Big Wide Smile :D ; Skippy Lil' Steps

It will hurt when you hear someone say his name and they ask you how he is. Or when you remember the first time, each time, and the last time he told you that he loved you. It will hurt in the middle of the night when all you long for is to be wrapped in his arms once more. Or when you drive past all of the places he took you to - coffee shops, restaurants, museums, bookstores. It will hurt when you’re at that particular bookstore and you come across the book he promised you he’d read, but never got around to. It will hurt when you re-watch movies that you saw with him, especially, when all you can think about was how he never let go of your hand the entire time. It will hurt when “your song” comes on the radio or when you’ve had too much to drink and the only voice you want to hear is his. It will hurt when you stumble across the letters he wrote you. Every word will sting, but, you try to convince yourself that at the time, he meant it. You’re not ready to tell yourself otherwise. And that is okay. You will be okay.

As interns, we know what we want, to become surgeons and we’ll do anything to get there. Suffer through killer exams, endure a hundred hour weeks, stand for hours on end. In operating rooms you name it we’ll do it. The but though is reconciling this huge thing we want to be surgeons with everything else we want.
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Too often, the thing you want most is the thing you can’t have. Desire leaves us heartbroken. It wares us out; It can wreck your life but as tough as wanting something can be, the people who suffer the most are those who don’t know what they want.

When you come home tonight, I will not be there. On the sideboard there is a note that says “I am tired of wearing my heart on my sleeves for you, I’ve taken it back.” Look, it’s exhausting to love you like this. I would have stood outside for you if I knew you’d pass by to open the door for me but my fingers are cold and you’re just standing at the window trying to decide if you can be open enough to let me in. I don’t know if you can or know how but I know that my hands are tired of reaching to empty spaces. God, it’s not okay for you to love me when it’s convenient or when you’re not busy. It’s not okay for you to not try because you know I’ll be waiting there for you anyway. It’s not okay because your cold is seeping into me and I used to be throbbing once, I used to be a fire. I don’t know how to give less of myself to someone. I don’t know how to be half full or half feeling so when I said that I would have stayed with you, I meant it. I don’t want to have to be anything less than I am but I can’t stay with you anymore. Your arms are perpetually folded. Mine can’t reach far enough to keep us both warm. I’ve tidied your clothes. I’ve left you milk in the fridge, but I won’t pick up your calls anymore. I’m closing the door gently behind me, I’m not coming back, I have to look for something warmer.