anxious-armadillo

[anxious-armadillo]

"Hey. When do you need to be back at your rig?"

Sleepy mumbling noises.

"No for real. What time do you need to be back? I don't want you to be late."

"When I tell you."

I laugh, and say, "Well, yes, but you can't tell me when you're asleep. And I don't want to be the cause of you not getting to where you need to be."

A sleepy smile curls across his lips and he tells me "I'm right where I need to be."

I can't help but smile. Giggle a little. And breathe a little bit of weight I've been carrying around with me for a lot too long, out in a sigh of relief.

I'm already up and showered and ready for the jaunt into town. But I melt back into bed for a moment before realizing I still didn't get an answer. I gently poke a bit more before he eventually tells me that he's not going to where he planned on going.

My eyes get big. I can physically feel the sparkle in them. "Really?? So...I can get out of these real clothes?"

I fall back into bed. I get to hold him a little longer. We laugh into the afternoon, before he starts getting dressed and I know what that means. It's time to part ways again. It is always bittersweet.

But this afternoon...something hits different. I go to grab my clothes from the bathroom, and when I come back, I see him fully clothed in daylight for the first time in a while. Blue jeans, tee-shirt, boots, jewelry, hat and the knife on his belt. Everything fits *just right*. And there is a brief moment where my brain just...stops. I'm awestruck, staring at him, standing there next to the door. How can one man look sooo good both fully clothed and also with nothing on?

Furthermore, how the actual fuck did I manage to catch his eye and ultimately his attention?

Rewind. To the night prior.

I get a message from him. I know he's out tonight. But sometimes I get funny little memes, or cute updates, while he's out. So, I open the message; "Hey. Would you come get me if I needed you to?"

The question catches me off-guard. I stare at it until my phone screen dims.

This is coming from a man who is horribly independent, private, rarely ever asks for anything, and certainly never that vulnerable to ask for something like that. The question itself wouldn't normally be strange or out of place had it come from literally anyone but him.

My heart, brain, and soul all for once sync up and simultaneously go..."Oh?!...This is big."

I respond and tell him, of course. But I'm not making a habit of it. Just call me when you're ready, let me know where you're at, and I'll be there.

I have to take a moment to process what REALLY just happened here.

He asked ME...to come get him when he's a little too fucked up to drive. I was the one he thought of...I was the one he called for "help"...there's a lot more to this than just merely asking for a ride. This is a vulnerable moment. That I'm included in.

I roll over in my bed, make sure my phone isn't set on vibrate like it normally is, make sure that sound is turned on so I don't miss the call if I fall asleep.

Around closing time, the message comes in. I put the minimum amount of clothing on that I can, to be considered socially acceptable in case I have to get out anywhere. I'm going to a place where I've only ever been once or twice, on already drunken nights, close to 7 years ago. But, I park where it feels right. Watch and laugh as a drunken couple stumble out of the bar. They're both leaning as they walk. So much so that it's making them walk sideways. They're both laughing though. I watch them both cross the street as the male half stumbles into a lamppost before twirling around it. I can't help but laugh. It's cute. It's lighthearted. It's fun. And they clearly enjoy each other's company.

My focus quickly shifts as soon as I see him. He's shirtless with a friend. His eyes catch my car, and he starts walking toward me, with a smile on his face. I wasn't entirely sure what I'd be walking into this time. But I can only laugh. My heart warms up a little, and I get excited simply just to be in his company.

I can already tell that his wildness is in full swing tonight, as he steps into my car.

"I need to get nicotine. So we're making a pit stop at the mini mart." We, surprisingly, walk into the store together. I'm hesitant to take him home with me. There is a part of me that wants to take him home to his house, tuck him in, kiss his cheek and take my sober-self home. But, we go back to my home. I tell him, "I'm not....I don't want to....I don't want to take advantage of you." In a nutshell, he reassures me that I wouldn't be.

He says such sweet things to me that night, or...early morning, rather. I'm glad I chose to stay home, stay sober, and be able to be there for him.

He thanks me, repeatedly, and explains all the things I already knew about his request; "I put you up here. It means I trust you with my life. Trust you with my safety. And to care for me." I giggle a little, simply because I feel like such a simple act and gesture, shouldn't demand or even request such a "Thank you", and it is so very sweet and wholesome.

