You were not the first.
It is safe to say you will not be the last.
Neither can I give you any guarantee that you will be the deepest, widest or the most beautiful or painful.
But until the next one comes you are the best one.
Now that sounds cheap of me. Even undedicated, totally not serious, here just for the kicks. Maybe it’s all because of your deep voice and crying-self depreciating comments. Maybe it’s all about the hair and the lack of it when you cut it. Maybe its about the things you make, or the procrastination that ultimately leads to the things you made not being posted on time. Maybe its your bad boy behavior, all the ‘don’t get too close’ and ignoring. And sometimes maybe its the things that you don’t notice that you do, that I can remember on the tip of my tongue and in the blankness of my mind.
One day these things will stop mattering to me. I will think less and lesser about you and the way you smirk in your photos. When I see another’s arms around your neck it will not burn the little dignity I will have. And writing words about you, for you will be just another myth.
Because you are like one of them.
A remnant of the past. A colorful chalk of imagination that I could use for any sort of make believe.
You are two people in one who opens up at different times and sometimes kills me with your rudeness. I want to be there for one person who welcomes me, but the other part of you shuts me and kicks me out, trashing the little that I have in my mind. There are so many things I want to say up front and clear to your face and so many things I want to ask. And I lose my voice every time I can because what we’re in front of each other are just masks of people we want to be. I never see the person I see in your words. So tell me, which one is real. And tell me, if this is hopeless, why am I still here. Why are you still in the corner of my head, dragging, clawing, biting my brain to remember you every new place I see or every funny joke I hear, that I can’t share with you because that would be creepily over-friendly of me. Why do I exhibit this one-sided relationship where if I ask you for a movie you already have an advance scheduling of a million days and my friends say ‘I told you so.’
If one year from now I still feel this horrible feeling, this feeling when you think you’re in love but you’re unrealistically in awesome with someone. Then I will tell you, I’ve had it. I’m in lo- –
-and then I will choke.