The title of this article will play out in different ways as we wind our way to the bottom of this page. In our first instance, there's so much we shared, yet so little we know. There's so much that was left unsaid or undone. These missed moments can never return. It's not worth the energy to try and figure out how things might could possibly maybe be different had I just said, done, not said, not done, something, nothing, anything.

It doesn't matter. The last three girls I've known, and the last 10 guy friends I've had, they are gone. Was it me or them who left? Either answer gives the same result, and we won't waste the time to go through that. Rewind, this whole line of thinking started when I met that girl on the beach. She and I shared an unreal 4 days. Those are rare days for me, and I cling to them tightly. But I don't want to be the abominable snowman from bugs bunny who calls him George and he pets him and hugs him and loves him and squeezes the shit outta that bunny. It doesn't matter how nice the snowman may be, his actions and smothering behavior are a turn off, and no one wanted to be around him. Overbearing love is not real love.

I don't know what it means to be special to someone else, to be another's special someone. I experienced this once and it broke me into tears upon the realization that someone cared for me much more than I cared for them. Once I realized it was fading because of what I did (or didn't do), I wanted it to stay. I was hurt when it didn't, but in hindsight it is apparent why it faded. I didn't care, I wasn't ready, and I still wanted to sow my royal oats. So, I fucked off. But it was difficult at first to come to grips with the consequences of what I'd done. I'd pushed someone away. That was the last time I went on vacation with a girl.

How long does it take to work through and process the information flowing and raging from the depths of mind and drowning out the present moment and dragging me from left to right, to and fro, couldn't stay and couldn't go? It takes what it takes, keep going. I'm trying so damn hard to forget, the memories jump back up and show their little heads; it's the whack-a-mole game in my head with some thoughts.

Let's just throw it out there and get through this shit. I will emerge from the other side different than when I entered. I straight up broke my own heart. I unknowingly gave it away. That girl tricked me! She played me! I was sitting there all innocent, and she just gives me this look like she absolutely wants to kiss me. While I was busy kissing the girl, she walked her fingers to my heart and grabbed hold, or was it me who took it out and laid it at her feet. Either way, it got left there. She carried me away, and I didn't notice how deep it was getting until it was too late.

I am jealous of this woman. This lady right here, that one. She got me fucked up in the head. Today, I am better. I'm not good. I'm just a little less bad. I let this happen, it's on me. I must take a moment to apologize for my actions that followed our meeting and courting (that was me who was courting). I apologize for putting pressure to keep something going that didn't exist in the first instance. I never want to be a burden, least of all hers. When I tell people about my struggles and challenges, I feel like a burden. I hold this inside because it doesn't add to the lives of others. If my words are not additive, then I must refrain from speaking them. Avoid trifling conversation and speak only that which may benefit others or yourself. My thoughts of death and dying are primarily seen as needing help. I don't need your help, I need your understanding, I need your support, I need your friendship. And a big ol' fuck you to those who don't understand and those who don't care enough to stick around. I'm not a total mess, just messy parts that are sometimes hidden and sometimes on the surface. Be kind and have patience with me. I am working through my own stuff, and I don't need your help to figure myself out.

The sun also rises on Tuesdays. The sun also rises every other day. And now it's dawn, and the dawn of day brings with it the possibility of new, new people, new places, new nouns. Let's laugh a bit together. I attended a bunch of AA meetings a couple years ago, and there's this saying about changing the default life to make it easier to stay away from situations where drinking and using happened. It's people, places, and things. Triggers that can lead to relapse. We are taught in school that nouns refer to people, places, and things. Why don't we just say those anonymous people need new nouns?

This feels like the part of summer where you make my dreams come true. As the summer continues and your journey continues, you will find joy in the moments, brightening each room with your smile, filling hearts with joy as you cast your gaze. I wrote so much already on the topic and to go back now and rehash those thoughts and memories feels less significant today. The distance between us grows each day. The wounds are scabbed, and the scars are forming, and the permanence of those feelings will be nothing but a scar with a story behind it. There is beauty in the permanence of death, the permanence of the scars, and the interwoven, inseparable effects of self on self and others on self and scars as they reflect from self to self (if you followed that, kudos).

Just now, my heart skipped a beat, and it was you who was present when the beat stopped. Here's why: Give someone a book, they don't read it; suggest a song, they don't listen to it; suggest a movie, they don't watch it; suggest a blog; they don't look at it; write them a novel, and they don't read it. Thank god she doesn't read my shit. Fuck that noise. But it's here if you ever feel like you want to know me more. I might be crazy, but that's better than being boring. Realization, I want to be a part of her life, but she doesn't want me as a part of her life, and she doesn't want to be a part of my life. I ain't that special or significant.

I just write. I think and I write. That's my day job, and it's who I am. I enjoy the process of writing and learning from myself. I can teach myself about myself by writing of myself. It's already over in my head. I must tell myself such extreme a situation to kill the hope. Fuck the hope. Hope leads to disappointment. By working in extreme self-talk, it doesn't hurt as much when the situation turns out different from what was hoped. I say all this and still find myself in the situation of hoping there will be a great relationship at the end of it all. I'm getting tired of stacking up friends that I've fucked. In my experience, sex ruins friendships. But this is probably all my fault because I get attached. Sex is physical and emotional, and unless that's what one does as a profession, why just give it away? So, I stopped having sex friends. Lately, I've stopped altogether because it will inevitably lead to a situation where someone is hurt. I say it's inevitable, but that's not true. Building on trust and honesty, a physical relationship can be just that. It takes communication, the removal of doubt and false expectations.

I am genuinely shocked that you don't hear how beautiful you are at least twice each day. As you open your beautiful eyes in the morning, I'd be there to kiss you sweetly and whisper how beautiful you look in the morning. As you lie down in the evening, I'd be there to kiss you sweetly and whisper how beautiful you look in the evening. Who will be there during the times you previously spent alone? Who will be there when I return home? Who will be there when the rain is pouring outside, and the convertible isn't the best solution, so we decide to stay in the house and snuggle up together to watch the rain fall and hold each other and smile and laugh together?

The most significant word is "together". This word says it all, and it brings me to the brink of emotion when I consider what it could be together. I know what it is to go it alone, I don't know what it is to go it together. Every time I walk myself out with logic, I get pulled back by emotion. I am brought back to the same conclusion every time. You are the most wonderful woman I have ever met. I try to talk with logic to justify that it's not her, but that anyone would have done. I cannot get to that answer using anything I know or say. All my attempts to purge this idea from my mind lead me back to that same conclusion, it is Her, proper noun, specifically identified, it is her.

I have to take the chance to show her I'm the man she needs, and the man she wants. Take the chance to prove to her that I'm the right guy. Never in my life have these relationships been prominent, never have they taken anything but a back-burner position. Let me run away with you and place this at the forefront. This is an obsession; this is ridiculous how affected I've been. In my heart is where these feelings reside, give it time. More time. It took Jesse several years to get over the lost love. To get over the woman who grabbed hold of his being and the life that kept them apart. How long will it take me?

Let's wrap up. I don't know what it means to have a best friend that is the object of my affection and the recipient of all my love. If what we had for that shortened week was any semblance of what it could be, then I didn't know I wanted that. I didn't know what it felt like, I didn't know it existed. I have never had those butterflies the way they dance in my stomach when I hold your hand, when I wrapped in your sweet embrace. I want that. I want that every day for the rest of my days. I will miss it when it's gone, and I am grateful to have had it for even a moment. Will it come back?

This is Learning Made Hard.