Day 37: Or is it (The end) Thirty-Eight [?]

It’s at times like these that I realise just how much I miss her. But not only that, but also how much I need her. It’s at times like these, when I stand aside from myself that I examine the person that Ive become without her…
It’s been thirty-seven days. Thirty- seven days (or is it thirty-eight?) since I sat up in my bed one morning and told myself that; enough is enough. You are no longer allowed to mourn over her. To mourn over us. You are going to get up, get out and make a conscious effort to flush her from your system, you hear?
And for the most part I succeeded. Twenty something odd days in and I was making moves. Moves, of course, with the intention of moving whichever girl it happened to be that night to a room with thick curtains, a bed and a locked door.
One morning not too long after this though (day 29 if I remember correctly), hung over and in dire need of a third bottle of water, I asked myself what the hell I was doing. I had climbed out of one pit only to fall into another. And no one had to tell me that the first pit was a whole lot better than the second. Hell, the first pit wasn’t really a pit at all, if I’m to be quite honest.
I loved her, plain and simple. And I was doing all of this in an attempt to hide that. Not to change it, mind you. Because instinctively I knew that was a pretty tall order. Because barring an act of God, there was no chance of that happening. Its still something I cant explain. Maybe it has something to do with that tattoo I got. The one that said eternity…in Chinese.
Flip it around in your mind a couple of time and you might be apt to believe that maybe, just maybe, whether consciously or not, whether intentional or not, she branded me…for eternity. I distinctly remember my cousin Derrick saying as much anyway. And no I’m not about to make some harlequin reference to the song “Tattoo” by Jordin Sparks so squash that from your mind like as soon as immediately. And wipe that smile off your face as well. Because I am completely aware just how stupid and irrational that sounds. Like 21st century voodoo. Stick a needle in me and I’m yours forever. A load of crap right? Well, it’s either that or what some Mills & Boon reading, sixteen year old sobby little girl would have no problem calling “true love”. Now that’s a scary thought. Especially for this twenty-three year old guy who has always prided himself on his innate knack for playing the field. I mean, what would the guys think? And so I settled for talking trash with the best of them. Walking trash as well. Cos’ these days it’s a requirement that you back up your claims with action just so anyone will take you seriously.
But now, thirty-seven days in (or is it thirty-eight?) and the act is wearing pretty thin. This is not me. It never was. I was the quiet messy haired kid who sat in the back of the class and listened to metal while writing bad “I feel so alone” poetry.
And so where does that leave me?
Not quite between the Devil and the deep blue sea but certainly close enough to taste the salt on the breeze.
And so after much thought and much deliberation and after such agony…I choose love.