The only thing I ever really wanted to say was wrong.

I feel like this is the slowest, saddest mind game ever. In fact, calling it a mind game at all is a pretty lofty description, but I don't know how else to describe it.

Over a year ago, I planned on seeing you, with my boyfriend, and thought, "How strange, that everything amounted to this nothing, because there was nothing. Nothing between us, nothing like the years of writing and aching would lead you to believe. Nothing like I thought there was. Just silly crushes that fade."

And then when I saw you, I was so casual. So uninterested. And then you held my hand. Honestly, you held my hand. What, the fuck. You shook my hand, which is easily the most awkward gesture you could have offered. Your drummer and I hug, like old friends, like BFFs, without shame. We have known each other for almost 9 years and do not touch, ever. So, you shook my hand. Okay then. Except you didn't let go. And we stood there, holding hands, and making small talk as though this is somehow normal. Chitchatting with my boyfriend about guitars while we are holding fucking hands. Normal, right?

And it all just caught me off guard. I also drank on an empty stomach which is always a grand plan. I was waiting in line for the bathroom, texting my friend, literally giggling to myself about the ridiculousness before me. The ridiculousness of you and my boyfriend even being in the same room with each other, let alone comparing notes on being musicians. And then you asked me a question. I had no idea that you had been standing there, not sure for how long, watching me text and giggle to myself. I knew someone was there. I just didn't know it was you.

Everything was exactly as I once thought. The awkwardness, the way you look at me. You stuttering, telling me you've been working on your singing. Sitting at a table for three and the look on your face when I was leaving.

On the way home I couldn't help thinking maybe I was right all along. Maybe there is this thing that will never quite fade. And I kept those thoughts in the back of my mind all that time.

And then there was Saturday. It started out perfect. I said hello. We had about 60 seconds of perfect conversation about the mythical death of your band, and that was it. That was it. For the entire night. That was it. We didn't speak again. My boyfriend didn't want to stick around for the second band, so he's ready to run out the door. I went to say goodbye, and could only find your drummer. So, I just left. Just left, no big deal. Just left like I haven't been missing the banter these past 6 years. Just left like you are insignificant to me. I'm back to feeling like this has always been nothing, that I'm just wrong again.

And now I'm feeling baffled and wounded. I am feeling let down and disappointed. Serious question, if I join a convent, can I take my dog with me? That's a deal breaker. But I am just sick of this. Trying to have a serious monogamous relationship is hard enough. Trying to reconcile the person I am, with this version of me who is in a serious monogamous relationship is hard enough. Trying to be in a serious monogamous relationship while still caring about past loves is hard enough. But trying to be in a serious monogamous relationship and still getting caught up in ambiguities and hurt feelings? Seriously? Seeing the Dominican this summer threw me for a loop and a half. A loop and three quarters, even. Fucking horrible. And now this. Now I have to add this to the list of hurt feelings. Now I have to sit and theorize the probability of me just being a silly girl, full of silly crushes and silly dreams.

If I'm going to be this serious person, in serious relationships, I would like to know where I stand. I would like a clear picture of my disastrous history of affections. I would like to know whether or not I was ever loved. I would like to know who it's appropriate to be friends with. I would like to know who to treat as just a silly crush. I am too tired, and too involved in this relationship to be affected by things that happened in another life. But, here I am. Affected by things that happened in another life.

So I guess that's the question. What is the solution? Do I just let myself fade away? What if I never went to another show again? Would I be better off? Would anyone care? Regardless, I'm certain my answer would be silence. And maybe that's the answer I need. Maybe I've been hurting myself on these things for too many years, and maybe the answer is to just let go.

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[I believe in a thing called love]