(no subject)
I first met you back in the winter. You liked to laugh and I was more concentrated on my cold fingers and the hard blue plastic seats. Time ticks and life goes on, you busy with your life, and I with mine. Sheet music and cold choir rooms do not disturb you, sitting higher up on the three tears, me on the second to the bottem. Existing in the same world can seem as separate as existing in two different worlds. Not to deny the fact that I wish I had the courage to talk to you, because I didn't have the courage. It was nice, at the end of the spring, to get out of school, to smile and cut hair. They don't tell girls to be outgoing, well that's ok. I started to wonder if I would ever see you again, to hear that laugh of yours. Or to see you sing another song about an ice cube. I closed my eyes and woke up on a plane to Hawaii next to eighty year old lovers and windows full of sky blue. Its hard to recall faces you want to remember. I wonder if this happens to you too. Then we find ourselves at an art show, you've got ripped jeans and like to talk about Star Wars. Whenever I open my mouth to speak I feel silly and akward, like my mouth is too big for my words. Me with my hands tucked in my pockets and you with hand movements that gave you half the world. Girls that broke your heart and situations that made you give up faith in certain parts of your life. I wanted to change that, I didn't like the hurt in your voice. More talks on the phone and I don't know what to do, everything feels so natural. I want to say that L word but people say to me you are too young, driving down the interstate hair mussed up without days of sleep. I am old and mature, people need to stop telling me what to do and think. I wonder what you think. The newspaper doesn't say this, but, this is the summer of us.
School is good. I'm already busy. I'm sorry I havn't said anything or commented to you my dear friends, I really do care though & I read your entries.