It's that sinking, flying, spinning, frozen feeling in the pit of your stomach when he catches your eye from across the room
To all of the lovers, to the ones who have someone, and the one's who don't. To the ones who never have and think they never will. To the ones who feel alone. I got something to say to you!
I was sad once. I was lonely and inexperienced in love and relationships. Then I met him...
He changed everything. He made my life so full of hope and happiness and life. It was great for so long. We would eat homemade popcorn and cookies together. We got each other presents for Christmas and kissed when no one was looking. We would go to breakfast often and find eachother wanting everything we could possibly give to each other. It was love. It still is.
But I went away and it's okay. We are not together and that’s okay. I was sad and lonely before I met him because I didn't really know what kind of person I was. He taught me that I am picky, because I can never liked his stupid cartoons. He taught me that I was insecure because I never told him where I really wanted to eat or what I really wanted to do. He taught me how to move forward. He taught me that I am exactly who I need to be and that I am loved.
And let me tell you. You are amazing and you don't need to be sad or lonely. This world is yours and it is not waiting for you. Surround yourself with the people you love and the ones who love you. Be happy and do stupid things.
I love him. And I always will.
You'll have that. I promise. But in the meantime, just remember that you are one cool cat and he or she is just around the corner. So be happy and live.
Dear older me,
I wanted to let you know some things that I figured out. So if some day you start questioning yourself and some boy makes your head hazy and you can't separate attraction from connection...I can knock some sense into you. And you may hate me, but I promise you:
1. If you can't think out loud in front of him, if saying what you really think without editing is too risky, then he's not the one.
2. If he doesn't appreciate music like you do, then he's not the one.
3. If he doesn't fall in love with your family, then he's not the one.
4. If you can't sing in the car when he's there, he's not the one.
5. If you don't believe him when he says that you are beautiful, (and he better) then he's not the one.
6. If you don't fall more in love with him as you learn more about him, then he's not the one.
7. If he doesn't share your dark sense of humor, then he's not the one.
8. If he won't leave you alone to work when you ask him, he's not the one.
9. If he can't handle the fact that you are tall, then he's not the one.
10. If he is painfully extraverted, then he's not the one. (Even though you might argue, but you know how introverted you are.)
11. If he doesn’t want kids, then he’s not the one.
12. If he wouldn’t wait forever for you, he’s not the one.
19 year old you
sometimes, when i write your first initial, it feels like i'm writing to myself, and then i remember the way you thought i was beautiful and caring and funny, and i never saw myself the way you did.
sometimes, when i write your full name, it feels like i'm writing to a stranger, but i didn't lay on my bedroom floor half undressed for a stranger and do the closest thing we knew to making love, and say i love you to a stranger.
sometimes, when i write about what we used to be, i think about what could have been, and where things went wrong, and i hate that, because you were never supposed to feel wrong. you were only supposed to fit into my side and kiss me goodnight on christmas eve and wake me up to santa and snow because, oh god how badly i wanted to spend christmas in michigan with you.
sometimes, when you text me after days and weeks and months of not speaking, my stomach fills with butterflies when i recognize the three digits of your area code, and i immediately save your number and reply, and then it's 12:17 am and you haven't replied in five hours and everything feels pathetic and lonely, and everyone telling me i need to block you is right.
sometimes, when my finger hovers over the block contact button, i shake a little bit and i think about how i promised you forever, and everybody else is holding onto me by my last string, praying to some god out there that i don't give up when you do, but it's getting later and you haven't replied, and we all know better than to think i'll really block your number this time.
sometimes, after i type out my message: i love you, and i miss you, and everyone is wrong because we could have been beautiful together, don't you agree? i remember that you don't, because beautiful people don't have to beg to be a masterpiece, it just happens.
october 28, 2014 : 12:19 am
When I think about how I'm in love with you, I hear piano music in my head. It crescendoes until the strings come in, gentle and sad, reminding me that I have no chance, letting me down softly from this cloud I'm in.
But it's right in the forte that I get lost. Right in the crazy pounding of the keys, passionate and full, shamelessly honest and strong and everything I want to be. There is no such thing as an infinite fermata, but if there were, it would go right there: hanging in the balance of you and me.
I was just sitting, waiting for my class to start, and I saw that girl, talking and laughing with friends. She talked with them but sometimes, frequently, her eyes switched to the left. So when I noticed that, I followed her gaze, and there was a group of boys sitting on the stairs. I couldn't tell which one she was looking at with those bright eyes until she smiled slightly when the blond one smiled at his friend. That was a really kind smile. Like she was telling herself : I am glad he is smiling.
Then days after, I saw him at the bus station. Not knowing why I started to stare at him. Until he smiled all of a sudden, throwing his gaze to the ground. And when I narrowed my eyes, I saw that girl walking on the opposite sidewalk.
I found that beautiful. And sad. Beautiful, because among all those people at school, the two of them noticed each other. And sad, because they are still apart from each other.
Sometimes you both admit that you like each other but you realize that you don't like each other enough to be in a relationship.
And then you're stuck in an awkward place between friendship and relationship where you still get jealous of the other person's romantic interests but you don't feel like a relationship is the right next step.
That's real life, folks. And I don't know what to do about it.
I secretly keep a list of all the kindest things you've said to me, those things which warmed my heart and made me feel special. I know it's stupid and maybe even a little creepy, but I have this horrible habit of doubting people's intentions, their faithfulness. I know that if I can pull out my little book of your sweet nothings and read a few, I can be reminded that this suspicion and doubt is all in my head, and that you do care.
It's you. It's you all the time. It's you at 2 AM when I'm balancing on the tightrope between consciousness and slumber, it's you at 3PM when school just gets out and I rush to our place on the last bench to the right nearby the theater, it's you at 6PM while I'm staring down at my dinner, rearranging my peas or rice grains to look like your name. It's such a shame how you don't notice the extended glances I send you during class, and the sheepish smiles and flushes that follow when you catch me. I know I'm only a teenager with a thousand metaphors for this so-called "love", but it gives me a tingling sensation of pins and needles that replaces the numbness that used to linger beneath my skin in a way that only you could trigger. I know you don't feel the same because of the way you look at her. Maybe, just maybe, if I had her figure, or her hair, or her smile, or the cute freckles that resemble constellations as shown in her brown eyes. Maybe if I had her sense of humor, or her laugh, or her ability to carry on a conversation without any holes between my speech. I have no idea what love is, but the way you make me feel is exactly how warmth in a bitter cold winter feels, no matter how much I'm imagining that loving heat. But what if there's something greater buried beneath these useless metaphors and awkward first impressions? What if there's something more that chocolate waterfall hair, or stars littered across cheeks and irises? I'll learn eventually. Not this time. Not next time. Not the time after that. Hopefully, I learn not to fall in love with boys who don't love boys, like me. Maybe I'll learn not to fall in love with boys that like cute galaxy freckles and long hair. Not to fall in love with boys that like girls smaller than them with tiny waists. I'll learn, eventually. But until I learn, I'll binge on the little attention you give me now.
-The boy you don't look at twice.