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Impulse Reality 185
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.d""b. impulse reality press no. 185
[-- $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------------------ --]
$$ $$ "Sometimes"
$$ $$ written by noxious et candor
$$ $$ released 4/21/02
[-- $$ $$ ------ ------------------------------------------------------ --]
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"Sometimes I love you," I said to her. Well, I didn't quite say it. I
thought it. This was an important step for me. I had resolved to be
uncertain at all times. After my 17 years of life, making decisions and
sticking to them, I realized that it was time for a new direction. I
looked in her eyes and wondered if I should try to figure out what was on
her mind.
I'd always known how soft her brown eyes were, but this time I sank
through the surface. She once told me that she had the power to change
men's ideas about what they want. I didn't see this at the time. I didn't
see anything. But I saw everything. I don't know. I spoke, not knowing
if I expected her to understand.
"Sometimes my thoughts become so muddled that I'm not sure that they're
really even thoughts. But I feel like they are."
What was that expression on her face? Did she understand? I wanted to
kiss her, but decided not to decide. Somewhere, I knew, inside me I had a
big pile of decisions that were probably made, at least partially. Somehow
I'd misplaced them. I looked down at my hands, swearing they were three
shades lighter than the last time I'd checked. I imagined touching her,
resolving never to let go.
"Sometimes, you know, when you're gone, it's like, you know, and then when
I see you again, it's like..."
She smiled, taunting me. "It's like what, B? What's it like?" She knew
what it was like. She knew what I couldn't say. And furthermore, I knew
she couldn't say those same things. Deciding not to decide was my way of
making things easier, but the practice was different from the theory. As
soon as I lied not to decide, I knew that I had actually decided. Or was
it me?
I fought, fought hard to hold it back. But I had to admit, at least to
myself, that I was addicted to her. I couldn't let her go away again. Not
like this. I needed to say it. I needed her to know as much as I needed
to say it.
"You know, sometimes I love you," I blurted, fighting to retain
consciousness so as not to swoon at her feet like I always believed I
would.
She smiled. "You mean sometimes as in always?" she asked.
I bit my lip. Yes, as in always! As in I've always loved you! As in you
are the best part of my life and I can't imagine why I thought life was ok
20 minutes before I met you!
I blinked, unable to say a word.
"I thought so," she said, grinning. Seeing her cute little dimples was
more than enough to satisfy me.
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He was staring with a look like he was about to confess my dog had been
run over by a car. I felt uneasy.
Then as his gaze drifted form the floor to my eyes, I could tell this was
something not serious at all, but merely embarrassing...
He mumbled something inaudible and clumsy, and I IMMEDIATELY realized this
was about love. For a writer he sure wasn't having a way with words.
Then I remembered I was a girl. The almighty woman. The sex with power.
The one who was known for having inexplicable control over HIM! I composed
myself and let him dig himself deeper. There was no way I would let this
guy know I felt even an ounce for him. Never...
"Sometimes, you know, when you're gone, it's like, you know, and then when
I see you again, it's like..."
I had to smile.
What are you SUPPOSED to do when someone is capable of saying exactly how
you feel?
I bit. "It's like what, B? What's it like?" I had to tease him,
couldn't let him know it was THAT easy. He knew all about my 90% theory.
He knew I wouldn't admit a thing. Still, I was afraid.
Then he admitted it...
I dont think I rememeber the next thing I said. It was something like,
"You mean sometimes as always?" Uh oh... I was letting the guard down, the
infamous guard that had protected me from ever feeling... well, feeling
more than I could handle. Yet I felt like I had crossed that line
already.
I had to cover up any possible insecurities that were seeping through my
hard shelled exterior, so I coyly remarked, "Thought so." Deep inside, I
hoped to keep him guessing. That meant he would never grow bored, or know
he had me in the palm of his hand. That way I was safe, safe from totally
looking like a fool in love.
He would never know that side of me.
Never.
Yet as I looked at him, I knew he knew too much.
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the clever thing to do here would be to put some sort of copyright. no.
http://www.phonelosers.net/ir
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