But, he continues, explaining how it was hard for him to even ask. Because "I watched your ex call you so many times needing a ride. And you always went and got him because you have a good heart, and..."

My heart aches at this statement. I stop him. I tell him, "You're not him." I know he knows that. I tell him something to the effect "I would much rather you call me, than risk driving."

We stay up and watch another sunrise together.

We laugh. Oh my gosh, we laugh. We play. We listen to music. He plays songs I used to love. Some songs I used to play at the bars before we knew each other like this.

YEARS ago, our paths happened to cross in an unexpected way. For as much as I was drinking back then, I have very vivid memories of that particular night. For many different reasons. He tells me "I should've just taken you home that night."

I've fought many wars within myself over this very idea. I've wanted to scream about it. ALL THIS TIME...he was right there. We could've this YEARS ago??? Why? Why did it take so long?

But I've decided, my head, heart, and soul for once have agreed that...I wouldn't have known how to love him back then. With the downright infatuation with my (now) ex, had it not prevented me from trying with him, it most certainly would've ended up leading me to break his heart. And, knowing him now, that is something I could've never lived with doing.

No...I'm glad that isn't how things played out at the time. I really would not have been ready for him at that point. I could never have known how to love him the way I know how to love him now.

I have never felt anything like this...ever...not once in my life. And it's not even terrifying. In my whole life I've never not walked on eggshells, never walked on solid ground...and this feels stable...this feels wholesome and real. It feels like unshakeable solid ground. And it feels good.

[anxious-armadillo]

He looks me in the eye, and tells me, "You know my favorite part of all of this? You and me?"

I shake my head and say "I don't know. What?"

He tells me guess.

I just throw something silly out there, "My amazing snuggles?"

"No. It's that I brought your smile back."

I can feel my eyes widen. Lips curl into that exact smile.

No... he's right.

But he also brought life back into my soul.

Singing and drawing back into my life.

He brought love back into my heart when I wanted none of it.

He brought calm, peace, and presence back into my eyes.

Yes. He brought my smile back. But he brought so many other parts of me back that I thought were long dead and gone.

I'm so glad I didn't go out last night like I'd initially wanted to, and decided to stay home instead.

[anxious-armadillo]

Aphrodite, is this....is this what I think it is?

The early morning sunrise sheds light across his body, bringing out the hints of red in his facial hair and illuminating the little flecks of green in his eyes. I catch myself staring at him again in the glow. My brain doing the same thing it always does in these moments...wondering and wandering. Illegible and intangible thoughts and ideas that I cannot grasp or put words to. That I cannot even begin to try to comprehend.

It is pure, raw, untamed emotion that I feel...emotion that I cannot accurately describe. Emotion that no word could ever articulate or express with any form of clarity. It is all encompassing, overwhelming, and hits depths in my soul that I thought were no longer reachable.

And so, I stare. I freeze. My brain shuts down. The permanent racing thoughts, overthinking, bustle of my mind falls silent. I can't think.

This time in particular, I'm emotionally overwhelmed, I feel the tears starting to form. I feel the lump in my throat. But I hide the visible part of that emotion. At least I think.

Until he turns to me, where normally he'd smile and say "What?" This time he turns to me with a look of mild concern and asks "What's wrong?"

I tried so hard to hide it...I'm not supposed to be catching feels...at least not this deep. He reminded me of this a couple of weeks ago, and I retorted with, "No. We said no relationship. Nothing was ever stated about catching feels." So, this isn't a relationship. We agreed. Neither of us are looking for that. We agreed.

But why does it feel like I've known him my whole life? How can he read me like a book even when I'm putting my best fake face on? How does he know exactly what I need when I need it? Why the fuck do I instantly tear up when he asks me what's wrong? I know we said "No relationship" but why does it feel like we're building an everlasting foundation together in private? Away from the world? Away from influence? Just the two of us together creating, sharing, investing, and discovering something beautiful and potentially everlasting?

I...I was mad in the beginning...the whole time, he was right here. The WHOLE TIME...and I foolishly picked someone else...never even knowing what he had to offer. But, I understand now, I think.

