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My heart is racing inside me. There's the whole wide world around me but I hardly notice it. I don't think she's going to show. Why would she? She said she would. I came all this way for her. But none of it feels real. I hardly know her and I love her. I do. I can lie about it but I don't. It's naked under my skin and I'm shaking a little because of it. It hardly amounts to anything. A beautiful woman I recognize shows up on a bicycle. We have the travesty of a meal at a sub shop, walk in a cold January day and sit outside a church wall married senior wants casual dating dating match free and she smokes. We talk awhile and she eventually rides off, I hug her once and it's like it all never was after that.
That was ten months ago. That's the nearest I've been to love. To anything. The scissors still work on me. I still feel it. I still want it. But laying in the womb of a blanket to some music is all it is, now. I try again every awhile, I comb my hair, look presentable, straighten myself awhile, stand a little taller, try again. No one looks at me with her eyes, though. No one loves me special like she did. No one loves me at all. I walk under the stars and it's never been so cold before. I walk burning down with each footfall, believe even now, want to, mean to, I walk because walking I can do, wish I was at least walking toward it, knowing full well that I'm not.
I care less everyday. Less and less and less. I stare longer and feel harder and want it more and know the world doesn't give so much of a damn about me. I breathe and it's mine. I look with my eyes and follow the shallow path. I sway in the sensuous dreams and prop myself on the couch-fort wars. Lie dead from a Nerf dart but really die somehow without her. My heart has been hit and it hurts as though somehow I've lived a thousand lives and failed in all of them. I lie in the collapsed fort and cry at the lost, broken, destroyed dreams. I cry at the ruins of the wasted life and know not how to get up anymore. I've lost that skill. I've lost the skill of language. I am subhuman, now. I've half a heart and half a lung to live off of.
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