Dates = Effort

I have a date tomorrow.
I’m nervous.
I’m second guessing.
I’m sad.
I want it to be you.
I hate that about you.
And it’s not.
Thank God it’s not.
It’s never going to be.
I made certain that it’ll never be.
Because it’s not meant to be.
And I’m sad this is the way it has to be.

So I’m going on a date tomorrow.
Putting myself out there again.
I’m making the effort.
Our dates were never an effort.

If you ever read this

If you ever read this,
I want you to know
I think what you’re doing is great.

If you ever read this,
I want to say
I think we could’ve done better.

If you ever read this,
I want you to understand
it hurt me to care about you.

So if you ever read this,
know that I miss whatever we had.
And I compare every date to whatever we had.
And I pray to God someday I find something better than whatever we had.

And lastly,
if you ever read this,
I’d love to know your thoughts.
But I bet you’ll never read this.


What am I feeling?
Like I’d rather be singing WICKED right now than dealing with these thoughts.
Sad. Annoyed. Happy. Pathetic. Wistful. Annoyed again.
Ok maybe mostly annoyed?
Try again.

I love Facebook.

How did I get here?
How in God’s name
did I stumble through the Internet
to wind up here.
How the hell 
did you go from reading about 
non-exempt vs. exempt employees 
to feeling butterflies in your stomach 
and catching your grinning?

Fuck you, Facebook.