subject line: I need to be up at 8 tomorrow


Laying naked on the floor, actually

I feel like I can breathe again. I never realized how much of an impact trying to be in the perfect relationship had on me. Perfect in theory. Dates that he pays for, holding doors open, charming my family perfect. Perfect in race. Black and white socially conscious couple ready to take on the world. Perfect in height. Ten inches taller than me. Perfect down to the freckles on his face. Perfect in career. Perfect in desire to do better, be better, work harder, say more.

Perfect on the outside doesn’t encapsulate what was happening on the inside. Anxiety on both our parts. Him because he found the girl he thought was perfect and didn’t know how to keep her around. Me because I found the guy who was perfect, and I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t want to be there.

I still don’t know.

All I know is that I have my whole life to figure out what was missing, whether he’s in it or not. Damn, that’s a refreshing thought. I can wake up tomorrow, tired as hell, exhausted from work, knock my day out, and crash into bed while I lay there and piece it together. I can’t remember the last time I lay there so easy.

No boundaries, no bargains, no rules.