My Bed

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I guess the bigger problem with tonight was the very recent ex-girlfriend laying in my bed. I was out. Had a good time. But no matter what I thought about, there she was. Home. In my bed. My bed. Where I wanted to be. I can't say I didn't want her to be there. I did. Just not as my ex-girlfriend. I can't say I understand. It wasn't my decision. It was hers. Hers. As in not mine. And yet she is in my bed. Sleeping. I'm still out. On the way home (and writing this on my Blackberry). I want to be home sleeping and if the situation was different I would love to be home sleeping next to her. OK, no matter the situation, I'd like to be home sleeping next to her.

It's not a good idea, though. Sleeping next to her. All night it hung over my head. Where to sleep? The couch? Yes. The couch. No. My bed. Next to her. No. The couch. Back and forth. I never did make a decision. I made a promise, but not a decision. I've wanted to get home so I know what I decide. So I can stop wondering. It's the wondering that is killing me. I've never been good at strength and I'm not holding out much hope I'll sleep on the couch with is where I should sleep.

Why my bed? Why? We have a unique situation here in the house. But still... What does she want me to do? Sleep next to her? As what? Her ex-girlfriend. I'm sure that's it. Nothing to her. Everything to me. Yeah, that's it. I should really choose the couch.

And now it is morning and she is gone. I held her or she held me for the hours we slept next to each other. Now I lay where she laid and I can smell the faint scent of her. My head is a mess. It was just a place to sleep. Or so she said. Could she have slept elsewhere in the house? Maybe. I don't know. But this is what I'm left with. A fucked up head and the scent of her. In my bed.

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