I remember our first conversation and how you said that I suffer because of how sensitive I am to the world. Frail heart with a red smile. Life happens to us and we’ll change. We’re not perfect and that’s okay. I’m selfish and hollow too. Living in your 20s with so much on your mind. I think it’s normal to feel like a bad friend or a bad lover. We’ll fix it someday, won’t we? Can we?
People don’t understand us, they don’t think like us. Have you heard about the paradox of choice? There is an infinite amount of things to do– it ultimately leads back to who you truly want to be. Time doesn’t stop for anyone, it passes us by like clouds during a normal day. Maybe that’s why it’s called the past. You learn to love people, but they may never learn to love you. Well… at least not how you’d want them to. Humans are strange, we built a society that tells us you are more if you have more and you ain’t shit if you ain’t got shit. We sold our souls a long time ago. Our identities crushed by the pressures of our peers and our parents. I’m sick and tired of people telling me how to live my life. What is the point of freedom if your mind is a slave to material things? We’re out of touch with reality. We have forgotten about Mother Nature. The trees and the bees are upset with us. Flawed creatures searching for a future amongst dollar signs. I guess that is kinda morbid. Time is running out and the choices we’ll make today– they affect tomorrow in ways that we can’t see. You’re sensitive to the world. Always have been, always will be. That’s who I am.
I wake up with both feet hitting the ground running through a forest of dreams designed to break my fall, but I always loved head first– I’d rather break my heart a few times than to not love at all and maybe that’s my biggest problem. I sleep with thoughts of maybe some day, I’ll have something that’s close to home, something that’s less dream and more real, something that’s more poetic and aesthetic– and it’s kinda shallow, but if we humans don’t dig a little deeper to add some depth, what’s the point of this jellyfish in our skull? We’re too numb. We’re too numb. I’d rather love and feel dumb, than to run and run some more. I’d break both of my legs to catch up to someone. But that’s the thing, would someone do that for me?
I’ve read too many books to know that not every story has closure. I could spend the rest of my life asking questions I’d never get a firm answer to. Maybe this is why I fear getting close to new people. It is never easy. Every person has the potential to become another midnight poem, another piece of ink-drenched speculation when I get tired of the words ‘What if’ being on the tip of my tongue with no answer in sight. When I open up to you, I do so in the hope that one day I’ll write about you with satisfaction guiding my hands and you by my side to extinguish the fires my mind loves to ignite when night falls and silence overtakes me.
I do so with a heart that wants to love and will never stop loving you. All I ask in return is that you don’t become another cliffhanger.
How do you see yourself? A list of things that we should talk about, a bit of you within every room, a memory for every smile you’ve so freely given away, so I’ll ask again. How do you see yourself with me? Do I really make you happy?