I think that, had we embarked on this adventure any sooner, I would never have been able to fully and deeply appreciate him in the ways I can and do now.

I leave him in my bed in the morning. He leaves his pillow for me when he leaves. Makes my bed and locks my door behind him.

I get home, and I smile. Who am I kidding...I've been smiling all day.

Is this what.....is this what that is supposed to feel like?

[anxious-armadillo]

Smitten.

It's... in the way he smiles. The way we laugh together. It's him being unapologetically him, while I'm relearning how to be unapologetically me.

It's the silliness. The fun. The laid back, drama-free, two people finding comfort and fun in one another, and simply just existing together.

It's in his eyes. The way he ignores my gaze when I'm staring at him, wondering how I'm the girl who ended up with his attention and affection. The way he'll turn to look and me, letting me look into those deep brown eyes with hints of green around the outermost parts of his iris. Where if I'm lucky, I'll get to see then soften for a moment before he kisses me. Or, alternatively, he'll look at me, and I'll watch his lips part, twist into a smile, and his voice lowers as he says "Hey." Before his hand finds my throat, and his lips meet my forehead, my neck, or my lips.

In the distant past, one-night stands or, friends-with-benefits type scenarios, I was able to sleep with them without getting attached. But I never kissed them. I'd dodge kisses, or, subtly avoid them.

The first time... with him... the first thing he did was kiss me. And I knew in that moment, I knew right then and there, that I was hopelessly in trouble. But when you go so long without being kissed, and he comes in and kisses you hard... something activates in your brain. Oh? Oh. Oh! This feels. Oh my god. This feels. This feels good. This feels like magic. This feels pure.

I sneak him in last night, and he stays until the early morning before my kiddo wakes up.

I end up falling asleep in his arms... or at least tangled up in him. Legs locked together, bodies pushed against one another, I feel safe. I feel secure. I feel... peace, calm, and if I may be bold enough to say "love".

It's easy with him. There are no late-night/early-morning "Help me." calls. There are no "poor me" conversations. There are direct answers to direct questions. There is transparency. Consistency. I don't worry. I don't question motives. I get to exist beside another beautiful soul.

His pillow has been on my bed for about a week now. And as he wakes me this morning, fully clothed, I know he's leaving. He kisses me, and i give him "miss you" kisses in return. I must've plopped back down on the bed unintentionally pouty, as he reaches down to grab his pillow.

He looks at me, lifts my arm and head, and removes the pillow I was clinging to, and places HIS pillow beneath my head and wraps my arm around it.

I am... speechless, yet again.

How? How did I get so lucky to have such a beautiful soul, who's always been in front of me, re-enter my life in this way? What did I do to deserve to get this spoiled? I'd never want for him to change his plans for me... but it's heartwarming to hear him say that he's decided he doesn't need to go out 3 times a week to hang out, and instead he comes to spend time with me.

I don't care where this goes, or doesn't go. It's everything I could ever ask for in this moment, everything I've ever wanted, like really really wanted, and I'm going to live in this moment without expectation for as long as I can.

Maybe it evolves into forever, maybe it doesn't. But these moments will live in my soul forever.

[anxious-armadillo]

Oh Goddess,

The way his touch makes my entire body shake, the way his kiss makes it hard to stand, the things he does to my heart, body, mind, and soul. All at once.

It is overwhelming and intoxicating. But so, so good.

I tell him yesterday afternoon "I could really go for your kisses and snuggles right about now." I don't tell him why. I don't tell him that I'd seen his name come up at work. Nothing bad or horrible, but nonetheless, it made my heart sink and my heart race.

He tells me it's too hot.

I let it be. Left it alone. I guess he's right. Fine.

Later in the night, he asks if I'm alone. I let him know that I'm not, that my kids are home, but he could still stop by, and I could try to sneak him in.

He tells me tomorrow.

I tell him he's always making me wait, and it drives me nuts.

Feeling lonely, I decide to re-watch Yellowstone. A show I'd already obsessed over a few years back, and crushed on one of the main characters HARD. It wasn't until I started watching the series again that I had that "Aha! This all makes so much sense now" moment. This makes so much sense. The face shape, facial hair, lips, posture, they are all so similar.

