A Different Crop

I used to miss you so bad. I used to think back over hot summer days, and the freezing winter ones, spend lying on the grass, gazing into the blue, blue sky. I used to miss the way you laughed, and especially your gorgeous smile. I used to miss our conversations, the way we seemed to be able to talk about anything with honesty. I used to miss not having you around.

But then I grew up. High school days are but a distant memory now, those people ghosts, shadows which sometimes flit across the expanse of memory, and then melt again into the greyness of distance - Time's signature for forgotten souls. I knew you would become one of them. You said otherwise, but I knew. It's because I know me, and I used to know you. We weren't the type to cultivate something when it grew out of reach. And we have grown in different directions now, have we not? Still, I feel that I could bend in the breeze and touch you, bringing you back into the life from which you have not completely disappeared, but I'm not sure I want to. We were what we were, but I don't miss you anymore.

Both Here and There, but mostly There

Well, excuse me, I'm sorry, but did you know that you haunt my dreams? It's not very polite of you, you know, strolling through my mind every night, as though it were within your rights to invade my most private moments. It's unfair to me that I should wake up each day, the late morning light blocked out by my thick curtains, and wish in the artificial darkness that I was waking up next to you.

Your face chases my thoughts throughout the day, flitting in and out of sight, frustrating me that I cannot reach out and touch you; you're so far away, but with me always. You have a beauty in you which makes me want to be better, to strive for something, to make you proud; but you'd never know, looking at me, how impassioned you've made me. It's a gift of yours. I wonder if it's only particular to me - somehow, I doubt it.

Just so you know, you're welcome in my head, you're allowed to walk through my dreams; I'd rather have you that way than not at all. My head may be lost in the clouds, but feet are firmly planted on the ground.

The Ignited Soul

You don't think I can do it, but I know better. I know what drives me, and I know that determination writhes within me, pushing at my chest and threatening to break through and take me over. But I hold it back; there is a difference between determined and reckless. But you'll see, one day I shall prove you wrong. I'll make you doubt yourself from that moment forth.

Misery

Will someone please tell me, when does the misery end?

Promises Made To Be Kept

I wish it to be true. Every day another opportunity passes and though I wish it wasn't so, those times are gone. I look back over them and wonder, and I hope. I know I pretend that I'm not interested, but I confess it's because I don't know which words to say, which emotions to show. I need to try to balance between coming off as freindly, and overly friendly; I'm not sure how, so I come across as aloof. I'm sorry. I want it to be different.

Seeing you is a combination of a sunny day, and have a cloud which rains only on me. I love your smile, but I hate that I can't compliment it. I love the way you stare, but can't meet your gaze. I love the way you play with your hair, but hate that I can't reach out and grab your hand to keep you from fidgeting. I love your fidgeting, but I'd love your hand in mine more.

Somehow I lost my heart to you without you even having to say a word to me. That's not fair, you know? But I suppose, as the saying goes "all's fair in love and war." Not that this is love. Not yet. I don't know if I could love you without knowing you a little more, but it's damn strong at the moment, whatever this is.

All I want to know is if there is something for you too in those glimpses you get of me, walking past one another in and out of the room, passing each other in hallways and tunnels, each of us heading in our own direction. I want to know if there's anything there when I catch your eye for the briefest fraction of a second. Was there anything there when we talked a little? Do you find the conversations you overhear of mine entertaining? Could I have wooed you without having to speak directly to you?

If we're being honest, I feel that I am out of your class. Beside you I feel too rough, unrefined, dorky, too much like an immature child. I wonder if any of that appeals to you. My sense of humour can be crass sometimes, but if can make you laugh, I'll be happy for all eternity. As long as I'm not just 'that idiot' to you.

I wonder what you think of me, every time I stand beside you in the elevator (how is it we always end up in the same one?). Do you even think of me? Did your soft spoken well wishes apply to me also?

Perhaps I'll be lucky next time. Perhaps we'll say something to one another. Perhaps I'll know for sure. I can hope until then can I not? This is one of those times I wish I was braver. Or more poetic; somehow I believe you appreciate poetics, ever since you made that comment about reading in bookstores. I wish I could know; I want to shower you with romance. It may surprise you, but I have a romantic soul, above all else. I just haven't had a chance to share it with anyone yet, so no one really knows. I want to share it with you. I think you'd appreciate it more than most other people I've met in my life.

I promise I'll embarrass you with all the silly things I'll do, which you'll forgive me for because they're also romantic. I promise I'd sing you love songs on the spur of the moment, whether we're walking down the street, sitting in a cafe, or riding in the elevators where we seem to meet so much. I promise to take you on dates to fancy restaurants (on weekdays because you work weekends), but also on dates to parks, where we could climb the trees and recline in the branches, talking till the sun sets behind the horizon. I promise I'd visit you at work, and distract you from all the guys who are trying to hit on you from across the bar. I promise I'd hug you whenever I saw you, and keep you close. I promise I'd kiss you, even if we got stares. I promise I'd spontaneously grab your hand and drag you out on a date. I promise I'd find that spot you loved to be kissed, and proceed to kiss it at every given opportunity. I promise I'd read to you, poetry, novels, histories, scientific journals, if you so wished, anything to keep you happy. I promise I'd try to cook for you, but be warned I'm not the world's best chef. And I promise I'd make you my priority over everything else.

