She might be the smartest girl I know

And yet, I get to wake up at 2 to her text messages of barely intelligible thought. She’s not drunk. It’s her custom greeting. I flip my phone open, to find it. “Roar” I put the phone down, for a second. Like a chess piece, I find myself unable to take my hand off of it, for fear I might lose my turn. I grab the phone again, and shoot back something simple. Hi. Hey. Whats up. Go to sleep. Stuff like that. She loves to do this. She loves to let me go, play house with some other guy by day, but try and keep me on a string. I wish I was better at fighting it. But she keeps me around for the mental orgasm. For the wit, for the biting humor that brought us together in the first place. It’s the sign of strong people.Strong people who have screamed at each other and fought and cried and been way more hurt than loved over this whole thing. She’s cause me to inhale more cigarettes she’s ever intended, and I don’t normally smoke. I laugh in my own bed. This is hardly normal. I get my text reply back. In the brief second of ringing and opening, I wonder if its going to be another intelligble word, a smiley face, a sarcastic comments. Sometimes she just puts “No” to get me going, and— “Can I see you” I put the phone down, set my alarm for the morning, and roll over into sleep. Eyes wide. I may have been the one left, but I can’t do this right now. I feel like, in that same chess piece, I’m only a pawn.

Submitted by cliffclinton.