All I could do was sit and think.
The problem is, I really couldn’t. I tried, but I was far too lost to come to any conclusions. I didn’t want her. I knew that. There was too much sitting behind us. Too many moments overshadowed anything else. Everything else.
So why did I do it? Why did I even care?
Who she is, who she’s with, how she lives…None if it pertained to me, and that was my decision. A decision I made years before this. And I was fine with it most of the time.
Except those other times.
I sat quietly, my dog at my side. Tired, comfortable.
Love has layers. Levels.
I was starting to fear that I however, did not.
I wondered if my pup even knew what state I was in.
It was a punch in the gut to sit and realize that no woman I’ve ever been with would ever have me back.
I suppose in the end that was fair.
My words somehow fell short. They were sharp, and always seemed to stab someone whether that was my intention or not. My mind was barbed, my heart was bruised, my soul was broken.
I kept thinking in circles, unfinished thoughts digressing into unwarranted scenarios, spinning into a deep dark hole I had little energy to try and crawl out of. The fear of making the wrong choices in life. The fear of throwing away everything for an unknown future with no plan, no endgame, no strategy.
If my life was an ad campaign, nobody was buying, and the client would have fired me.
I saw her. Her choices. I saw her life in an instant. I saw him put his arm around her back in a comfortable, familiar way.
The way we never could.
I still went home and bent a nobody-in-particular over my dining room table, but I was thinking about her.
She, however, wasn’t thinking about me.
And that was what bothered me the most.
And that’s why I could do nothing but sit and think, while some stranger slept in my bed.
And I wasn’t talking about Miss nobody-in-particular.
I woke up with a more familiar stranger every morning.