August 12, 2018
Robbie texted me to tell me that he mailed me a shirt. He wants me to wear it and post a picture onto his bands Facebook page.
I told him I was watching Elizabethtown and was just thinking about him right that moment. He texted me back that it was his intuition…
We texted for a few; generic, non-commital nonsense. I told him to have a good night. He then told me that he missed me. My heart pounded. I told him I missed him, always. Then I burst into tears.
I feel like I have something perfect for me that I need and it’s on a shelf right in front of me but I can’t touch it. Its just out of my reach, this happiness. I can’t bring myself to talk about it with him. I told him over and over last year how I felt, when I was crazy.
All I can do it pass by and look and hope that someday, magically, I’ll be able to touch it.
So here I sit on my bed on a Sunday night, 47 years old, bawling my eyes out over a guy.
“I have recently become a secret connoisseur of last looks. You know the way people look at you when they believe it’s for the last time…? There’s one right now”