Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want.
Ed Sheeran’s voice swoons me one way – to the stereotypical, media-induced love we all want – and the nagging, annoying voice in my head pulls me another.
It’s different being with you and being apart. It’s different as in…I want different things, as if I’m not in the same state of mind when I’m with you and when I’m not.
I’ve been up since 6:30, having to drive my sister and mother to the train station for work. I would have gone back to sleep but I brewed coffee and started reading, being scheduled to work at nine today but receiving a phone call saying the rain influenced the lack of need for my presence.
And so here we are, Lykke Li playing on my speakers and I’m just waiting for the book store to open.
I don’t think I know exactly what I want. I’m not sure I ever really do.
Being an indecisive Pisces by nature doesn’t assist in any way either.
Why did the idea of love change from the sixteenth century? Why did we let it change?
Maybe it hasn’t – possibly, it was for the better.
Being sold off by my parents to a man ten years my age just to bring the family fortune and seniority would break my heart.
So I suppose I’m asking; what is the real thing? Why do we let ourselves get screwed around just to relate our tales to songs and receive sympathy from eager pals waiting to hear the juicy details?
Everyone says “You’ll know when it’s the real thing because it’s indescribable.”
And I’m all like, “Man, that’s BS, but thanks for the fortune cookie advice anyway.”
I want to kiss you and hold your hand and wrap my arms around your shoulders when we’re together but is that just longing to feel something? Is that just me trying to block out loneliness and the annoying Tumblr posts that twelve year old girls reblog, not even understanding the above mentioned “real thing”.
|1.||unhappy as a result of being without the companionship of others: a lonely man|
|2.||causing or resulting from the state of being alone: a lonely existence|
|3.||isolated, unfrequented, or desolate|
|4.||without companions; solitary|
We endlessly complain about wanting to be in relationships and we tweet lyrics from beautiful love songs but I see words from the same person one day about wanting to be wild and crazy and the next day they state they want “true, satisfying, honest ‘love'”.
What the fuck are you even talking about? It drives me insane.
I’ve attempted to delete my Twitter (again) a couple of times but I seriously just want the memory of how hilarious I am in fifty years.
Wow, that came out way more selfish and cocky than I intended.
I suppose I’m just hoping for the apocalypse, or for the day when every computer and technological device breaks down and no longer works so that I have a good reason not to give a shit about other people’s sad lives. Like Y2K.
And so the moral of the story, folks, is what I think I want today will never, ever, be what I want on any other day.