I fell horrible. I can’t.

I just can’t.

I have never felt this alone my entire life. Brittany told me last night that if I died no one would care because no one knows me. And I’m crying again. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough for this.

I can’t believe it.
Two days.

No more perfect irreplaceable bed.
No more beautiful mountains.
No more summertime goths.
No more.
No more.

But, I get to see you.
And talk.
And.
And.

Counting down the minutes until we’re together again.
My life is unreal.

Hahaha thanks? And probably not. I’m not the type to post my body online. While I see nothing wrong with anyone that is comfortable doing that, I am just not comfortable enough with myself to post things like that frequently.

But tart. Butt art. Pop tarts.

Thank you! That’s a nice thing to say.

No, he’s not. He is probably one of the best friends I’ve ever had. Not to mention he is literally the best man I’ve ever met in every way possible.

Because I’m young, I like to have fun, and it’s something I haven’t done … In a while. Moved, that is.

About every two or so years I enjoy packing my life up in luggage and dragging it around to wherever the wind blows.

Today it’s Chicago.

Tomorrow, who knows?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: do you know how many possibilities there are for being?

Chicago:
School
Work
Change
And making up for the past

Perfect life is perfect.

Future Faults

There are days that I think about what it would be like to sit in your apartment.

Stacks of newspapers and essays strewn across the floor. Rooms of books. I can smell the pages now.

I think about your deep set eyes tired and weary because of your scholarly nature. Your pupils pouring over hundreds of words. I watch you lean back in your worn leather pub chair. Pushing your hair out of your face. A dim light peeking over your shoulder and lightly hitting the pages which you spill yourself over nightly. I see the steam rising from your coffee mug. It’s hot like the fire rising from the wood in the fireplace. Your tie pulled away from your neck. Your shirt unbuttoned at the top. Your socks pushed down and saggy.

When I first saw you, your back was hunched over as you walked. Your feet pattering across the ground. Your long legs lingering over the air before your feet made contact with the ground. Your shiny belt buckle catching the light as you move. I can’t stop staring. I watch your hand gestures, you pacing across the floor, your eyebrows wrinkling together, and your curly hair bouncing with each move. Your big coat hanging over your body.

Your voice brought warmth to my bones. I had never felt that before. Your timbre resonates in my dreams.

It’s not normal to feel the way I feel.

I would kiss you on your head and tell you I was going to bed. I’d leave you there with your words and paper. I’d leave you there with your first love. You’d come to bed hours later. Exhausted and wanting rest. You’d get under the covers and push your body against mine.

When I heard you walking up behind me for the first time your footsteps sounded fast on the pavement. As if you were trying to catch up to me. You were speeding by and I tried to slow you down. I made small talk about the weather and the mountains. I joked about your goofy feet and your long stride. I told you that my legs were too small to try and keep you with you. You caught me as I slipped on the ice.

That moment everything felt right.

We felt right.

Feathered Foes

I’m positive that at this point I need sensitivity. Many times I feel as though I am a wilted flower with a broken stem.

How would you treat that object? Would you toss it around with blatant disregard? Or would you cradle it with the warmth of your soul?

My heart is so tired from all the tears that have fallen from it. My heart begs for the nights we would dance.

Imperfection is key in any relationship. There was a time where rolling around in the grass was the only decision we had to make. I remember days that began and ended with you. Those days are long gone.

I wanted to stay.

I couldn’t stay.

Crying in the rain doesn’t solve anything. I stood barefoot in a dress on the front lawn. My dog by my side. You driving away.

That was the last time I felt like I was myself. The complexities of a relationship are too difficult to describe in simple words. Moments evoke emotions we never thought we could feel. The yearning for knowledge of the future seems futile and irrelevant at this point.

In the back of your pick-up truck during the worst storm we had that summer I started to cry. You pulled over because of my fears.

“I was five then. Our car was smashed. I couldn’t walk. Both of my legs had been broken. I’d never felt more alone. I was only five.”

We stayed there until the rain subsided and I sat up. You said that I’d never looked so beautiful. Behind me there was a field of flowers. I put my boots on and ran for it. I rolled around in the smell for a while. Wet flowers against my skin.

This is my favorite memory of us together.

Can’t wait until next week. Three days off sounds like a miracle. I miss being younger already. Birthday blues always.

Cats Craddle

I hate coffee. I am weird and unusual and strange. And I hate coffee. But, I’ll go out with you to get coffee.

That’s exactly what I intend to do. Sip my non-coffee next to you sipping your coffee while we explore the possibilities. Possibilities of what? Of whatever.

I keep playing scenes in my mind. I see exactly what I want to happen. I see what will probably happen. We’ll laugh and converse. You’ll look in my eyes and tell me some of the most poignant things I’ve ever heard. And then you’ll be gone. We’ll say goodbye to one another. I’ll be too afraid to look back. And for the next few weeks I’ll wait to hear something from you. You won’t email, call, or anything. I’ll live my life without any possibility of anything developing from our one long conversation some winter night in Alaska. That seems so useless. A pointless memory in the sea of my mind.

So what do I do? How can I change the future? What can I say to change your mind before it has ever been made? If I do this - if I go to meet you for some coffee… Will I be any different? Will that moment be of such importance ten years from now.

Maybe I’m wrong about all of this. Maybe you’ve already made your decision. Maybe that’s why we have plans to go get coffee. Maybe you’re just being nice. Maybe it’s a stepping stone. Whatever it is I won’t live my life with regret. I refuse to wonder for the rest of my life. So, yes. I’ll have coffee with you. Coffee or non-coffee for two.

We can sit by the window and laugh at the snow. If you ask me to get coffee again I suppose I won’t be opposed.