hannah riley

thinking about him. unfortunately. involuntarily. exhaustingly. endlessly. 

most likely none of this has anything to do with me. but I'm having dreams. I'm seeing signs. my brain keeps echoing new pieces of the puzzle I hadn't assembled before. my dreams feel prophetic. life feels a bit heightened and hazy right now. -

no. at the end of the day I am bored and feeling self destructive. -

I feel crazy.

I like to fantasize that this boy who left such a crater on my heart and psyche felt the same, even if it was just for a little while.

selfishly, I like to imagine that he couldn't get it up without thinking about me til he fell in love with someone else. which of course he eventually did. like people do. selfishly, I like to think that at the end of the day I'm the one who got away; the one who he really wanted but couldn't grasp. and selfishly, I like to imagine that he still fantasizes about me sometimes, because I can't help but notice the ridiculous resemblance between me and this new girl. in fact, most of the girls he's dated seem to fit into a similar box. he's got an affinity for mentally ill brunettes with funny social media posts, big brown eyes, and halfway decent asses.

but I'm not chill like she is. it's all I've ever tried to be. seriously. but being on two prescribed medications for debilitating negative thought patterns and crippling anxiety kind of takes that option away from you, for you.

the truth is none of this should matter anymore. he's clearly, clearly, clearly over it. and in some ways I am too, but I'm still mourning the decisions I made and didn't make with his heart. I wanted him so badly. I can't lie, secretly I still do. the dreams I had last night, outlining all the mistakes I made with him, gave me a lot more insight into the boy that I refused to get to know, for fear that I might have liked what I'd find. I just wanted to make him mine, to be powerful enough to keep him under a spell. what I neglected to nurture was the part of him that genuinely tried to bond with me, not just get off with me like everyone else has since. he wanted a real connection. he wanted a real relationship. Brie's a great settle. great placeholder, rebound, whatever the hell his motivation for deciding to fuck her was. but she'll never push his buttons the way I could. she'll never excite him, intrigue him, scare him, adore him, upset him, and love him all at once like I could have. to her merit, she's got a hell of a rack sporting cleavage that I couldn't muster with the most expensive push up bra I own. I don't know.

but how come now all I'm seeing is signs?

for example, I couldn't write on this page until 5:55pm. like. couldn't click my cursor into the blank space or type anything til the clock struck angel numbers. which I try really really hard not to believe in. upon rewatching the video of him gushing to me about his perspective on my appearance and aura, I spent a beat or two reminiscing on all the time he spent desperately, attentively trying to solve my mystery. reminiscing on all the times I carelessly rejected his obviously heavy romantic advances, ignoring the person in front of me who just wanted a genuine connection, and at the very least a friend.

of course this is how it goes. it usually is when you're a people user, like I seem to be. yikes!

but was I ultimately the unreachable one or was he? -

everyone in our friend group has ghosted me since the shit with tadd and londyn went down. and now my 2 remaining friends are in their new shared living space. I live an hour away in the closest thing to suburbia I could afford in Los Angeles. no real friends in town. they're all in my hometown without me.

going home tonight is gonna be so hard. gotta sleep completely alone in my apartment. my apartment is lofty, and spacious, and breezy. which I love. and it smells like roughly two months ago when I was in one of the happiest mental states of my life. when I trusted the people around me. I don't really have anyone to call. I don't really have anyone I could invite over and spend quality time with. I'm just kinda sitting in my bed, lamenting. ew.

I realize this is a moment in time that will not last. nothing does. there is immense comfort and grief that comes with this truth of life. but being so alone in this space is causing my mind to sort of collapse inward onto itself. I'm spiraling farther and farther downward every day.

the thing about my ivory tower is that the spiral staircase to the breathtaking view at the top is exhausting. and the elevator only travels down. it's easy to get on the elevator, hard to get it to stop on a safe floor.

more frightening still is the task of rifling through the files on each floor. most are unmarked, except the achingly obvious ones that overflow with bookmarks, torn, dog-eared pages, and agitated handwriting all over.

but every once in a while I encounter a box on the back of one of the shelves that I don't recognize. upon opening the box I'm immediately flooded with memory as I sift through the pages, photos and mementos.