?????
I've always considered myself to be a floater. I was never really someone who had a place they belonged.
Everyone else had a set group of friends, a set schedule, and a set lifestyle. I wasn't really one for routine. Sure it was fun sometimes, but it often led to heartbreak. Actually, in my life, all roads lead to heartbreak.
I was just one of those people who didn't want to be tied down; I didn't want to be that constant in someone's life they eventually grew tired of. I knew I wasn't the type of person anyone would want to settle for; the type of person anyone good hearted would lust after. Those were the ones I always wanted, the ones that would treat me well and love me like I wanted.
Actually no, that was the type of person I needed.As much as I hated constants, I think deep down I would have loved to have someone standing by my side through all my hardships; someone who would catch me when I was a leaf floating through the winds of sorrow with no purpose, wallowing in my self pity. I wanted someone who would reassure me that when I worked myself up over something petty, it wasn't nothing. It mattered. I mattered.
I needed someone to tell me I mattered.
It's so easy to just lose yourself in your own thoughts, to let those high pitched voices in the back of your mind take over your body and do rash things. It was so easy to just take a quick vacation from reality, only to find yourself broken on a cold bathroom floor surrounded by the shards of your destroyed life.
It would take days, sometimes even weeks or months, to find myself after that.
It was like I had taken away everything that made me me and locked it in a secret drawer, hiding the key in a drunken stupor. I was so dumb when I fell under these spells, I just wished I still had the one person that was ever able to help me through it.
I had only known him for a short time, a summer's length at best, but it might have been a greatest time of my life.
It could have even been a love story fit for movie screens, complete with cheesy pick up lines and a tragic backstory. Of course he was the perfect prince anyone would fall for, so that was a plus. I enjoyed his company, his smile whenever he would crack a bad joke, the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at me, how peaceful he looked when he was sleeping.
God, I miss him.
Our relationship had been perfect. He had been understanding and forgiving of all the quirks and disasters that came with me, and I had tried to love him as best I could.
And I honestly did love him. But you know me, I don't like constants.
So I ran. I ran as far away as I possibly could. I didn't even say goodbye, just packed my bags in the early morning and hopped on a train across the country. I knew I was an asshole, that he never deserved it.
I still don't know why I did it. Was I scared? Why was I running? He was the one time I actually felt happy and whole, like there was enough of him to fill the parts of myself I had ripped to shreds. I left the parts of him he gave up when I left, and now all I had was his old t shirt I had been sleeping in the morning I left.
I often wonder what would happen if I went back to him. Did he ever miss me? Lay awake at night thinking of me? Had he moved on?
Once I even got a ticket to go back. It was an impulsive decision, but I had decided my life as a nomad was done for, I would go back, and I would finally have a constant.
But at the last minute I chickened out. I realized what a fool I had been to show up again after all this time, expecting him to take me back with open arms. I already had my one true shot at happiness and I had given it up.
I knew the place where I belonged, but I swore to never return.
