come talk to me

 My mind, oh how it buzzes

I am thinking faster than I can process

The caffeine makes words swirl furiously around in my brain, like a gas chamber with those molecules bumping into each other, the pressure is rising, I can feel it behind my eyes.
 
I don’t know what I want besides not being alone. Alone is a horrible thing because then I only have myself to deal with. Other people pull me into the real world, where I like to be. Mostly. Usually.
 
He is sweet and kind and I understand his brain. That intuitive feeling is secure. I trust him even if I don’t always like him. I think I am jumping into things because I don’t like to be alone. No, I know I am jumping into another relationship because I miss David and I can’t have him realistically, ever. So the best way to cope is to focus on someone else, to not have quiet weekend nights looking at his texts and his face and remembering his smell and what morning sex felt like.
 
This is probably a self destructive tendency. But is it worse than housemate, who is terrified of any relationship, lest he get hurt?
He talked about it like it was too much time commitment, too much drama, whatever.
But the truth is, his last lady hurt him a lot.
And for someone who is already so cautious and tentative, it will probably be years before he trusts someone enough for that. I think that’s okay, but I also think relationships are learning processes and you’re gonna mess up a bunch before you know what you want out of one, what kind of person you want to be with.
I think he is limiting himself.
 
I am not one to talk, I am afraid of many things, but relationships are not one of them, anymore.
I like to hand out my love freely, few men can capture my attention completely although I am always loyal, always honest.
To me, more often than it should be, men are like shoes.
I know many people have made this comparison, but sometimes it feels so true.
Some look beautiful on in the store and you get home and they give you horrible blisters and you never wear them again, or sometimes you do because they are so cute and continually endure the pain, sometimes until you bleed.
Some are sort of plain, but oh so comfortable and you learn to love them.
Some you just fall in love with, they are cute and comfy, and sometimes 6 months after owning them they fall apart because you wore them so much.
I’m sure there are many other types.
But the worst thing about me, is that I get bored easily, shiny things constantly catch my eye, although I always feel a guilty loyalty to my closet.
I am a wandering mind, constantly changing focus.
Unsure of each person I meet as much as myself.
 
love and woodpeckers
phoebe