It's 2:30 am when my phone rings. There's only one person who calls me at this time in the morning, so I don't even look at the number. I just answer the phone with "Hey."

He tells me he's at the mini mart just down the road from my house and to come outside if I want kisses.

I don't hesitate. I don't take time to think. My breath catches, and I hope he doesn't catch it, as I follow up with "I'm heading downstairs now."

"That's what I thought." He says.

Right about the time I get out the door, and around the corner I see him walking up the driveway.

We waste no time with pleasantries. I grab his face, and he kisses me hard. I bite his lip, and he bites back.

I'm fighting, trying not to lose control, but he makes it so hard when he grabs my hair, pulls my head back and kisses my neck. I bury my face in his chest and he guides my head just ever so slightly up to kiss my forehead.

I can't fight it anymore. I kiss him hard again, and he pushes me up against my car, and we kiss hard again. I'm savoring this moment. I'm trying to take this all in, and just enjoy this moment while it lasts, when suddenly a light comes on, and shines down on the both of us.

We stop, look up, and realize that the store sign next to us has suddenly, and randomly turned on.

We make eye contact and both laugh.

Perhaps mere coincidence... but my heart just can't help but feel like the exchange of such intense energy just caused this sign to come on.

I think he's magical, and being around him wakes up the magic inside of me.

We kiss a little longer before he tells me "Okay, now go back upstairs and go to bed."

I tell him teasingly "You're not in the bed, so you can't tell me what to do."

He smiles and leans in really close.

"But you're going to do it anyway."

I melt. And yet again, my breath catches.

He's right, again.

He leaves, and I go upstairs. I fall into my bed, sigh, and slip into a fantasy.

I don't want to lose him. I think I might want him forever. After having gone through divorce already, I've never wanted to ever get married again. And I might be bat shit crazy for even saying this, but if he asked, I'd marry him without a second thought.

I don't know if this is love, infatuation, or obsession, but whatever it is... it's different than anything else I've ever felt.

[anxious-armadillo]

I swear he is Prometheus' finest design. Crafted of only the finest clay he could find and sprinkled with quartz and crystal dust to make him shine.

And that instead of breathing life into him, Athena gently kissed him into existence.

Surely, and certainly touched by Aphrodite, herself.

Because there is no possible way that he has not been touched or at the very least, blessed, by the ancient Gods and Goddesses themselves.

There is no other explanation as to how perfectly crafted he is.

He tells me; "This...this is filling holes."

And I look at him, dumbstruck, because he's right. With both of us wrought with the holes that previous lovers had left in our hearts, minds, and souls...to come together to give the other what we'd been missing, whether we knew what we were missing or not.

I never wanted, or thought I'd be able, to love anyone ever again.

But a single, late evening, proposition turned into an "I'll sacrifice my sleep just to spend time with you."

I tell him he doesn't need to call before he comes over, that I would leave the door unlocked for him. His straightforward response catches me off guard; "It's called respect."

...Oh...oh, is that what that is? Is that what respect feels like? This is new and foreign. It feels like I've been carried away into a new world I've never seen before. It feels beautiful, sweet, wholesome, but unfamiliar and terrifying at the same time.

It is not something I'm used to. It fucks with my head and puts me on edge sometimes. I want this to last, and I don't want to do anything to jeopardize whatever this is.

Thank Goddess he's patient with me, because I have completely forgotten how to behave normally. Over the years I've become a mess of programming, a mess of overthinking, a mess of overanalyzing. A mess in general, because silence has always meant there's a storm coming...so I don't know what to feel when I don't hear from him. Do I send a message? Is that too much? Do I need to send a message? Should I leave it be? If I don't reach out, is the message I'm sending that I'm not interested? Does it matter? I should just leave it. Let him message me when he wants. I should just go about my life and invest my time in writing, drawing, reading, researching, or watching some of the shows he added to my Netflix watchlist. But oh, I think I'd rather listen to some music on YouTube, but because we listen to songs together, his music automatically pops up on my playlist, and I'm off in a daydream again.

