A story. And why I am the way I am these days.

This could be short and sweet.
This could be kept inside my head and heart, never seeing the light of day.
But it won't be. I warn you, you won't like me after reading this, so why not just move on to something you like doing instead of reading a ramble of things that you won't be able to make heads or tails of.
I just re-read it and it reads like VCR instructions. The sentiment is there, but I am a bad writer. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

I can bottle things up like there is no tomorrow, but there isn't any point now.
Nothing I keep inside stays there for long. This blog is nothing but misery and whining about woah is me stuff anyway. I remember it used to be funny. It used to have wit and some semblance of being a good read if you didn't have anything else to do and was the only thing on the internet left. You should always do the dishes before you read this blog. The dishes, nine times out of ten would be more useful.
But what will it hurt if I stop being cryptic and tell you what is really going on with me?
I've lost hope tonight.
I never really written about Amanda. I don't know why that is. I used to think it was for her privacy, but then she would always ask me why i never wrote about her. I have things on paper about her, but I didn't think a public blog on a public internet was the place for our relationship. She was mine at one point, and I was a part of something really good. I would talk about her in person, and if people would ask and were willing to listen, I would speak at length.
She is an Anthropologist. A fancy term for someone much more intelligent than am or ever will be. A go getter, and perfectionist. A planner of things and a writer of lists about what to make lists about. She has quirks that make me swoon and want more and more. She was supportive and kind about everything I do. Her unique beauty is distracting, and looking at a picture of her meant that you looked at it all day. Physically in your hand staring, or in your head. I would want more and more of her, and when I am with her, I am infinite and everything is perfect. I wanted so much to spend my life with her, that I devised a plan to move to Indiana to be with her. And that is where it got tricky. She was in Indiana. She is still in Indiana. She is twenty feet from me as i write this blog, and I can never touch her again. This is why I am unhappy. This is why I am writing this. To tell you how much she meant to me. Or means to me. Currently. Present and future tense implied.
I ruined, like most of the relationships before this one, the thing that made me feel like anything was possible. I am, as many know and few forget, a coward. Let me explain. I saw moving to Indiana as a way of running away, just like I saw Minneapolis as a way of escape. Both cities were my personal circus. I needed to get to them as fast as possible because I thought that they would automatically fill the void that I needed filling. There is more to that story of why i wanted to get to Minneapolis, but it is so far in the past that even i forget some detail. But i know why i wanted Indianapolis this time. I wanted to start something real. No more meeting people at random and facebook befriending them or myspace buddy-ing them and flirting via messenger and meeting and subsequently hooking up and starting the cycle over again. Its a generalization, but it fits at this moment, as my fingers hit the keyboard with menacing speed and inaccuracy. Seriously. Spell Check is my best friend right now. I'm just a man who had reached his limit. i had grown up, and I literally saw the kids and the big dog and the matching luggage and the adventures to far off lands in order for her to dig things up and study them. I would write to make minimum wage and live the happiest life known to man next to the woman that made me feel like I had just as much to offer the world as she did, because she believed in me. And i her. At least, that was what growing up meant to me. Or means to me. i don't know. it isn't going to happen, so maybe it will change in twenty minutes or tomorrow afternoon or never. Maybe my thoughts on what a grown up is revolves around the mass stereotype of some idiot (myself in this instance) who never really grows up. My parents are grown up, and they don't go on adventures to the American southwest and dig up human remains from ancient civilizations and make rubbings of glyphs on rocky slopes that are older than the continents. But they had kids, and were at one point in love, so maybe they were a different kind of grown up? I honestly will never know. I just know what I want. or wanted. meh. end rant.
I'm going in and out of topic, apologies. As the date of my move to Indy approached, I was mentioning more and more of my nerves. Still looking forward to it, but also down with the understanding that I was making one HELL of a life change. Friends and family were of mixed thought. 'You should do it. It will be great for you'
'Fuck that. Don't go. We need you here. Why Indiana?'
I was going to Indy to start a band or something. No, it was a theatre. Some space of my own. It was a silly idea made of whispy dreams and a barrel full of hopes.
I re-thought it, and realized that it would be uphill. No matter what i did, it wouldn't be what I really wanted. And I knew, deep down, that I was moving for her. To be with her.
