I mistake puddles for oceans and before I know it,
I'm having a drunken one night stand or changing my hair or rearranging furniture and deep cleaning my closets or starting a new project that I'll never finish in an attempt to disinfect my feelings that are crawling under my skin like the sand worm in Beetlejuice in an effort to get you off of my mind.
I need a new escape plan.
My dog will watch intently while he decides whether or not you are worthy of putting your hands on him.
This could take minutes or it could take months;
but he will never rush to his decision.
Once he has chosen you,
he'll spend every moment in your presence reminding you of his love and demanding yours.
He is the smartest 9 year old I have ever met.
I want to be more like him.
I on the other hand,
seem to be a big dumb dog who is stupid excited for a belly rub every time that way you look at me crosses my mind.
Mind shut off,
not caring how vulnerable I've just made myself.
Foreign, alienated.
Invigorated, yet settled.
None of the physics-defying devices that I've crafted over and over in my mind have been able to outrun those who have left my life.
I don't miss most of them.
Chronically allergic to human relationships.
That's what I've always described this "thing" that goes on inside of me as.
I've never lost a limb;
but I bet that's exactly what losing you would feel like.
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