Come Back To Me

...or, you know, don't.

I'm ready to start bashing my head on the wall. It's only in moments like these, when your love life is crumbling at your feet, that you see just how many people are watching you, hoping you'll fail, hoping you'll fly, or maybe in my case, have spontaneously combusted into nothing but ash.

I started looking over my old blogs, just a moment to pass before I started this splash of a rant, and noticed the lyrics of David Cook for one of my titles. I'd like to think of this as a full circle; this is the second guy I've pretty much told to screw off in my blog. Huh, looks like a trend is starting.

Anyway, back on topic. Gaylon had an interview today, something I was blissfully happy about. Him getting a job could boost his confidence, maybe knock some of the fluff back into his head to realize he's pushing his girlfriend right off the nearest cliff into the raging ocean of emotions below, or whatever it is I happen to be to him. I called in the morning, as a little way to say 'Go get 'em, tiger!' and left him a cheerful message on his voicemail. It wasn't too long before I noticed it was 5 pm, and my second break in the day was up. I took the time to fish out my phone and give him a ring, since he hadn't texted me back. Once more, his cheesy voicemail greeted me, only this time I didn't leave anything. I just shrugged and figured he was busy. He'd text eventually, or maybe he'd passed out in glee after his interview. I didn't know.

9 pm came and went. Frustrated, I went home, and logged on my computer. I couldn't help myself; I wanted to know if he was out cold or if he was just blowing me off hardcore now. I checked a few logs on some websites concerning his characters, and lo-and-behold, the bastard was online, active, and completely awake. I was pissed. Might still be pissed.

It was only hours ago I was worried and hoping he was alright, feigning nonchalance about him dropping me like a hot knife. Everyone's general consensus about him so far was this; he's overwhelmed and busy, give him space, he'll come back and miss you. Yeah, well, what happens when he doesn't miss me, and I'm still here standing like an idiot with my arms open, waiting for the hug that'll never come? What happens if time comes and goes, and I leave, and then he decides to come back? What's a human to do with all these damn emotions and their lack of place in a slowly hollowing heart?