you always know

how to show up at the right time. How to turn around and stare me in the eyes and, for one second, even if just for one, impossibly stretched out second, overwhelm me. A wave of nostalgia, of nausea and nauseating infatuation, of conflicting loathing and yearning, splashing over me, and then I'm just left with messed up hair and stinging eyes.

Dancing was okay. I was more concentrating on the fact that I can't yet dance in my new shoes. But I got this feeling again--that moment when you see someone you haven't seen in forever, but not in the "oh-my-GAWD-I-haven't-seen-you-in-for-EVER" sense (although I think I said something to that effect on the way onto the floor).

How in the fucking hell do you do that? How in the hell do I let you do that? I don't want it. I don't want you, and I'm proud of myself enough to say that at least I didn't stare you down, daggers or Cupid arrows or otherwise. But it was as if I hadn't seen a good friend in a long while, not as if you used to mean something much more to me before I found out your true nature. I hated when you got physically close to me, I felt like retching, and reaching out at the same time.

Good news: it was only a fleeting two hours or so of an otherwise GREAT night. I got to see and dance with my good friends, have dessert, and drive all the way back home with most of the said amazing people. Bad news: my future plans to dance there again might coincide with yours.

I refuse to orbit around you anymore. I can't keep falling back like this; it's immature, and it shows more of a want than an uncontrollable happenstance.

I don't...I don't.