I wish she would get out of my head.

I was meeting up with friends to study. For some reason we traveled not too far off of campus to someone's house. Immediately when we got to the house, something felt off. We went inside and it quickly became apparent to me why I had a funny feeling outside. The first person I saw was Mrs. S, Cristi's mom. Next I saw Cristi laying on the couch talking on the phone. She looked at me, about to say something, but something kept her from verbalizing the thoughts in her head. I don't know why my friends and I ended up here at Cristi's house, but we went out into the garage to study. We left and everything went into fastfoward until the next week. The same friends and I were going to study, but somehow knowing that they were going back to Cristi's house, I decided to study somewhere else. I asked one of the guys (there were four of us) if he would come with me. He said no and somehow persuaded me to go back; I would equate my response to that of a man being wooed by a siren (a manly siren that is) because there was no way I was going to go back willingly. We got there and this time I saw Mr. S and Cristi's little brother Jorge. Cristi was dressed like she was going out and looked gorgeous, she was on the phone. Mrs. S was making her authentic Mexican food as usual. Again we made our way to the garage to study. Cristi came outside and looked at me. The kind of look that burns right through to your soul, but not in a bad way. The kind of look we used to give each other right before we passionately made out. All of this stirring up emotions of loss and longing. Missing Mr. and Mrs. S and the rest of their family.

Dreams should be my sanctuary, my time to leave my hurting for a brief while in order to keep my sanity. I wake up, feeling a pang in my chest. Yearning to cry and let it all out since noone else was there with me. I knew it would feel great to have a good cry about it, yet my body was conspiring against me. A thought from a little while ago pops into my head. I remember Cristi talking about me not being emotional enough for her when we broke up. I remember thinking the following to myself one day driving down the interstate:
"I'm not a person who lacks emotions. They just don't show themselves as often as in other people... I do have them and feel emotinoal pain just like anyone else... it's just that the tears of my heart don't manifest in the tear ducts of my eyes."

Why can't I get her out of my head?