Staring lovingly at the wall in my office, daydreaming or reliving moments in my head. I think that maybe that's when you know for certain that you're in trouble...when your mind wanders and you can't control the facial expressions that accompany that moment.

I really wish I could put to words how this all feels. I guess perhaps surreal is fitting. I guess that's about the only way to describe it. Or wholesome. Pure. Genuine. All the beautiful things.

Gods and Goddesses, please don't take this away from me.

[anxious-armadillo]

Mischief

Dear Aphrodite,

Did you send me something I've always wanted to reassure me that I'm actually doing something right in life?

The first time, I didn't think mischief would actually show up. I figured it would be like most guys who talk and talk but chicken out when they're given the opportunity to come and get it. But, lo and behold! Mischief shows up and turns my bed, you know...the one that I wasn't going to let anyone else into, into a playground.

We laugh. He kisses me mid-sentence. And I forget how to breathe. I forget how to speak. And before he leaves he tells me my 30-day Trial hasn't ended yet. It's been nearly 30 days...I've put a note in my calendar to ask him on day 30 if I have to subscribe to continue receiving services. I wonder if he'll remember saying that to me?

He's hard to read, Aphrodite. An enigma. A sweet mystery. Something that is waiting to be uncovered, discovered, and held.

He asked me "Why me?" and I'm honest with him. I tell him, well...I've always been curious about you, and I've always found you attractive. I guess I could've gone deeper and said, "From the second I saw you, I could see the playful mischief in your eyes, the hunger behind those eyes. The something beckoning to be explored." It's a look that I'm familiar with...the observer. The studier. The "there's something deeper behind those eyes that wants to be acknowledged." Something waiting and wanting to come out and play.

The difference is that this has never been a "scary", hidden true-self, persona type of hidden. It's a pure, real, "not all things need to be said" type of hidden.

We play a few more times. He comes into my bedroom at 2:00 AM the other night, and we laugh, we comfort, we share love, we share our bodies. We set ground rules early on; neither of us want a relationship, but neither of us are messing around with anybody else. Perfect!

But, isn't it impossible to catch feels??? I'm hooked. I've never...never had someone come into my life and know exactly how to treat me, without my saying a word. I know I'd shared with people that I wanted someone to come into my life, grab me by the throat and tell me I'm theirs...and...almost exactly how I'd imagined it, he gives me that.

Aphrodite, how? How does he know exactly what I want? How does he KNOW he knows exactly what I want? I am confused by this and can't stop staring at him...it frustrates me. And he picks up on that instantly to tell me; "What? I'm giving you exactly what you want?" Uh yeah. That's the problem. No one ever does that. No one. Ever. Even if I tell them. And here he is! KNOWINGLY, somehow. In ways that I cannot understand or comprehend.

We say no relationship, but as he leaves the last time, I tell him "Kay bye!" and he responds with "Love you, bye!" I am not sure what I hear...I'm not sure if he meant to say that...or if it just slipped out. In my perplexation I don't know how to respond...I don't know what to say. I freeze in confusion. Until he says a little louder "I SAID, I love you, bye." Oh. He did mean to say it..."I love you too, bye!" He comes back a little later and we fall asleep together for the first time. All other times we've watched the sun rise together (I've seen more pleasant sunrises in the last month than I have in a LONNNG time). And when I wake up in the morning, I kiss him before going to work for the day...and leave him peacefully resting in the bed I swore I wouldn't let anyone else into. I am sure glad he changed my mind.

He even makes the bed before he leaves. And he makes it exactly the way I usually make it.

Oh, Aphrodite...I'm in trouble, aren't I? I haven't felt like this...well, ever. It's different than anything else I've ever experienced.

[anxious-armadillo]

Calm down and do something you haven't done for a while.

I choose to sing. Music has always been important to my mental health, and at some point in time I really used to love singing. I decided tonight to sing again. I need to practice more. But it's coming back to me, and it feels good.

I think all the coldness in my heart is starting to melt and parts of the old me are coming back. All it took was a little spark. Reignition of old coals that were smoldering under the chill of the cold for so long.

Plus, it's too damn hot in this house to do much of anything else.

I feel my soul waking up again...it's a beautiful feeling. And hopefully not fleeting.

