Cruise Control
The whole situation is just like weird. I miss him, I truly do. I am not really sure what aspect in particular, but I do know I miss him. Which I guess is a normal part of a break up.
Our drive was not long nor short; it still wore down the tires.
But the weird part is I never experienced that peak of emotion—when you feel as if you have been shredded into pieces and become insanely reckless to balance out the discombobulated mess you had suddenly found yourself in.
For me, the pain has lingered. Subtle, but tolerable. Uncomfortable and always there. Kinda like a pebble stuck in your shoe, randomly jabbing you from time to time. Unnoticeable at certain points and unbearable at others.
I fought with myself more than I had ever fought with him.
Angry, mild temper.
I should have been an emotional burden, so whenever he’d stay, I’d be reminded he does care.
Because how can one not fall head over heels for unprecedented derange?
The buzz of an argument—it’s a high that a person dreads, yet still subconsciously craves that rush of adrenaline.
But our road never developed a pothole and without any bumps to curse at, our ride was only smooth. I’m guessing that’s why we lost the drive and remained on cruise control.