“And the weather was so damn sick of being predictable; I heard it began snowing in the Sahara and I wanted to tell you that I’ve changed.”

One morning, you were crying. All I could think of was that scene from Friends where David the Scientist Guy sees Phoebe for the first time in years and says, “You know how, when you don’t see someone for a long time, and you kind of build up an image of them in your head, and you’re like, ‘come on now, nobody’s that beautiful’; well, you are.”

     Apparently, she has left you, and my timeline is now brimming with your vent tweets saying you’re the ‘weaker one’ and how you couldn’t believe she ‘wasn’t listening to you anymore’ while I was sitting in my bedroom, rereading the things I previously wrote about you, and holding on to every. fucking. word. you. ever. said. to. me.

I reread my journal this morning, and I saw that I wrote about meeting you three times, on three separate occasions, completely oblivious that I've written about you before. No, like literally - the same boring narrative, retold three times, without any recollection that I've previously written about it. I mean, how ridiculous is that? I liked someone else at the time, but you, somehow I just couldn't shut up about you. You know what I wrote, three painstaking times

You walk in an unsure gait. Like, in the corner of my eye, I could see your friends walking with exuberance, and a couple seconds later, I’d see you, awkwardly catching up, taking steps heel first. I’ve never seen anyone walk like that. 

Okay, I have to admit - I never noticed you until someone told me you listen to some band I like. I know, you're thinking, "ugh. There it is. Falsely Angsty Teenage Girl with averagely obscure music taste falls for Random Kid From Class solely for the fact that he listens to the same bands she does. My God. Give this girl her Nobel Prize already." I totally agree, but extreme humdrum-ness aside, what could I do? I wake up feeling all shitty because wow, yet another day of doing things I don’t want to do, but then I see you, and I think, hey, maybe today won’t be so bad. I mean, nothing with you in it can be that bad. Only good things come out from days with you in it. It looks like people shaped the clouds after your smile, for fuck's sake. 

I think our story should be read to children before they go to bed.
Do you know what it was like to feel this for you? Think of it as eating cotton candy. Everyone loves cotton candy - it's all sweet and soft and puppies and rainbows and unintentionally standing next to each other and 'are you busy? I want to talk' messages, and suddenly the days are brighter my smile is wider everything is beautiful. I love life. 

Of course I keep eating eating eating because this is the best I've felt in a long time. Of course I mistake it for something real, for actual nutrition. Of course the sugar works its way to my system and this bigunforeseen, scary pang of ache seeps into my gums. Of course I ignore the fact that I am indeed decaying because I'm already on a sugar high and no painful reality check can make me come down.


Do you know what it was like to feel this for you? Like I'm a magician - creating something out of nothing; you could give me a raindrop and I'd still drown.
I used to think you were the sun, but now I'm burning in flames. I guess I got too close for my own good.

I wish I didn’t feed off of seeing you. I wish I didn’t squeal over your stupid mannerisms to any person who was with me. I wish I never noticed the way you tangle your arms or the way you walk. I wish I didn’t constantly worry about you because you might have woken up at 4 am and cried about her again. I wish I didn’t always check up on you to see if you were getting better. I wish you weren’t the first person I wanted to tell everything to. I wish I didn’t make a castle out of my own blood and skin for you when all you needed was a damn chair. I wish I never thought that I actually meant something, even a little bit, to you, because who the hell am I kidding? I’d cross all oceans to give you a glass of water, but you’re not even thirsty. 

At the end of the day, when you close your eyes at night to the thought of her name, and all that has to be said to me has been said,

I think I made up our story in my head.
In the 87, 600 minutes we have not talked, or even looked in each other's direction, I want you to know that I scoured the city for boys like you and I stumbled upon someone who walks exactly like you and maybe you don't hold the sun in your smile like I initially thought. 

So I guess this is it. You may have been the subject of all my weird, late night poetry and you may have been the only source of light in my life lately, but maybe I’m fonder of darkness now. So to the most beautiful human being I had the fortune of laying my eyes on, to the person who never failed to make me smile even on days when we didn’t speak, to my fellow music nerd, to the person who made me feel like all the stars belonged to me, thank you. Thank you for making me the happiest I’ve been in a long, long time. You still run through my mind from time to time, but I’m not going to chase after you anymore. About damn time, right? 

And maybe there will come a time when I won’t check our thread of messages to see if I miraculously missed a message from you or type your username in the Twitter search bar to see if you’re not as sad as before, and maybe we can start talking again like nothing happened, and maybe you’ll treat me like your other friends, but until then, I’ll be avoiding looking at you, trying my best to flush my whatever-feelings for you as if they don’t exist, and treat the thought of someone as beautiful as you existing in the same world as me like a security blanket from my childhood – a thing that comforted me like any other, but a thing of the past nonetheless. 

You know how when people ask me why I’m stuck up on you, I just say that I never chose you, you just came and started changing things forever? Well, if it’s any consolation, if we were in a different world or some alternate universe, I’d choose you. I always will. 

May you find happiness, L. I really, really, really hope you do.

Disclaimer: Okay, you got me. I have no idea if this is fictional or not. I hate being an Adolescent With Feelings™

1 comment:

  1. I'm really in love with this post. I love how you used different digital tools to make like a... Short story motion (if that makes any sense lol). It's just so creative. :)