I feel like I'm waking up and coming back to life.

[anxious-armadillo]

My brain quits working.

My body trembles.

I know you're not supposed to kiss and tell, but my god, I can't get him out of my head.

He kisses me sweetly on the forehead before I watch his soft eyes shift to that of pure desire, and his hand wraps around my throat. I whimper and smile. Yes, please.

We laugh and play into the daylight and I'm enamored. I can't take my eyes off of him. I try to figure him out, but I can't. He is an enigma. Playful and passionate at the same time. And oh my god. How did we get here? And why not sooner?

I wasn't going to let anyone in my bed. But... I'm glad I did... what a wonderful night. A night I've been craving for some time now. I am a happy girl.

[anxious-armadillo]

I can't write.

Despite the storm brewing inside of me.

I can't write.

The cogs are sticky, and the oil's turned to sludge.

There are so many things I want to say, and so many different ways to say them. Yet somehow, simultaneously, there is not a single way to say anything I want to. There's nowhere to start.

Numb. My therapist asks me how I feel. "Numb." The answer is numb.

[anxious-armadillo]

And sometimes, I fuck up beyond repair.

When the anger and hurt morph into rage and get set on fire by alcohol... loneliness sets in, and I just want someone to touch me. To hold me. To kiss me. So that I can try to feel something, anything again.

Desperation isn't a good look on me. And combined with alcohol use, it turns me vile and uncaring as to what my appalling actions cost others... and myself.

I just wanted to try and feel something again.

I didn't.

I woke up in the morning thinking, "Oh no. What have I done?" Oh no... no no...I don't want to give the wrong idea or get someone's hopes up.

I justify these actions using my fear. My fear of ever letting anyone get close to me ever again. If I make myself undesirable, nobody will want me. Nobody will try to get close to me. Nobody will ever love me, and I'll never have to go through this deep type of heartache ever again.

I tell this to my therapist... who misses no opportunity to smile at me, as my face is drenched in tears, and tell me "I know you don't want to hear this... but you'll always be beautiful."

I swear he says this just to watch me roll my eyes and hear me scoff. Because we both laugh after that.

I'm a basket case.

I'm angry over all the years I've tried with you. All the fights, the screaming, the begging, and pleading with you to just be sober more often than not...

He tells me that it's okay to hold both love and hate toward the person I'd like to blame my actions on... if I didn't know better... I know my choices were made by me, I acted on impulse. Nobody forced me to do the things I did.

As much as I'd love scream; "Look! Look what you've turned me into. Look what you've made me do!" I've grown up enough to be able to step back and say, "No. Look what I did. Now I need to fix it."

It is too soon.

He... he messages me about an artist I shared with him... an artist I'd kept secret from him for the first few YEARS of our relationship because I wanted her for me. In my heart. Not him. Not us. For me. So, of course, that's the artist he inquires about after things have ended...

And I tell him.

I remember having a friend read our palms one night. She tells me what she sees in mine. She tells me that we both (he and I) have more lifetimes on this planet...

It's always been him. The him that is buried somewhere deep inside the cold, hardened, cruel creature he's become in this lifetime.

It's always been him who I've written about. He who haunted my dreams before I ever knew his name. He who brought my world to a pause the first time I saw him and every time thereafter. He who... was supposed to be everything he promised. The GLIMPSE of him, buried beneath the rubble and trouble... that him.

Not the creature he let himself become.

So when I tell him, maybe in the next life. I mean it.

Maybe in the next life I'll get to you sooner. Before life has the chance to break you down and turn you into something you were never meant to be.

Maybe in the next life, we'll meet before the cruel world has the chance to mold us in its image.

Maybe in the next life, we can make it work.

But this life... this one just isn't it.

But I know...I know and feel it so deep in my soul... in the next life, I'll know you. I'll know you just the way I knew you in this life. In some inexplicable way that just continued to make our paths cross... I will feel the pull. And I'll follow it back to you.

It's such a bizarre thing to look back to when I'd be coming home as a teenager or young adult, and Every. Fucking. Time. I would want to drive past my exit...I never knew why... but...I think I do now... that's where you were.

Until some hot, wealthy, buff silver fox comes along, grabs me by my throat, and tells me I'm his... here I'll be, hung up on you.

