This year I want to go to Iceland, Cuba, Hawaii, Bali, and Thailand. I want Invisalign and lash extensions. I want to finally eat at French Laundry. I want to take a dance class. I want to start bikram again. I want to redecorate my room. I want to punch inconsiderate people who lack common sense in the face.
But I need to save money. For my mom’s bachelorette party. For a new car. Shit, for life. I need to meal plan. I need to stop taking Uber to work. I need to give less fucks about things that don’t matter. I need to go to the gym at least 3 times a week. I need to stop wasting my gym membership. I need a new car. I need to love myself.
I wanted this man. I always wanted him, even before I knew I did. This man that had a soft side to his hard demeanor. This man that was brutally honest with me. This man that let me know he couldn’t give me more, but continued seeing me knowing I wanted more. This man that laid me down then laid it down. This man that didn’t do anything wrong except for not want me back.
I wanted to scream. To inject some sort of paralyzing serum into my veins everytime my fingers would respond to his texts. I wanted to furiously beat some sense into myself whenever I walked through his front door.
But I needed him. I needed him in my life to remind me that I was already everything without him. I needed him to make the effort. I needed his sensitivity and support. I needed to know I was worth it.
I needed to be with him. Not just that, I needed to be head over heels in love with him. I needed to be obsessed. I needed to text my friends every detail of every date we had, and feel butterflies everytime the door opened and it was him. I needed to need him.
The thing is, I needed to want him too.