I keep waking in these dying dreams

...We can go back to tackling the world, each other at our sides. Life isn't about settling, it's about living. It's about adventure. If I don't get into grad school, I'll move to Portland, or Seattle, San Francisco, Austin, New York. I'll get a job at Starbucks and get my teaching license. I'll reapply to grad school. I'll finish my novel and start a new one. I'll write about love, about independence, about adventure. I'll write poetry and go to open mic nights, where I'll fall in love with a swoopy-haired singer/songwriter that no one pays attention to. He'll serenade me and we'll sit at obscure cafes, smoking cigarettes and talking about literature, film, and how we want to change the world. We'll drink red wine and listen to Dean Martin, eating homemade pasta and dancing barefoot in the kitchen. We'll travel the world with his guitar and my pen, taking trains into obscurity and Neverland. We'll make love under the light of the stars, by a fireplace, with pain pattering the roof. Sundays will be spent in bed, in each other's arms, the sheets entangled around our bodies, only getting up for tea and pancakes. We'll be each other's inspiration, and life will be sweet and lovely.

This is what I want. This is what I can't find. This is what I dream about. This is what LA isn't offering me. This is the jazz of life.

But that, at the moment, is just a dream. My real life consists of working 9 to 6 at a job I despise, giving me just enough time at night to cook dinner, do yoga, shower, and sleep. It consists of sleeping my weekends away to catch up for the week of exhaustion. It consists of scouring Trader Joe's for cute boys to smile at, of living paycheck to late paycheck and barely affording insurance and rent. It consists of many one night makeouts with boys that don't want relationships. Of boys that tear out my heart. It consists of loneliness and being broken. My life is in shambles and I'm tired of always feeling alone. Though, at the moment, I rarely feel anything. I'm numb and jaded. I have no romantic interests or prospects. I have no angst, no hopefuls, no heartbreak to inspire me. It's why I can't write. I need change. Life is too mundane now. 

Last year, at this time, I was happy. I was becoming better friends with Banana, I was in love with a band, and I had shows to look forward to each week. But now, I don't even have them. He rarely talks to me now... our friendship is barely there and I miss it. I'm sorry if I used you and took advantage of your feelings for me. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I thought you were over me - you told me of other girls, asked about my boys. I'm sorry, and I miss you. I feel like Kate Hudson in Almost Famous... all I did was love your band, and you threw me away. Except instead of standing up for me, Banana is the one doing the throwing. And it hurts. It fucking hurts.

I miss. and miss. and miss. I miss Andrew. I miss James. I miss Zach, and AJ, and Max. I miss Clint. I miss Hither, I miss Kandyce. I miss my sister and when she used to be happy. I miss rain and cold and inspiration. I miss the way things used to be be, but I know I can't. go. back. Life isn't about the past or the future. It's about the right now. And right now, I miss.

I want to be the girl a guy pursues, the girl a guy loves. I want him to want to wait for me. I want to inspire him. I want him to take me to shows and plays and long walks under the stars. I want to take pictures of us, happy and in love. I want him to call me, to save the world for me. I want to bake him cookies and laugh at his glasses. I want him to kiss me and sprinkle flour in my hair. I want to argue, to bicker, to banter, but never go to bed angry. I want to be wanted. I'm tired of all the words - that's all I've ever gotten from boys. I want action to back them up. I want to be the best thing they've ever had, and I don't want to be thrown away once they've "conquered" me. I'm tired of the AJ's, the Max's, the Mike's, the Zach's. 

I guess I want too much. And I fear that because of that, I'll never know love.