I NEED TO KNOW WHO I AM&WHAT I'M GONNA DO WHILE I'M ON EARTH I NEED TO UNDERSTAND EVERYTHING AND...
I shouldn't take my feelings for him out on you. But really, isn't it true that I'm taking my feelings for someone else out on him?
In an inside-out, indirect sort of way, he was the face I saw when I read A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. What makes it too much more intense is that it could easily be him--he is that inspired, frustrated, tortured yet emphatic, talented Gen-X gorgeous tousled youth. If he has anything concrete in common with Dave Eggers it is in the way they both invoke so much inspiration in me--they both plant dreams in my ears of this soundtracked lifestyle of caring and notcaring and music and art and love but not too much love and sex and touching and bestfriends and creation and might! I still feel like he was sent to me as a cosmic whisper into my ear to make something more of myself. Even though the night we met was the rare night I can always be proud of. I was being what I wanted to be, fully, wholly, happy that night. I just wish that I had made something more of him. It is not too late.
Yet here I met this new boy. A boy with the same possibilities, charge, beauty. I am not in love with him, but I keep placing their faces where his would be if I knew him well enough to know his face. But he is the only one that will force me, I think, to pull through, to make something of this, of myself, of life and love and beauty and sex and creation and caring and not caring. I think he will change something for me, this boy I just met yet haven't met and don't really know that I excange fantastical bursts of unfounded inspiration with. I think he will save me.
It really isn't fair of me to expect this just because in my head, I imagine his face to be your face, to be Dave's face. Also, I'm not in love with him like I secretly sort of have been in love with you since the beginning. In a far, far away sort of way, of course.
In an inside-out, indirect sort of way, he was the face I saw when I read A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. What makes it too much more intense is that it could easily be him--he is that inspired, frustrated, tortured yet emphatic, talented Gen-X gorgeous tousled youth. If he has anything concrete in common with Dave Eggers it is in the way they both invoke so much inspiration in me--they both plant dreams in my ears of this soundtracked lifestyle of caring and notcaring and music and art and love but not too much love and sex and touching and bestfriends and creation and might! I still feel like he was sent to me as a cosmic whisper into my ear to make something more of myself. Even though the night we met was the rare night I can always be proud of. I was being what I wanted to be, fully, wholly, happy that night. I just wish that I had made something more of him. It is not too late.
Yet here I met this new boy. A boy with the same possibilities, charge, beauty. I am not in love with him, but I keep placing their faces where his would be if I knew him well enough to know his face. But he is the only one that will force me, I think, to pull through, to make something of this, of myself, of life and love and beauty and sex and creation and caring and not caring. I think he will change something for me, this boy I just met yet haven't met and don't really know that I excange fantastical bursts of unfounded inspiration with. I think he will save me.
It really isn't fair of me to expect this just because in my head, I imagine his face to be your face, to be Dave's face. Also, I'm not in love with him like I secretly sort of have been in love with you since the beginning. In a far, far away sort of way, of course.