[anxious-armadillo]

TRIGGER WARNING.

And I've never wasted to die as much as I've wanted to in the last six months.

I've never considered myself having suicidal ideation, until the last six months.

Please don't ever let semi trucks be self driving, because the only thing preventing me from driving into them is the fear of traumatizing another human being and the possibility of somehow making them feel like it was their fault.

[anxious-armadillo]

I never crossed the line.

I tiptoed around it, I stood on the edge of it, screaming.

Back when everything in my life was falling apart.

Back when I'd come in late, and leave early in tears because of the fights that world drag on from the night before until 3 or 4 in the morning. And he'd know. Without ever saying a word.

Back when my heart was full of pain and poison, my brain full of rage and confusion. And I fought so hard to not perpetuate that in someone else.

Yes. I stood on that line. Put a wall of glass between us.

But, in all the games we played I never wanted more than the stupid games we played.

I told him. Before I opened up; don't fall in love with me. I can't love you back. I won't love you back. My heart, though chaos back then, knew that I was set on what I was pursuing. I was set on building this future with the man I thought I'd never find. He watched me give up so many times only to go running right back.

Maybe, all things considered he just couldn't see past the fact that despite all the similarities, I just wasn't the woman he associated me with. Maybe, all things considered, he held onto her through me and when the time came, losing my companionship was like losing her all over again.

Whatever the case, I used to joke with him and to him; it's just a spell. A charm. Something accidentally manifested.

I'd tell him I could break it.

And he'd tell me it was too strong to break.

It wasn't too strong to break, was it?

And though I never saw anything more than stupid games, though I made a point to stay on my side of the line, I never considered the emotional connections I was creating in someone else. I always kept myself in check. Pushed it, sure. But never crossed it. I guess I never considered the effect my words would have on someone else.

I guess I never considered what would happen when the time came to part ways or cut ties.

I watched out for myself, knowing, knowing that I've picked up the pieces of myself and walked away from a life I'd thought could be forever before, so I could do it again. Knowing that if I could do this one, two, three, four or more times, that I'd be tough enough to let everything go and keep on walking.

I never considered him, though.

I miss my best friend.

I miss my shenanigan buddy.

I miss my comrade.

I miss having someone to text at all hours of the day who would listen to me, and know me, and just... talk. About any and everything.

And not reaching out is hard. But I know it's for the best.

Not reaching out hurts, because this is a story I'd be telling him about, if it didn't involve us. This is a story we'd laugh about together if it were just me.

I know it's for the best. To just leave it alone. To just let it go.

I know.

I know.

I know.

But I still feel the sadness. The loss. The everything.

I still feel it.

But, our futures are much different and far distant from one another, now.

I broke it... the charm, the spell, whatever. Just like I said I would. Erased everything, and disappeared. Until one day I'll just be a ghost of a ghost in his memory. No more, no less.

And so it is.

[anxious-armadillo]

I thought I was romancing the devil himself.

But the devil, my darling, comes with guilty pleasure, lust, and the sweetest sin.

Now I watch death play Russian roulette over his bed. Being already dead, either way... for him, bullet or not, it's still a win.

I thought I was romancing the devil himself. As his presence once set my whole body on fire. But the devil is full of lies.. and everything the Reaper touches dies.

I've been calling them both by a different name,

Perhaps they're just one in the same.

[anxious-armadillo]

He gets up and walks to my kitchen. Looks down at the mess of broken petals, cracked leaves, and fuzz swirling around from the night before.

I feel his hurt in my heart.

I feel like he's looking at this in confusion trying to figure out what he'd said or done. And half of me truly believes his confusion. Half of me thinks he was probably still drunk and may not have any recollection.

Last night it felt rational. Last night it felt justified. Last night the tension from feeling things fall apart day after day, the tension from feeling the distance grow week after week... the weeks of taking hate, cruelty, and downright nasty meanness... with so little love... it felt rational.

It felt justified, to throw those flowers he brought to my work on the floor and watch them flake into a million pieces. It felt rational to flip out after he'd pushed me away from him then tried to leave in the middle of the night...

I broke.