And it wasn't fair. it just wasn't fair at all. The pressure she would have felt to comfort me while i was a stranger in a strange land would have been too much.
We were long distance since August. We spoke every night and sometimes during the day. I could count on one hand the times I wasn't able to say 'Goodnight, I love you'
And she would always say in a super fast adorable way, "okIloveyoubecareful" and then I would get my 'Sleep Sweet' that made me do just that.
I would look up at the Moon if it was out, maybe just the night sky, because i knew that those were things that we both used. I would look at the Moon and tell it to look out for her, make her safe. And if the moon was clouded over, or wasn't visible, the sky would carry the same message, and I knew I would speak to her tomorrow.
If I were to go out, I would call her and say the goodnights early. She always stayed up to talk to me, even though she wanted to go to bed. The hour time difference was enough to accumulate days of lost sleep that I owe her still.
Since we were in a long distance thing that would suck the life out of anything, we had our wonderful monthly trips to see each other. All too short, but perfect nonetheless. She came to see me first, and then i came to her. Then she started school and work was kicking her ass, so I came every month until spring. Taking the megabus was a pain in the ass, but I hope you've gathered that she was worth it.
She saw Minneapolis again in the latter part of Winter. She is a chill bug, but she loves the snow. I wished she had seen one of those quiet Minnesota winter nights where everything is muffled by the falling snow. That was something that I will regret not being able to show her.
So through the long distance love, and the nightly or more phone calls, we persisted. We made due with what we had. And I can speak for myself that I was happier than i had been in a long while. And not just because of her. Not only because i was with her. it was the way she made me feel about myself. The fact that I had someone who really believed in me. She always told me that she loved seeing me onstage hosting the show, or doing a fringe show because i looked so comfortable making people laugh. I don't remember the making people laugh part as well as she did, but we were both biased.
I'm still biased. I look back on this relationship with rose coloured glasses. I miss the moments we never talked about as well as the laughable memories of how goofy we were together. Making her laugh was my biggest accomplishment. And truth be told, I still like making her do it, though it seems the laughs are few and far between these days.
getting back to the long distance, and what was an impending move:
The tension was getting to us both. She was worried about me being there, I was worried about me being there too. It just boiled up I guess.
We spoke to each other one night in late April. It was just another one of our night time phone calls to see how the day went and to say nice things to each other. Sadly, it went sour. She was freaking out about me moving there, and I was too. I felt that whatever fears would be either laid to rest, or dealt with accordingly. Together. Like a team. An unfaltering unit that could beat all the odds of Long distance loves. we were different. We were Us.
The night ended with us not being together anymore. Stories and recounts may vary. He said/She said kind of stuff, but at the end of the day, we weren't that 'Us' Anymore. We were one part in Indianapolis, and one part in Minneapolis. 500 miles might as well have been several thousand. I couldn't show up at her door with flowers. I wasn't able to throw rocks at her window and climb the ivy to hold her once more.
The texts back and forth were still I love you's and I miss you's, but they were not as frequent.
When we did talk on the phone from that point on, it wasn't as often. I was trying to focus on other things, like what the hell happened next. I made myself scarce because I needed to not deal. I was not, nor probably ever will be (read: this whole thing now)able to cope with a loss like this. I had plans made and a new life to try out.
But then I started to really think. I didn't have that one person who would be in my corner while i was scared and in a city where I didn't know which end was up. yes, i had a support system here in indy, but I needed the comfort of a connection like i had with her.
She thought that I was only moving because of the convenience that she offered. I was going to sleep in her bed. move my clothes into drawers she had to move things out of. I was not only uprooting my own life, I was fucking up her own.
All because I wanted to be with her. I wanted to have a life with her, and I used the guise of trying to start some bullshit theatre that I knew not one thing about starting let alone running.
So yeah, i was lying to myself and others about why i was moving. I had moved here before for a woman, and now i was about to do it again.
Remembering how it went before, didn't help matters. But now I wasn't with her. I didn't have the support. I didn't have a place to stay. Everything had fallen apart, and now I wasn't even dealing with that. Just going through the motions like nothing was wrong. Sure, I was unbearable to be around. Whatever.
