Desperately Wanting

I sometimes wonder if we get so lazy in wanting something, that we get used to wanting that one particular thing that we hold on even when we don't want it anymore. Maybe we held onto it for years because it was easier than picking up something else, than starting something new.

I am a creature of habit, I don't like change, well no major changes that I don't choose to make (and I either have to jump into those or really think about them). I also have a hard time of letting go of things as evidenced by the boxes of stuff I have from high school in my room at home. (I need my freshman year planner, why?). I hold onto people, friends who I'm not really close to but we're so used to talking that eventually we're rerunning our convos, nothing new--everything's the same. My lost loves, did I ever let them go? Maybe, but how long did it take before I pried my hands from the hope that they would one day turn back and say "I want you too;" I've lost count. I wanted to be right about them. I don't like being wrong. In all these ways I'm stubborn.

I think about the last boy, and I wonder if maybe I stopped caring even before I left. If maybe, it was easier than admitting I wanted someone else who seemed farther out of reach than he was. There were cracks in things later that year, and the sweet moments no longer belong to him. It's not his voice I recall now, even though I heard it more than his friend's. Maybe my stubborness kept me blind.