ones that are generally pretty great because I get to see him for several hours at a time but are marred with a cloud of stress and back-breaking amounts of homework to follow that bliss, frustrate me to no end.
It should probably make me happy that we manage to find the time we do, but it doesn't. I find myself literally outraged with our circumstances, which are nothing more than youth and overcommitment. Any time I put words to it, it sounds almost ridiculous, but it's the easiest thing in my heart: I want white sheets on a king size bed. Our bed. In Our house, with hardwood floors and open windows. With Our own denim couch. I want no commitment, no classes, no phones. The option to lie in bed all weekend, should we choose. I want to have hot green tea while he sleeps with his arm across my waist and his hair a mess. I want to wake up, some day, to the sound of Our children running down the hall, the scent of baby, and crayons on the floor. I want never to miss him again, never to sleep without him. I want this and everything else.
I'm ready for that, and it just seems so unfair that we have to say goodbye every night. I just want to curse time, slap it around a bit. It seriously pisses me off. Depresses me. Maybe it's just something within me that has things wrong, but it feels exactly the opposite. I know that there's still the rest of this year, and then college, and then who knows what. But if I had my way right in this moment, that's how it would all play out in the end. He and me, together.
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