During one of our talks, and after i had decided to stay in Minneapolis, because what was the point of moving now, I made a mistake that leads us to now.
I told her that I could never be happy in Indianapolis.
I thought it was the truth at the time. i was mad. i was hurt because we should have been stronger than that.
It was mentioned once that when I started living in Indy, we could start dating and see how it went, and I'm not sure what happened to that. Aside from the fact that I wasn't moving anymore.
I did decide to go for the Summer. There was that. In my small Male mind, I felt that the testing it out thing might work out after all. But the communication thing fell apart. i know that it was my own fault. I should have called back when i missed a call from her. I shouldn't have tried to be 'strong and stoic' because i should have tried telling her that I just wanted her. That's it. I'm sure I did say that, but maybe just to myself.
I didn't talk to her on the phone for almost a week before I got here.
The last thing I said to her was 'I'll just see you on Tuesday when I get there'
I should have told her that I loved her. But she had started to move on, and wouldn't have listened like she might have only a month prior.
I know I skipped a few things, and maybe they should have been hit upon. Well, they aren't going to be. I'm here now. Here in Indianapolis, and I've had moments of pure perfection. And more Hell than i care to have in a lifetime. I'm bringing it on myself, because I didn't know that she had started moving on. There is another man in her life now, and I'm just the asshole who swooped in and fucked up her world by telling her that i still care for her.
She doesn't want a relationship, even though she is in one. I totally understand her need to move on. I also know that I am a complete fuckwit for thinking anything could be like it once was. I am justified in being hurt when I love you is still being said and hands are being held, and the new guy is on the other line waiting to see her again. it kills me that I am not able to love who I want. I want her. it's just that simple. It is travel to the ends of the earth kind of love, but whoever said that was enough is a screenwriter for Disney. I go to sleep at night hoping she will change her mind, walk up to me and tell me that I am on probation or something. make me jump through hoops and serve her tea in a cheerleaders outfit in from of our friends. Something, anything but what I am expected to endure. All the love in the world, and flowery language, but not enough love to close our eyes and fall backwards into each others arms. None of the things we used to say to each other. I told her last night that if we talk about what is going on between us, it has to be in person. Text has become to cold. hell, even talking in person gets up no where. I am in love with a woman who used to be in love with me, but isn't anymore. No matter what is said to me to keep me coming back for more, in the end it is really all over. And that is where I am. Right this moment. Typing out things that probably make no sense to anyone and make me look like a total bastard.
I'm hurt. And I feel like I lost the one thing that made sense. The horrible part is that I am am so masochistic that I am sitting next to her at a table writing this. We are laughing sometimes, we are holding hands sometimes. she touches my forehead, and I get goosebumps. She looks at me and smiles, I melt. I try not to think about the person she can be with. I try and tell her everything all at once, but all I come up with is making her hate being around me. I am ruining this whole Summer. This is me feeling sorry for myself and being pathetic. Well, more pathetic than what is above. I used to believe in Love as something so fucking powerful that it could destroy and create. All at once. It was a complete mystery, and the more I experienced it in my life, the more scared I became of how much it could make me feel like I could do anything, or make me into a pile of nothing, so numb that it would take a mac truck at 65 to make me feel anything.
The whole point of this was to show that I have loved someone fiercely. I still do, but I'm not allowed anymore. Maybe I am, but the more I do, the more hurt I get. I've finally reached the point where I am sick of being sad. I am sick of not being enough. And I'm not ready for anything that isn't her.
I am 12 years old, and I want everything I can't have. And I am still sitting at this table next to her, hoping that she gets over her cold and aces the test she is studying for. I am a mess and addicted to a drug who's street name is Amanda.

She is my drug of choice. I am addicted to her voice, and I constantly jones for her to ask me how my day was and to tell me to sleep sweet. For her to touch me the way she used to would be a plus as well, but it has to mean something. And I am too emo to be good for anything tonight.

If you need me, I am out building walls that are as tall as her own. With a door in it that I know i will give her a spare key for.
I'm masochistic to the end, I know...
But I still wish love was enough for right now. Everything else can wait till tomorrow.

There is no such thing as Staying Awesome in matters of the heart. I know. I tried.

Meanwhile, I am still Andy



I love you.