Malibu

I’m lying here in my misery trying to create a blueprint for my future..wondering if it includes you; wondering if I want it to include you, or if I just want it to be me, my guitar, the ocean, and a small, cozy, beach house off the coast of Malibu.

We hold so many differences and I keep straining myself trying to decipher rather that’s a good addition to a healthy relationship or if it’s toxic to our once perfect entity; then I continue to think.

I try to figure out if I’m that contaminate to our relationship. If I’m the reason why we always fight. If I’m the reason why you called me a “ticking time bomb” as a label of my depression. If I’m the reason why I cried over you for three months. If I’m the reason why we just won’t fucking click.

Maybe it’s because I keep comparing us to my previous relationships. The ones that weren’t this hard, complicated, hurtful, or tiring. The ones that were just simple fun and pure love.

When I think of my perfect relationship I always envision a writer or an artist. Someone who could connect with my troubled mentality and need for pen and paper at all times. Someone who understands the need for earphones. Someone who understands the callus’ on my finger tips from the love I’ve made to my guitar.

Someone who I could kiss for an eternity and when he falls asleep, with his head in my lap, I could just run my fingers through his hair and watch his chest slowly rise and fall; describing his innocent perfectness with a slightly less perfectly composed melody.

What do I do,

Stay, or move on?