You were what I wanted/I gave what I gave

“It’s not you, it’s me,” she said.

And he believed her.

Mostly because she is a huge fucking mess.

He felt guilty for thinking that.

And then he felt justified because she rocked such a cliché on him.

And then he felt guilty for that too.

As he ran, Stars’ “Your Ex-Lover Is Dead” echoed through the ear buds of his iPod.

Not by design.


He ran the same route every single day. He could do it on auto-pilot.


This scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin.
Tried to reach deep but you couldn’t get in.

It could have been worse.

The last of his walls was just days from coming down.

He would have been completely unguarded.

Against her.

He knew better.

It’s not as if he wanted his heart to get it’s ass kicked.



He tried to run fast enough so that people couldn’t see him.

He caught himself thinking, “It’s her loss.”

But, he didn’t want to be THAT guy.

Even if it was true.

He could see the positives.

He could.

Like with every other failed relationship, he had learned something.

Though he found more solace in that when he was younger.

He arrived home. He stretched on the sidewalk.

He went in for a drink. Strawberry Melon Powerade sucks.

He stared in the bathroom mirror. He shook his head and managed a little smile.

He knew better.

He got undressed. He got the shower temperature just right. He got in.

It was time to wash it all off and get a fresh start.

“Maybe the next one…”

0 thoughts on “You were what I wanted/I gave what I gave

  1. At least it wasn’t Blue Powerade, you know b/c blue isn’t a flavor.

    How do you write these? Do you let you mind just wander?

  2. esse: So they say.

    mim: Yup. Though I’m not sure if “let” is the right word. My mind wanders with or without my permission.

  3. Hmm…

    Excellently written, as always, Peter.

    I just have to wonder: is this another story you had floating around in that brain of yours… or is this one based on a true reality from your past?

    Some of your stuff reminds me of Alfred Hitchcock. Not the mysterious/scary/type of stuff but the “leaving you hanging” thing you got going on at times.

  4. Blue is the only good Powerade. I wish I could get as excited about everything the way some of the guys at my college did when they added it to the fountain drinks.

  5. camikaos: Yessers.

    amber: It’s good to wonder. ;)

    sara: They sound like they are easily amused.

    sybil law: Thanks!

    steph: Awwww. You’re a sweetie.

  6. Damn it. If I don’t get here before Molly, she ends up saying exactly what I was going to say.

    And that’s what I was going to say – is it REALLY?

    Damn her.

  7. airam: Thanks so much. I’ve been saying that FOR YEARS. Glad I finally have a convert.

    clink: Yep. It’s fiction. Though, if pressed, I might admit that some of the emotions were real at various points in time. But, only if pressed. And I’ve never gotten the “it’s not you, it’s me” line. Because, let’s face it, it is pretty frequently me.

  8. great post! i wish mine were fiction…

    but i love the shower reference and “washing it all off”. been there and thought that – just yesterday in fact.

    ps. hope you don’t mind, i added you to my blogroll :)

  9. I had just decided on Set Yourself on Fire as my falling asleep music. I hit play and then opened your blog to THIS post. Bizarre.

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