the weekend
12:05 PM
I’ll book a flight to our little wonderland for a weekend. You will pick me up at the airport and we’ll recreate a scene that really only happens cheesy movies. You will give me a beastly hug, wipe my hair out of my face and give me a kiss - this will all happen in slow motion. You’ll tell me how much you missed me and i’ll say “i bet you did” with a smirk. You will never let go of my hand. I will spend the first hour getting a little less anxious about this burst of impulse. I’ll look you in the eye and everything will feel unreal, I will imagine Green Eyes by Coldplay playing on the background.
We’ll have sushi for lunch, i’ll joke about monkey brains. I’ll tell you how much i miss walking through that Mystical Avenue and remind you about firetrucks, baseball bats and the black corset. I’ll tell you how nervous i was when you introduced me to your friends, so nervous i didn’t know what else to do but pretend i needed to leave then just walked away. You’ll laugh at every joke and smile at every confession i make. You’ll make some confessions yourself, like how you hated the fact that frankenstein had his arms wrapped around me when i said goodbye and how you wished you told me the truth before i left.
When it gets a little dark, we will walk back to your new apartment. My insecurity will kick in just like it always does when things start feeling a little more intense. I will ask if you ever brought a girl up before me, you will answer with a kiss on my forehead “they don’t matter, you’re here”. I will feel a little odd and think about how you probably just want me wrapped around your finger, but then i will notice that you’re still looking at me with so much care and sincerity, you will squeeze my hand for assurance, give me another kiss and tell me how much things are different with us. Something about this will still feel off, a nasty voice in me head will keep on saying “you’re just this weekend’s plan”. I will tell myself to snap out of it. I don’t. I will tell myself to get over it. I can’t. I will then, tell myself, “he’s holding your hand now. he’s yours right now. all yours. they don’t matter!”. I say this to myself about three times, and then the insecurity will fade away. Slowly.
We will walk into your new loft and you will grab us a few beers. Stella Artois, our favorite. We’ll hang out in your patio and talk about life. I’ll tell you about my first heartbreak and you’ll tell me about yours. We will try not to compare each other to the past and not to get jealous. We’ll make an agreement to leave all the baggage behind even for just a weekend.
You’ll tell me how you always think of me every time you see a girl with long, dark brown hair. You will confess that you never wanted me to forget you. I’ll make more confessions about how much you hurt me - while keeping a straight face on, trying not to get emotional - when you pretended nothing happened between us. You will tell me all about those nights you just wanted me back just for a chat but you were too scared to try. “What’s the point? you’re a thousand miles away, it would’ve never worked out. That’s too much effort”. Upon saying this, you will realize how wrong you were, then you will apologize. I’ll tell you it’s okay because i understand, even though i honestly never really fully understood. I’ll look at you while telling myself how grateful i am to have somebody like you in my life. I’ll tell you how you make me feel and how utterly addicted I am to that high. I’ll tell you how much you gave me hope and how much i love the fact that you always proved me wrong. You’ll kiss me and tell me how you’ve always known there was something special about me from the first time.
We’ll get high, make-out, watch Clueless and fall asleep in each other’s arms. I will wake up every 2 hours or so and feel how unreal everything is, you lightly carress my bare back and i will snap out of it. This is real. He is mine. I am here. Then i fall back to sleep again. We will wake up at 2 in the afternoon with smiles on our faces.
We’ll drive to Denny’s, and this is the part where i’ll stay quiet. I will look at the clock and the dashboard and start counting how many more hours we have left. You will pretend you don’t notice, but it will sting as much as it will do to me. You will keep on reaching out for my hand to kiss my palm, my fingers and then the back of my hand exactly in that order. This will just sting a little bit more until a lump will slowly form in my throat.
You will drive me back to the airport and we will both stay quiet. Neither of us will talk about anything but our hands will still be intertwined. You will just stare at me with those piercing eyes. We will know exactly what we want to say to each other - in fact, we’ve always known - but we just couldn’t bring ourselves to say it out loud. We will both know. We will just settle with holding hands and knowing looks instead of words and closure. I will walk inside that plane feeling a little less dead than when i walked out of it just a day before.
We can never be the people we want each other to be. A weekend or a few days together will feel like a fairytale but we both know how it will all end. We can make agreements and talk about the damage that has been done to us, but it will always feel like it’s never enough. Our baggages will outweigh our affection, in the end. We both know we will never work out. ”The broken can’t fix the broken”, they say. You can talk about how i am worth the fight, the wait or whathaveyou but we both know you can never win that war, and you’ve never been that patient - There will always be some other girl with long dark brown hair. I can talk about how addicted i am to the way you make me feel, but i will always be more addicted to the high freedom gives me, i will never want to be in just one place, confined, committed. I will always look for more and more and more and more. More than you are ready and willing to give me.
We will always love each other, but never quite enough.
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