I threw those flowers at his stuff through tears. I tossed the first rose he'd ever picked me at him and told him to take it, too, when he leaves.

I screamed. I cried. I asked him "What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you? Who else is there? Who else is getting your love if not me?"

He tells me; "Calm. You're destroying memories made through the years... in seconds."

I climbed back into bed, and cried harder than I've cried in a long long time. Anticipating him just to come inside from his cigarette, grab his belongings and leave, I clutched a pillow and cried silently.

But he didn't leave.

He came inside, took off his shoes, took off the pants I'd fused about him trying to sleep in, in my bed. He removed his shirt, and climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulled me into his chest, and held me tight for the first time in a long time.

And in the morning, he walked into my kitchen and looked at the mess of broken flowers on the floor in confusion.

I watch his head hang low. His shoulders drop lower. Initially I think he doesn't remember this happening. I think it's a lost cause. I'm not going to try and explain it.

But I watch his head hang, and a childlike let down wash over him, as he says to the floor, "You ruined your flowers..." he pauses for a moment before he straightens himself up as if some brilliant epiphany flashes before his eyes and says, "That's okay. I'll get you new ones!"

And in that moment... after feeling like we'd burned everything we'd ever had, this one little moment made everything come flooding back. Made everything feel like okay. We're not done yet. We can rebuild this.

He wasn't looking at those flowers in confusion because he couldn't remember what had happened. He was looking at those flowers, knowing, that everything he saw in that mess was everything he'd made my heart feel.

After years of saving the first rose he'd ever picked me, knowing how special, how important, how beautiful it was to me... it was the only thing I tossed delicately... he had picked it up at some point and put it on my dresser. Without a single missing petal.

And so we start again.

[anxious-armadillo]

Judy.

I'm not one for blasting specific details, as I prefer to keep things anonymous and respect other people's privacy. So some of these details have been altered.

A few years ago I began working in a department with one other person. He was considerably older than me, but we almost instantly hit it off as coworkers. I suppose that if you're going to be confined to a small room (indefinitely) with only one other person, you'd probably better do the best you can to develop at least SOME kind friendly relationship with that person, as working with strangers in close quarters is incredibly uncomfortable.

So, fast forward a couple years. We've had the time to get to know each other. We've shared stories of our past, present, and what we hope the future could hold. One day, he decides he's going to call me Judy.

I'm confused. I ask him, "Like Judge Judy?"

He says, "No. Not judge Judy. Just think."

This goes on for like two years.

I tell him, "Who the fuck is Judy?! I'm so confused and this is really frustrating."

And he'd always tell me, "One of these days I'll tell you."

Throughout this time, we've gotten to know each other quite well. Down to almost being able to read each other's minds. (Yes. It's freaky sometimes.) Now, there have been some rather personal questions asked.

Including, "Do you have a birthmark on your butt?"

Which...I don't have a birthmark, but I do have a very very large freckle that has always caught my attention when I'm getting dressed, and I was really taken aback when he asked me this question. Like... how did he know?

There were another number of questions that were asked as well. But, again, I'm omitting some details.

Today he asks me again, "Do you... believe in reincarnation?"

So I tell him, "Well... yes." Since that would make the most sense of every other 'after death alternative'. Then ask him "Why?"

This is where it gets bizarre...

He tells me that Judy was a old girlfriend of his. And that I look a LOT like her. That when I first started working there, and he first saw me, he had to do a double take.

He tells me, that once we started working together, that how I acted was very much the same way she acted/ behaved.

She also had a birthmark on her butt.

These all seemed like wild coincidences.

Like maybe she'd moved away and I was someone who just reminded him of her.

Until he mentioned she'd been in a terrible accident, and had passed away.

Here's the kicker; she passed less than 3 months before I was born.

Now I don't know how the flow of time works as you wait in line to be reincarnated... but, if I were to ever require proof to believe... this is it. And maybe whole souls don't reincarnate as one, but instead break off and join with other pieces of souls and hold hands through this human lifetime together. But...I think there might be a part of her, in me.

[anxious-armadillo]

Gosh, it's been a while.

Life gets chaotic and it's easy to get swept away in it.

But the next story is well worth writing about.