Weary & Bleary Eyed.

The other day, I couldn't even hold it in long enough to write it down, I just spoke.  I rambled and rambled like a mad woman, clutching the phone in my hand with your number dialed, just daring myself to hit "call."  I recorded everything I said.  Most of it gibberish, hardly making sense, fragments of our past sewn together haphazardly by a neglected shrew.  I can't even count the number of times I have thought about calling you.  The number of times I've thought about what I would say, what you would say, if anything at all, and how it would feel to finally call you.  I know it will never measure up to what I want.  Never.  I will never get what I want from you, and that is what kills me and haunts me and makes me want to call you, but keeps from actually doing so.  Everything feels unfinished and it kills me that you don't feel the same.  Aren't you even the least bit curious?  No, you're not, answered my own question, didn't even need to pause for a reply, I just know, I always know, I don't even know what I ask or wonder, because I always know the answer, I always knew the answer and yet there I stood for 3 long years, 3 years of heartache and depression, just waiting and wondering and wishing, analyzing the tiniest look, the tiniest phrase.  I remember wanting to stay up until all hours of the morning, just waiting for you to call, there was always a chance that you would.  My first summer without you, my first summer without seeing you almost every day.  My first summer without even riding in your car, or speaking to you at all.  I didn't even hear your voice this summer, not once.  Not a phone call, not a confrontation.  And all I feel is numb.  I'm sick of blaming you.  I'm sick of blaming me.  I'm sick of blaming the world.  I don't know where else to turn.  There's still a chance of me seeing you, of me talking to you, of having some sort of encounter.  And secretly and quietly I hope there will be one.  Secretly and quietly I picture it in my mind.  Colorado does not approach fast enough.