“Te lambo” you softly say while I’m deep in thought.