Thursday, October 16, 2014

your move

That moment when it all sinks in.  
You bat your eyelashes and all of a sudden your an adult with money and a job you love driving a brand new car sitting in your tastefully decorated apartment drinking a glass of wine watching scandal in a silk and lace night robe with overpriced scented candles burning in each room, freshly showered with silky hair up in a bun, nails and toes professionally done, outfits upon outfits 

It's the night before the man of your dreams comes to see you

You think he won't show. 
 As much as you're afraid he won't show, your even more terrified he will.  You'll say things and he won't respond the way he does in your dreams.  You hope it goes terrible like all the other times because thats easy and thats what you know but you try and clear your mind and let it play out like a shakespearian play.

The moments you wonder about incessantly consume you, they're about to become real and reality is unpredictable, therefore it is a threat.  

And you don't like being threatened.

Then you come back and ground yourself, you remember the wise words of drake.

yolo …was that it?

And it's fucking stupid but it makes sense so you pour another glass of wine, and breath in the beautiful, expensive scent of cucumber and lime candles.

You take a sip of the expensive wine you never imagined you could afford at 22.

And you smile

Because no matter which way it goes you don't need him
You want him.
At leafs that's what you tell yourself.

  You would like it all to play out like it does in your dreams but you are a grownup, therefore you have spent a significant amount of time going over possible outcomes, and what that will mean, how that will make you feel.

You've accepted every single possibility.

So why get so worked up about it.

Another sip of wine, another episode, another hour before bed reading about things that you find interesting.

You don't believe in psychology, you believe in good moves.


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