You remind me of fall

You remind me of the holidays

You remind me that

if you do anything, don’t fall back in love with her.

You remind me of of the color green.

Lifelike, various shades, wanting to be seen.

You remind me of to feel sad.

Loneliness, as if you are a professional nomad.

You remind me of everything I want.

I’ve never given myself to others. Start with one letter then ready for our next event.

M and A but don’t forget the R. ‘Wait no, sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

Words become another paragraph. Typing them out in my bed and never on paper. How does this sound?

“On behalf of your feelings, please don’t consider me later.”

“Don’t come off too eager. Firm but gentle.” I take this advice to future accounts.

But remember, remember men must feel as though they are the keeper so don’t speak up when they mispronounce.

How do I make myself more desirable when all I want to do is make him laugh?

Add another paragraph down, and one more on the way. Another one of your rhymes has given me everything I’ve needed to say.

Now, let’s add an L, B, and the first O. Put the first cigarette up to your mouth. Breathe in and perhaps you won’t remember to breathe out.

Why did I ask? “Have them wanting you without you telling.”

Be beautiful without your mask. Act like you’re not in disarray when they leave you unread.

Take your cigarettes away. Throw them in the trash.

You didn’t let me reach for one in your newest pack. I conclude with the second R and the final O with moments captured by your flash.

Lite the cigarette. Your unused ones are for sale. Make them burn. The smoke is now in my nose, up and floating in the air.

You won’t let me purchase your newest pack? Why is it so special? What is it that’s holding you back from reaching a status that is level?

If you were to ask me, “am I here?”, I’m not sure I could answer the question. Well, wholeheartedly anyway.

In order for me to be “here,” I would have to leave my “now.”

I would have to leave living in my thoughts and I don’t think I’m quite there yet.

Living within my thoughts, day in and day out, is some where I have lived for a long time.

I had no intention of moving on from that space. Why leave for something unknown when something amazing is about to start?

It’s a familiar feeling, living inside your thoughts and dreams. The feeling is just as comforting as a physical home.

It is where I have always wanted to be and a place that I was never forced to attend.

Living in my mind has brought acceptance and belonging to my world that I never knew was possible.

A world in which I can live my life how I want to, as delusional as I see it.

A me seen without judgement, shame, or doubt.

When you find a place you love to live, why give it up? Because it’s not conventional? Because you don’t understand, makes it damaging to me? Why does everyone find the need to know what is best for me? When is the time that I get to know what is best for me?

I’m not sure if I can be here fully, or there entirely.

I’m not there, in the moment. I’m not here in the now. My world 100% of the time.

Wherever I am, so much time meticulously planning out days where I lay in the grass and smell the daffodils.

My here and my there is such a beautiful space.

Maybe one day, you’ll open your mind, too.

Here, you will read a poem. For you.

What if my love can’t be in a book?
What will happen to my heart?
What will happen to my thoughts if you do not call?
What will happen to my arms if we spend another year apart?
Will my knees lock together, and my hands break my fall?

What is going to happen when I leave?
Would you help me pack up my life?
Will you finally tell me that you’ll miss me?
Or would you be so happy I’m no longer in your sight?

What if I refuse to leave and I wait?
What is life without being around you?
What if you have officially shut the gate?
And fell in love with someone new?

Here are the words that are in an email.
Unfortunately, my love was not up to your scale.
Here are words I hope to tell you.
Lucky for you, my love does not have an expiration date.

Do I need to write? You would say no. I know I need to write. I need to write because I am in search for answers. Most of the time, my writing does not make sense. Well, my writing makes sense when I want it to. You would say my writing has never made sense. You’ve never read my work, but I know you would say my writing is a reflection of the sadness in my heart. Hopefully, now that I’m writing more, my insane ideas will brew up an even crazier idea. And then another crazy idea. A ripple effect of crazy.

What would you think of my new ideas? Would you think they were too crazy? Or, would you lie to me in order to make the next few hours go by smoothly? I hope one day you will validate my feelings and understand my sense of purpose rather than questioning if everything I do is justifiable. Not just in your eyes, but the eyes of your friends and family.

