Impending Doom

The thing is… I know how this is going to end. I’m going to be heartbroken again; I’m going to check my phone every five minutes to find nothing from you there. We’re going to go months without talking, during which time I will think about everything that I would have done differently – everything that I would have said if I had known.

I’ll think about all of the things that I found out after; I’ll find out the things that you ¬†should have told me yourself. And people tell me that I should hate you, that I shouldn’t care whether you talk to me or not… But I do.

I care, and I don’t stop caring.

Then, just like this time, it’ll start again, and I’ll be happy. I’ll think that maybe this time will be different… Will it?

I Don’t Have Life Figured Out Yet

There are a lot of things in this life that I know. First and foremost I know that there is a God, and He is on my side. I know how to differentiate between sine and cosine; I can recite poems of Emily Dickinson from memory; I can tell you hundreds of facts from World War 2. I can tell you my honest opinion without bias.

But there are some things that I just don’t know. Where did we go wrong? What happened to making things work? Me writing you? You say you’re busy, and that’s fine, but did you really go from talking to me everyday to not having time to type me a few messages?

I think you gave up. You stopped wanting it because it was to big of a challenge; you were scared, and I was, too, because who knows what the future will bring?

I wish I could fix it- but here’s another thing I know: I can’t fix anything that involves another person that doesn’t want it to be fixed.

So, maybe… I do have life figured out. Or at least that part.

In all actuality, I don’t blame you. I never have, never will. Like I said earlier, the future? That’s scary. Graduating is scary. Going to college or the Army is scary. I can’t blame you for how you’re handling it.

But for a few weeks, I thought we could do it. Just so you know.