Catalysts.

Finals wrecked havoc on your social schedule, we didn't go out for weeks. Even in the months leading up to the climax of your academic semester, we kept it to a down low without going out unless it was a social convention we couldn't opt out of but even then, you dropped some of them. Seven months and counting since that wish in May. August was the last terrible month, I remember those single moments that were hoped for for weeks on end only to be dashed at that moment in time. The first weekend in September was a welcome respite, three days in a row to make up for an entire month. Proportionality is lost on me when relief arrives , finally.

For weeks and weeks I've waited for finals to pass. For your hard work to conquer those finals, earn you the grades that you deserve, and then we could finally have our time together uninterrupted. Albeit I wasn't always the most patient of individuals, I always did support your endeavors to choose work over everything as well as to continually commend you on your efforts to remain dedicated. Even when it meant risking my parents' approval, which did land me more scathing words from my mother than i've had in months, I endured it because you were worth it. 

Finals are over and it was supposed to be a joyous occasion for us both. Even though I slept at 1 am trying to practice piano, I still woke up at 6 to be your company and I still stayed awake for an hour long phone call that early to help you study on the way to your last final for the semester. In return, I get left to worry on if everything was ohkay after your final was over. But, that always seems to happen now and again when your worries are over and you have your friends to be your buffer. And then I find out last minute that the joyous day I'd waited for isn't to happen today. Work is over so I'm not needed anymore. Over and over that sad sentiment played in my mind that what if those accursed words my mother had voiced had taken root? or not to even doubt your sincerity, but that she herself would see the truth for her words? Even when you reminded me not to care what she thinks, I realized that even I had harbored that sentiment. That somewhere inside my being nestled in amongst all my insecurities was the small harbored fear that I was merely being used. Visits to do work and spend time with me; work was over so the visits would end. The correlating factor between the visits merely seemed to be work. No sorrow even expressed about that loss on your part but waves and waves of sadness cresting within me, toppling incessantly over one another again and again; flooding the shallow depths of my being with intensity. yet, nothing but pure cheerfulness from you. 

At times that cheerfulness fills me with ire; cheerfulness and anger, that's all you seem to be composed of. Your sorrow stems more from mine yet rarely do I feel true sorrow on your part, like your heart is breaking at the thought of not having me. 

Why then is that? Why must it feel like I would break to be deprived of you but that you can endure even when faced with a limiting factor of that reality? Why must it be that I feel like it would shatter me yet you always remain whole, intact? Why must it feel as if your pieces are littered within me but that mine exist in an entire entity outside of you? Is that how men maintain their composure, by never assimilating a women into themselves? Yet women can do nothing but assimilate men into their essence, their very being and only hope that he never be torn away from her lest her break into a  million pieces in the process?

The hours grow tonight as I should be finishing my work yet find myself on here once more. A heart used to bleed ink onto the pages, but that medium is ineffective no more when thoughts spin too quickly to be weaved tangibly. Why I still wait for you alludes me at times, I would never dream of pouring such consequences to you. 

I cracked this morning and texted. I cracked in the afternoon and texted. Will I crack tonight once more? 

I tell myself I won't, but we all know I am far too weak to resist you. It makes me wonder, however, why you never are. 

I had you in the morning, but then you had to go.

I waited.

I had you for the interim, but then you had to go.

I worried.

I had you once more, but then you let me down.

I felt it.

I thought the worst was over, but I see it was meant for last.

I felt it.