When I get nervous, I shake my leg. When I get really depressed, I shake my leg. When I'm angry and trying to calm down, I shake my leg. When I'm anxious, I shake my leg. When I'm coaxing myself to sleep, I shake my leg. When I'm watching television or reading a book (focusing on what I'm into), I shake my leg. .When I'm with Chad, while I am lying beside him, I don't shake my leg. I'm shaking my leg as I type. It's sort of like a stress reliever. It keeps my mind busy on movement, instead of wandering endlessly into open spaces of over-thinking.
I keep expecting to go to my phone and see "one message from Chad Evans" (his name is labelled "everything" in my cellular device.); I haven't seen that message yet. I asked him why we we're together. I asked him this Sunday. Saturday night, we seemed dandy. As a matter of fact, we seem dandy everyday-with the exception of this afternoon. He doesn't want a girlfriend right now. More than that, he doesn't want to tell anyone he has a girlfriend. He wants the perks, and I want the perks,too. So, after he explained (more or less-I would say less) that he just wanted to act how we had been acting, I came to the conclusion that I shouldn't have mentioned being a couple in the first place. I've been single for a month. Since February the twenty-eighth, which coincidentally is the same date of the month that I gave Chad everything because I imagined a big, happy married life with him...September twenty-eighth. I stop dreaming that happy marriage today,yes; it ends today. I can not lie to myself. I can not tell myself to wait for him. I say that I can't help it that there is no one else. That can't be true. You pick and choose who you love. I love Chad, I know this. He knows this. Somehow, the whole "Oh, it is love, from the first time I set my eyes unto you, thinking, oh, it is love," is not so much of a fact as it is an opinion. At the moment, it seems to just be my opinion. I bluntly exclaimed that all, every inch of satisfaction would come to me if he would just say "I love you." He couldn't, or..he wouldn't. Breathe in, close your eyes. I can't sit here and soak in some drowned pool of tears, I don't want to cry. I won't cry. Yes, he helped me. Yes, he was wonderful. Yes, he is going to be someone ravishing. But so am I. I have to start up my business. I have to stop trying to stop. What is there to stop but only myself. I am the only obstacle blocking my gain. I am the only thing that is slowing down my opportunities. I, and I alone, am the reason that I have not excelled yet. I went to the internet and looked up the date for September twenty-eighth. This strange website came up that had simply this on the page: "What happened on September twenty-eighth?" (and the answer was a short space below it, that read,) "A beautiful girl named Amanda was born." I found this to be sort of ironic. I was born. I realize, apparently, this wasn't describing me because my birthday isn't until December, yet I still kept reading that sentence:"A beautiful girl named Amanda was born." Rise up, oh, ye sleepers, rise up!
Who would give a law to lovers? Love is unto itself a higher law.
