limbs

It's exhausting how you mold into different variations of yourself. The person I have become was not at all what I had planned, and while I have learned to take the stumbles with the triumphs, I am not so good at my pride still. Just like rollerblading, cake, and our old postman, my pride and I will forever be enemies....bc really? I don't ever let it go.

It was her birthday. A day we normally spend rejoicing on the phone the past few years that we have been stuck in different cities. Regardless of the time apart it was always there, like one of those fabulous books you re-read even if you know how it ends. Bc regardless that you can say the words verbatim, it's the warmth of the story that gets you every time. It's the warmth of a dear friendship that enables you to be yourself in all your jack ass glory. 

But I'm mad. I don't think it's ok for the empty promises and the lack of follow through. I don't like the consolation prize of being a runner up to a name I've never known, and I refuse to be. So while I miss calling her when something funny happens, or when the klutz in me takes over, my pride enables me to keep that fight fresh in my mind. Normally I'll cave, normally I will give in, normally it doesn't last this long. But time has become a bigger cursor than the fight itself. And though it stemmed from justified views, it has snowballed into ridiculous. To the point of either no return or the awkward 'hows it going' email 2 years down the road when life has taken you miles apart physically and heart wise. We are almost at the end of the grey area, past the point where marshmallows get too sticky and beer is always warm. We're almost there, and this time I am not going to be the one to pull it out of the grey, to breath life an I'm sorry back into it. Bc I wasn't wrong, and the fact she doesn't see where I am coming from almost makes me accept the sticky marshmallows.