Last night, I spent a few hours with Isaias. I treated him to dinner because, as I said, it was the least that I could do. We had a wonderful evening. I always have wonderful evenings when he is there; no matter what we do, the memory of his presence gives me something to smile like an idiot about while drifting off to sleep. I stayed out late, far past my curfew, because I was too busy muttering all of the things I love about him between kisses to go home. My priorities are askew and I have no desire to change that. As much fun as I have kissing him for very immoderate amount of time, however, I need to listen to him talk more. About himself, about anything really. I love learning about this wonderful boyfriend of mine. I love learning about anything that crosses the mind of this wonderful boyfriend of mine. No matter the relevancy, I more or less hang onto his every word.
Later on, when he said, "If you fall asleep, I might be forced to cuddle with you," I wished for a moment that I could have. But I cannot think about things like that because it's so soon and I cannot let myself get too involved too quickly. That's how I get hurt. I always find a way to get hurt, but I'm determined to do everything I'm capable of to keep this wonderful thing going. I would not easily forgive myself for ruining something like this with someone like him. I just... I am at a loss for words when I think about him. The only thing I know is that I could never get enough of how I feel when he smiles in the middle of a kiss.
Tonight, I spent time with Taylor after work. We watched Pitch Perfect and ate at Panera Bread, and we talked a lot about relationships. I wish I knew what to say to Taylor when she talked about how she felt. She talks of loneliness and empty wishes, and I wish I could change it for her. Taylor has her flaws just like anyone else, but she still has so much good in her. I wish someone else would see it too, someone whose opinion mattered in a differently than mine. I know it's different to hear compliments fall from the lips of someone who wants to kiss you than from one of your friends. I want her to find someone. When I talk about Isaias to her, she smiles and asks me questions, but I think she does so because she knows I like it when she does. I want her to find someone that she wants to ramble endlessly about because it's a lovely feeling when you meet someone like that and all you want to do is tell the entire world how great he is.
Taylor deserves to be loved. I hope that she finds someone soon, even if it's not the one she ends up with, who gives her a little taste of what that feels like. Personally, I've never been in love, but I'm sure it's something that changes you. I'm sure that, just as it has the potential to ruin you, it can also help you realize things about yourself. She doesn't need to change who she is, but she needs to change her perspective on who she is. I don't want her to be the type of person who gives up hope for love at such a young age. It makes me sad that she doesn't think she's valuable enough because I really do love her. Ideally, I wish she'd realize her value on her own, but that is not happening. Friendship can only do so much damage control.
While I was waiting at a stoplight on Wabash today, I glanced over at Coffee Grounds, and I saw Colin and a friend stepping outside. Colin was wearing the flannel he always wears, and as he stopped on the stairs leading to the upstairs apartments to smoke a cigarette, I felt like I was watching my own memories play in front of me. So many times I stood on that same stoop with him as he smoked those same cigarettes in that same flannel. He put his Jones soda on one of the stairs, that blue flavor he loves, and I remembered all of the times we read the bottle cap fortunes to each other. My life has changed entirely since the countless nights I spent sitting outside of Coffee Grounds listening to people discuss politics or sex or anything at all. Driving home with the windows down listening to "Time to Pretend" by MGMT. Texting Colin "drive safely" and timing my route home perfectly so I could leave at the last possible moment (11:52, always).
I give no thought to that little slice of downtown when I drive by it anymore, and those berry lemonade sodas don't have the same appeal that they used to. I continue to think about that moment, though, because it irks me. I have moved on from that phase of my life, and all of the things about those nights have little meaning to me anymore. I am so different than who I was when I signed that brick inside the building, and I am certain that, naturally, Colin has changed a lot too since we last talked. That's what life does. But that moment I witnessed will stand in contradiction of reality. That brief and probably insignificant flash of just another Saturday night with just another cigarette in his hand is a perfect representation of the Colin that is frozen in my mind. Isn't that strange how this commitment to memory defies reason?
I have to get up early, and I should be sleeping.
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