blood – Ivy

You said it had a lot to do with where our blood was at the time. And where it wasn’t. And how we were thinking based on its distribution.

I can be the queen of terrible foresight. I’m the master of closing doors, of burning bridges, of taking exactly the worst opportunities. For someone who spends a lot of time thinking things over, I can be so thoughtless. I seem, sometimes, to be ruled by an ever-fluctuating logic of rules that continue to change when I never even knew the original doctrine.

And so I suppose a lot of it is just instinct. Everywhere else, I am thoughtful, careful, prepared. But, in this domain, I’m ruled by where the blood is, by the way the hair stands up on my skin, by the sort of electricity in my bones that you sometimes feel just after it has rained and, now, more often I tend to feel around people with stormy forecasts.

I woke up before anyone at my friend’s apartment and remembered the text I had sent the night before. Wincing, I checked my phone. SG had responded asking me to explain what was bothering me about it and I realized that we probably needed to talk. I stepped outside, took a seat and sucked in a deep breath.

I told him how I had felt betrayed, that it had seemed that the two of them had gone behind my back, that I had wanted not to care as much as I did. I expressed that I had always feared being used and that I worried I meant nothing to him.

I felt pathetic and childish and far too vulnerable. It was why I had not gotten into it with him previously beyond our initial argument over it when I first found out.

However, he heard me out and then apologized. A lot. For being careless about how I might feel, for assuming I had known and wouldn’t mind, for snapping at me when I had confronted him, and for making me feel the way I did. He explained he wasn’t aware at the time of how rude Elle had been to me lately and how she had done this behind my back and he felt horribly for having put me through what I described to him on the phone.

I was shocked. I don’t know why, but sometimes I just don’t have enough faith in people. So, I was pleasantly surprised.

“I care about you a lot,” he reassured me near the end, “you mean a lot to me. And I’m really sorry.”

While it’s not enough to get me to jump back into bed with him right away, it was an extremely satisfying resolution. And it feels nice to not have to just sit around quietly resenting him and not expressing how I felt, something I know I need to work on in the future.

So, in total, Drunk Ivy initiated a pretty major success.

Love Was Trying To Kill Me by ~Amatorka