A Conglomerate Affair

I'll look back on that night, walking through Santiago with my eyes wide and my heart open, and I'll know I was happy. There was nothing better than walking by your side, hearing you tell me all the little things about your town, of tragedy and history, so much magical realism eking out of the ground like a sweet poison for the mind. Of feeling the scar on your back from a terrible accident that left you bedridden for months. Of looking out over the lake, to the distant shore, where the figure of a man could be seen in the mountain's shape, crowned with the lights of Sololá and Panajachel. I'll look back on that night fondly, knowing that you shared so much of yourself without having read my letters yet. In that night we were the best of friends, and that was all there was, and the time passed like pages of a book in the wind, stretched like elastic later when we kissed.

Listening to this Lone Ranger soundtrack rn and if there's a song in here that ends up being the one I've been looking for, Car is 100% gettin booty when I get back to the US

I’m still trying really hard to get over forgetting / not knowing about his birthday until today. I feel really strongly that that’s something I should’ve known, should’ve found out beforehand, that it should’ve come up before today looking for his stupid nawal. The feeling that I should’ve been more, done more. The stronger feeling that I need to get away from this, from him. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to get this upset over him, over something that I don’t understand. I can’t tell his tone on facebook messenger. I have no idea if he’s happy, or mad, or sad, or frustrated, or frustrated with me, or mad at me, and I can’t really deal with that. I desperately would like to talk to him, but much in the same way as with these guatemalans, I’m talking, but I’m not communicating. I can’t give up on them, because they’re right here, but I could give up on him. I could let it go, let this go, get some normalcy back in my life, I could like someone fleetingly, shallowly, a hummingbird flitting from tree to tree, flower to flower, constantly moving to the next one. Not feel guilty or upset over things I can’t control. Over someone I can’t control.  Someone I don’t understand, who I fear doesn’t know himself or like himself enough to look at me and find anything he wants. I fear (and fearing frustrates me) that he isn’t happy with himself, and he’s not at all ready to add me to his life. And that’s okay. That’s okay. But I can’t, I don’t have the heart that will wait to throw myself into someone, this summer apart is fit to drive me mad, and for what? to find that the thing we put in the fire to strengthen it, has burned to ash? To return at the end of the summer to see someone who doesn’t give a shit? He’s so hard to read, because he doesn’t talk. He could literally be thinking anything. I have to get away. I have to stop thinking about him, I have to stop talking to him, because I’ll never get anything out of him this way. He won’t talk to me from this far away. If it’s worth it, I’ll have to wait for those intimate, infinitely distant moments, that darkness in the car, of driving to somewhere and nowhere and blasting ed sheeran and singing like he isn’t there, of getting in the car and jumping on 440, taking him with me, staring straight ahead and letting the darkness hold us, create a bubble around us, so we can pretend we’re alone, and be honest with ourselves and say the things we can’t type, the things we can’t whisper through cans on a line. I won’t look at him, and he won’t look at me, but in that metal box flying down the highway at 70MPH, we’ll be together again. 

What is it inside us that makes us yearn for a warm embrace? A quiet craving that we often deny, but all the same, it remains