jfkennedy:

Sometime between now (or weeks ago) and the last day of my life I’m supposed to move on. Something I can’t say that I’ve accustomed myself to doing in my life so far. I still have an old MacBook sitting somewhere in my room that died back in 2007. I don’t need, nor is there a need for it in my room, but I can’t let it go, much like the memories of nearly every person I’ve ever felt a semblance of emotion for.

A week ago (and this is putting myself out there) I texted and talked to someone for the first time. I thought it went alright. I haven’t heard from them since, and haven’t really been too concerned. Part of me wondered why it was no big deal to me to be disregarded so fast, and part of me knew. Trying to replace people with people can be like putting air in a jar and saying it’s full. You think it worked but no matter how many times you turn it upside down and side to side it still looks empty.

When I was younger my mom would ask me things, and not wanting to bother her I’d say no. And then she would inquire further and ask me, “are you sure,” and I would say that I was. Maybe once more for good measure she would repeat it and I’d still say, “I’m sure,” knowing that I felt the opposite of the answer I gave her. I didn’t/don’t like troubling her, and that feeling has snuck its’ way into the transient thing that is my ‘love life’. “Do you want me to love you?” “No, no, I’m fine.” A few “you sure?“‘s and a few, “yeah” responses. But you know, maybe I’m not sure.