.. kinds of water

[ivy westerveldt]

THERE are many kinds of water; the kinds that run down your cheeks when your heart feels completely broken, and the kinds that have separated tomas and i.

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the latter is what i cannot help but dote over now. i think it's only been less than a week since i've last seen him.. i grab my phone that has been beneath my pillow all night, awaiting that familiar ringtone, love the way you lie, the obnoxious but necessary tone i felt the need to give him the day i heard the song. he always tells me to change it, that it embarrasses him, and that it's obnoxious when it goes off in public. but i can't be bothered too. it hasn't rung though, which does not surprise me as its eight am in london right now, and without my persistent pleas for him to wake up, he'd sleep all day if he could. i trace through our messages, those too are lacking.

Tomas Martin: "Here safe." February 18, 2011 02:34am.

how in the world could that have just been four days ago? these nights aren't spent in the manner that i've been used to. i like it, but i don't. drinking isn't even something that appeals to me on a night-to-night basis, but lately it seems as if it's all there is to do. i don't plan on going and getting dinner alone, watching movies alone, walking around in aimless directions alone, and for some god forsaken reason all people do well here is have a good time while intoxicated in some way, shape, or form. a slight part of me feels hypocritical, like i took all of this anger and frustration out on flora for doing the same thing.. but it's not the same thing. she was doing it because she was depressed, or bored. either way, our intentions both lie in completely different places. every other time we've called things quits, all i could do was lay in bed for days, there was no communication to the world outside of my bedroom. the only thing on my mind was him, and i can't do that this time.

with that i muster up the strength to get out of bed. my head feels like it did last night when i woke up, spinning, a sharp pain in my temples, my mouth dry and my voice raspy from the night before. i can't remember how i got here, when i changed out of my dress, where that dress even is.. but as i walk out into the french room, i see the slight remains of the night before. an ashtray flooding with cigarette butts, a good twelve empty bottles of strongbow, wait, i don't even like cide.. but then there is a note from travis.

"I had to grab some more things from my place, be back later."

that explains it. i almost feel as though we're dating again, even though we have been completely platonic. it's more of the counting on him all over again, expecting him to be there, trusting him when he says he'll be back. it feels weird knowing that we only just broke up a month and a year ago. it feels as though it's been forever, and like it was just yesterday all at once. at the end of the day, the only thing that has changed is the fact that we're not sleeping together. but even that has almost happened one too many times in the past year. he knows very well that this is all out of character, the only time i've been that girl who is out until the sunlight every early morning is when i'm single.. which is also not in character. a year and a month ago it was travis. two weeks later there was peter, the business man by day, but the well rehearsed lover by night, he knew just how to quell my emotions but that only lasted two months before i met tomas.

but now there is no tomas, he's still everywhere. i know very well this all sounds overly dramatic, which is why i won't put anyone through hearing it. instead it remains in the back of my mind. i know he'll be back, i know we will get back together, but that's not enough to get me out of this slump right now. i would rather literally and physically have my own pity party until i get used to this new day-to-day routine.

i shower quickly, my hair and make up is done even quicker, and i'm slipping into my young, fabulous, and broke leather leggings - i see the tear in the waistband, the result of tomas having too much to drink one night and being far too eager to get into the bedroom - but i leave them anyways, and put on the wrinkled up ysl t-shirt hanging over the chaise lounge. i grab my coat and bag, but only after shooting travis a text telling him i'm going out.

that night turns into everything these past nights have been. three or four blue moon cocktails, several shots of jager. and he's no long trailing within my mind. i find solace in these men. though all i want from them is the attention they are so eager to give. each one is undistinguishable from the next, unkempt hair, they're just hungry; for booze, young attractive girls, and what those girls are willing to give. the majority of the girls here are willing to give them what they want, but despite this drunken haze i couldn't, and i wouldn't. though my actions may lead them to believe otherwise.

from the corner of the club i can just barely hear stereo love begin to play over.. let's just him jonathan's, drunken stupors. mumbling something about getting out of here, but i drag him out to the dance floor, ignoring his pleas to leave. he doesn't like to dance, but tonight i love it. there's this dance they always made fun of me for in high school, one i couldn't help but do while under the influence, and now it's obvious not much has changed. one hand lays on my knee as the other hands stray fingers direct him towards me, hips swaying to my favorite song. he comes after a moment of resistance, his hands pull me closer and closer until there's not an inch of a gap between us. "let's just get out of here,

[/i]" he whispers into my neck, but i pull away, back in dance mode. "come onnnn..[/i]" he groans as he attempts to take my hand, but i pull that away too. "no![/i]" i scream over the music, i pout and he is back where he was only seconds ago, i don't owe him anything. "yes,[/i]" he says as he barely begins to dance. reluctantly i agree with his pleas, but only to get out of the crowded club and onto the street and hail a cab to my own place. he slurs something about where he lives, and i shake my head. "why do you have to be like that?[/i]" he attempts to plea as if i'd known him forever and typically went home with him. i veer closer towards the street, stumbling a bit before i extend my arm waving a cab down. that's all there is to love about new york now, cabs at your disposal. i begin getting into one only a moment later, and he tries to trail behind me. had i not made it clear? "ok, guy in need of a clue. here's one.. women send signals. that was a brush off. before you dip into your shallow pool of wit, let me paint us a picture and save us both the trouble. here's the rest of your night.. you are going to go back to your guys, laugh this off, get wasted, and have some fun with yourself. but don't be thinking of me, because even your fantasy of me.. isn't interested in you.[/i]" the look on his face makes me laugh, even though i try so hard to keep it in, that was the most i said throughout the entire course of the night. he probably had no idea i even had an accent.

but within a matter of moments, i'm back here again, struggling to find my keys within my clutch. but to my surprise, the door is not even locked. i'm not surprised to see travis here, sleeping on the couch as he's done the past few nights. i hover over him, my hands on each side of his stubbly cheeks in attempt to wake him up, but he's still as tough of a sleeper as anything, not waking up, or even flinching. and with that i stumble into my room, into my uncharacteristically unmade bed, clothes still on, and i reach for my phone. there were missed calls, but none from the only person that i wanted them to be from. so i can't control myself any longer, i text him, multiple times within the minute. 'are you awake?' 'wake up?' 'what are you doing?' but there is no response, i call the familiar number, not only once, or twice, but three times. i could have left the message straight away, but the sound of his voice has smiling at the ceiling as if he's only in the next room. but then i manage to leave one, "hi baby, sorry i called and texted so many times,[/i]" i begin to mumble but my attention soon strays, and i forgot if i had a reason for calling in the first place, and my head begins to spin. "fuck my life, what is that thing you taught me for when your heads spinning? you put one leg on the ground?[/i]" i almost forget that he hasn't answered and wait for a response. "i don't knowwwww.. how's trent? and his slutty mum?[/i]" i ask, but i soon regret it, "totally didn't even mean that. but i just hate her. but i just miss youu. but i really just love you..[/i]" i say before hanging up, forgetting to even say goodbye and ask him to call me back.

and there i am again, calling over, and over, just to hear that familiar voice on the other line. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/font][/sub]