Awaking from bad dreams
You had on headphones attached to your radio. They were the kind that are supposed to cancel out all noise, but evidently didn't because you spun around when you heard him say hello to me. I continued to talk to him about really trivial things like his band and PBR and that orange-flavored cream ale I was so fond of every Monday night all summer. You ripped off the headphones and asked when I'd stop. The dream ended right there. I felt weird and pulled myself into your warmth.
I had a dream about you back before I knew you and the air conditioning made my bones shiver. In it, you came out of the mail room and asked if I had any other prospects other than you. At the time, I did. Now, not so much. But it's like the ghost of the two weeks that I did aren't going away. Is it guilt? Is it that I still want that freedom? I'm really not so sure.
I think the only reason I'm so defensive is because I'm absolutely into you and when you don't seem to believe it I just want to scream that I had the option of not choosing you in the first place. "He wrote a song for me! Look how lucky you are!" I want to exclaim until you say "thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you" over and over again.
Of course that's assuming I think I deserve something great. Well guess what? For once in my always-hoping-for-the-best shell of a life, I think I do. And you are great. Even when you're impatient with me and ask how old I am. It's all in the subtle ways you express yourself and every time the softness shines, my own insides melt even more. I don't think you're fucked up and I don't think you're a fuck up either.
I told you last time you should trust me. When you left this morning, I had the endless option of discovering all your secrets. But I didn't. I'm not so sure if that means you do now but considering the possibility of it prompted me to celebrate the quiet victory in my heart the entire drive home.