It’s Only Life

My, how time flies.
It’s been a while since I last blogged..and I realize that’s becoming a pattern: sporadic blogging.  Maybe that’s why I feel a bit off…the lack of writing.

Life. Good ole fucking life.  I swear somewhere, the powers that be are snickering and plotting the next twist in my life.  It seems that nothing can ever happen normally to me.
Mind you, I don’t really mind.  Life would be boring if I didn’t have to fight my way through the whole damn thing..I dig myself deep and scramble to find a way out.  I know I’m not the only one, in fact, one of my closest friend’s and I had this very discussion earlier today.

I’m not complaining about what life has thrown at me this time.  I’m just amazed.
You know that feeling that you are always the last to know about something?  I had that feeling last Thursday, when in a drunken stupor I blurted out the dreaded “L-word”.
Yes. I said it. The “L-word”.
My closest friends have been telling me it was there and that it definitely wasn’t one sided.  I refused to believe them, saying that I had things under control and despite the mutual caring, it was not love. 
Everyone knew before I did.
Granted, I was drunk. Very drunk.  Drunk in the sense that I could not gauge the distance to the floor, and I also left a very nice splatter on the ground behind a restaurant, and in the sense that I have a haze surrounding the whole night and fail to remember the whole thing.
Granted, he was drunk, too.  But, he said it back.

The next morning, while still drunk we had a hurried discussion before my ride left to go out of town for a bachelorette party, and I assured him he could still take it back.

The next day, we spoke on the phone, and I again, assured him he could take it back and that people often say things they don’t mean they were drunk.  He then asked me if I wanted to take back.  I didn’t.  And neither did he.

Now for the twist and the reasons for godly snickering.  We are both terrified of this “L-word”, we are both terrified of being in a relationship, and worse, we both don’t want to think about next July.  Next July, I move away, I have wanted to move to this new town my whole life, and come next July, it’s the perfect opportunity. 
But that was before him.

Part of me wants to stay. And the other part is beating the part that wants to stay with a stick and demanding that I go.  Again, a dilemma.  Again, a hole I’ve dug myself into.

He’s only a boy.
But he’s the boy I love.