I don’t get answers from you. The questions I have are not complex, however, the questions require more than a yes or no response. I have known you for so long, that you should want to give me more than a yes or a no. But, who am I kidding? Presume a response from someone? How normal of me. Some would say I am just wasting my time waiting for an answer from you. The joke is on them though as I have time to waste. One would say I have plenty of time since I fill it up with writing stories about you.

Then again, I don’t know if I could handle your answers. I imagine I could unless you decide to go off script, then I wouldn’t know what to say. I am strong enough to write a response back, but saying something and writing something to you are very different. I don’t know if I could handle answering your questions in person.

I’m watching When Harry Met Sally, and I wonder, no, never mind. I laugh at the image of you doing anything remotely romantic for yourself. You were never into the cliches that I often fathom in my mind. Maybe that is just another one of my crazy ideas. Realizing you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, perhaps that someone is me, or maybe it’s not, and you not wanting to waste another second living your life without them. Them, again, possibly being me. Possibly not.

I have so many questions for you. When the time is right, I hope you will be able to answer them. Take your time to answer as many questions as you can. I have taken the time to get to know you and it is time I would never want back. In my opinion, it was time well spent. Other opinions, not so much. Once again, there is time but please, don’t take so much. You never gave off the impression of someone who is greedy. Think before you speak but don’t think for too long now.

Maybe my questions will cause you to question your own life. What is your purpose? Are you meant to stay where you are? Maybe that’s why you’re avoiding answering the questions entirely. Maybe you will read my stories and you fall in love and that makes you scared to be vulnerable again. Maybe you will read these stories and you will hate me because they are all about you and you always hated talking about yourself. Maybe, just maybe, my stories will make you quit the job you hate and start somewhere new. Somewhere far away and without telling me, you will look up at the sky and thank me for my insane ideas. Maybe my insane ideas could help you realize something new about yourself. Something that I always saw in you…

Hope.

I’m not sure I’m writing anymore. I thought I wrote for myself. How long can I hatch at an underlining, burning feeling? A situation I thought I could change. As of right now, that situation is going to stay the same. There is nothing I can do. I can’t control the outcome anymore, and I’m not sure if I want to. It breaks my heart to know that I can try to fix everything else around me, except for you.

I’m not sure who I’m writing for anymore. I used to write to and about you. But still, that was never enough. As of right now, I haven’t heard from you in years, let alone seen you. Well, I’ve heard from you but not like how it used to be. As the years go by, you seem more like a stranger than someone I texted until 2 am. Did I tell you I missed you? Well, I meant to say it again.

The person I write about in my stories no longer exists. The person I once wrote to does not live in the body I once saw years ago. Where is that person now? The version you remember me as no longer appears in front of you. If you were to see me, I wonder if you would be happy with what you saw. I wonder what the new version of you looks like. Did your hair get longer? Did you go grey? Did you try to grow out a beard? Do you still wear those hideous brown flip flops? Throw those out as soon as possible.

Oh, how to stay the same after so much time as passed. What a shame. I never could ask you to stay the same but sometimes I wish I could go back years ago. What a tragedy one can do to themselves by staying the same. How painful it must be to see change as evil rather than as a blessing. I have certainly changed for the better. Have you?

I’m not sure if I can write anymore. What substance does my writing hold if it can not resonate with you? Or, the fact that you won’t ever see it? I know you won’t see my writing because you’re not looking for me as much as I’m looking for you. I guess that leaves me to write for the internet? Am I that shallow of a human? Useless words posted each week in a blog that seemingly connect with millions of people? I know better to do that, but what other choice do I have? How else will you be able to find me?

I’m not sure if I can write about you anymore. How cruel life can be. The one person I want around the most will not pick up their head to watch me grow. They do not want me sitting at their table let alone in the same coffee shop. What I would do to sit at that table with you? Anything.

How tragic it is to pay so much attention to someone who will never provide the same love back? Where does that love go? Where can my love flourish if it’s not for you? I guess it will have to go on the internet.