Wanting

I am standing at the edge of a cliff that, if I jump into, will take me years to fully reach the bottom--but that bottom may end up being one of the best things in my life in more ways than one. This cliff this cliff this cliff.

I am high on wanting.

I have been sober for eighteen days now. I am scared to discuss my sobriety because this is the fifth time I am Quitting Drinking in all caps and I don't wish to offend better drunks than myself.

I am high on wanting, wanting.

It's a sad state of affairs when you can do nothing but sit and watch as the most amazing person in the world, a woman in my case, invites you out to drink and socialize and have fun and all you can do is sit and stare into her amazing green eyes and her other-worldly beautiful face and share a hug, a touch, a dance, the soft feel of her hand in yours, the elusive possibility of a stolen kiss...and know that when it is time for her to go home, it will be to some other man. And her man treats her well, from what I gather. I don't spite the man for anything other than he is able to have her in the one way I cannot: He has her love. I think that an attraction to a person that goes well beyond the physical and becomes about wanting the person's entire being and essence is the worst kind of attraction anyone can have, especially when you know you can't have it. Having her know that you want nothing more than to possess her heart and knowing that all the compliments and shared conversations that she says make her feel better about herself and make her want to be around you more will only lead to her once again going back to him is what twists the knife a bit further into my heart every single day. The wanting is what, I feel, drives men crazy and makes them do the bad things that men wind up doing. It is hard to be the good guy about this.