(no subject)
i can't tell you how many things run in my mind every day.
things i try to write down.
things i try just to even grasp,
but lose in the flutter of the hustle and bustle.
i wonder how you feel,
and i wonder if i really know how you feel,
but refuse to see it.
i wonder if you really aren't over her,
and i wonder if she is more important
or if i'll always be most important.
i wonder what keeps you from opening up to me.
i wonder if i'll ever get you to open up.
if you did,
would it really be perfect?
you sign on late at night,
because you know i'll be on.
its middle school repeated.
you sit next to me and smoke,
blowing it in my face.
you call me on your lunch breaks.
you call me when you buy something new.
you call me. a lot.
you text me when i don't expect it,
and don't when i wait for it.
you respect my lack of sex.
you respect me, in a sense.
you do me favors without whining,
infact, i think you like it, because i think you like
the idea of a reason to spend time with me.
you're hooked into my loop of friends.
your friends love me, and they hate her.
i liked her,
but she didn't want me to.
and that bothered you.
you try to understand her,
because you want her to understand you.
but you don't want me to.
you're scared.
i just don't know why.
in a perfect world,
you'd let yourself fall.
if you could stop being reserved
and just fall,
i wonder...
you used to say,
always used to say,
something drew you to me.
what i never said
was that i was drawn to you.
i didn't want to admit it.
but i was. and i am.
i still don't believe it.
i don't believe in what you believe,
that we're meant to be together.
i don't believe
we're each other's "ONE".
i believe more people are out there.
i don't believe that fate
will always keep us together.
i don't believe it.
but holy god,
sometimes,
when you're next to me,
holy moses do i feel it.
who knows.
you may never come around.
who knows,
maybe you will and i'll already have given up for good.
who knows.
maybe you "will" and then
you'll leave me again and again and
the cycle will continue.
or maybe,
this is me,
tracing back and forth between old
forgotten lines
decided how
and when
and why
and so on and so forth
to get rid of you,
once and for all.
or maybe,
i'll never fall out of love.
years and years of this,
how could i put it behind me?
how do i begin to put you behind me?
you've always been there,
in the background.
how do i pain a new background,
and a new foreground,
even a new middle ground,
completely from scratch?
oy. oy vey. years and years.
what did i get myself into.
in 8th grade,
i had a choice.
i wonder if i chose the wrong one.