Those are promises made to be kept. I don't know whether you'll take me up on the offer. Just so you know, if you don't, someone else will. Eventually. I may have to wait years, but someone will. But right now, I wish it was you who'd take me up on them. I wish there was something behind those quick glances, every now and then.

A Familar Face

 

Unexpected faces in familiar places - do you remember me? Half smile among the stacks - an acknowledgment, or some private joke within your mind? You may change the colour of your hair, but that won't make me mistake you for someone else. I know that smile, I know those eyes, the same now as they were then. I hope you do well, whether that half smile was for me or not. The past is the past and we were never going to be anything other than passersby in one another's lives, even if we have a whole city and still manage to find one another.

The Set Heart

Don't you worry about me too much; one day you won't see me again. I'll be off, somewhere else, living the life I've always wanted. I'll be embraced by tall buildings, enveloped by thriving life, participating in the rush and filling my heart with content. I may be alone, but alone is what I want; cutting ties is the only way for me to get there, I hope you understand. Even if you don't, I'm still going.

I didn't always want to go there, be another ant in the anthole of a concrete city, but it's grown on me. I've romanticised it for sure, but the fact that reality is going to be harsher than I dreamed is not a deterrent, quite the contrary, in fact. No matter the struggle, the city lights will always be there to guide the way. The longing for the place has settled in my heart, hooking itself into my ventricles and letting the pumping muscle grow over it, so much so, that it is now as much a part of me as my blood, as the cells which create me. It's not leaving easily; the only way to satisfy this longing is to give in to it.

I ask only one thing of you, despite not having any right to ask anything at all and that is, don't follow me. I don't want you there. That's why I'm leaving. You don't have to understand. Just don't follow.

Just a Dream

Well I'm allowed to dream aren't I? I'm allowed to hope, aren't I? I'm allowed to wish for something I know is never going to come true. It might break my heart to invest so much emotion in the impossible, and it might make me long for something I don't deserve, but I'll do it anyway. No one ever need know. There's a certain comfort in a dream, the way there's a certain comfort for you when you twirl your hair around your fingers and I catch you out of the corner of my eye and smile just a little bit, knowing you're just a dream. Wishing you could be more.

Ray of Sunshine

Things sometimes seem so broken, so lost; a repetitive cycle turning around and around and around without a break. Did you ever think that perhaps it was time for a ray of sunshine into this broken life? We aren't held here because of want, or need, but because you won't let us go. I want to be let go.

So I'm letting you go. Fly, I don't want to see you here again. I found something in me, a want, a longing which has been felt before, but directed in different areas; this time it's possible to fulfill the yearning, I just have to let you go. It's time you found your way to the door and left my life; you offered me a challenge, and I'm picking up the gauntlet.

Recurring Suspicions

You know, this isn't the first time such thoughts have spun through my head; they keep coming back, spinning around and around, like some dizzying merry-go-round. I escape them for a while, and I think "maybe this time it's for good," but they always return.

Rationality says "no, this can't be true, you're imagining things again," and maybe Rationality is right. But a sinister little voice cuts in and whispers vile contradictions in my ear. I almost side with that voice; it seems to have some evidence, even if it's tenuous. After all, I can't have imagined your eyes flickering over to me; surely I can't just be looking up every time you're looking over? And I'm sure you were staring and that's what caused me to look up from my book and catch you looking at me again. I'm not sure what those glances entail, but I would like to find out.

And how is it that we always end up sitting opposite each other? Coincidence? Because I can tell you now that I do not choose my seating position relative to yours. How about you? But perhaps that would explain why my eyes naturally seek you; you're always there. Also, I'm curious about you and your own glances in my direction.

I'm sure there's nothing to this. I'm sure it's mostly my imagination playing me and making links and filling the gaps in incorrectly. I'm sure I'm wrong. But. What if I'm right? What if all those looks and those tiny things from previous weeks actually mean something?

Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. People keep too much to themselves; I doubt this case would be an exception. Society isn't as openminded as it thinks it is, after all.

Wings Won't Stop Beating

All I want is to make you sorry. I want you to regret it, to regret this. I want to be everything you want to be, but more; better, more successful and everything unattainable by you. Revenge is such a strong motivation. Who knew?

One day I'll be sitting at the top of the mountain, seeing all the little people down below. I'll look down its steep sides, the ones I had to climb all on my own, and I'll flex my hands, so the scars upon them stretch and remind me that I am where I am because I put in the effort. I'll see you somewhere down the bottom, struggling, because really, you couldn't do it. We both knew you wouldn't be able to get out of your little security bubble; you were too afraid of getting hurt, of losing it all. Well here's the thing: you can't gain anything if you aren't prepared to risk everything. And when I'm at the top, and you're still scrambling down the bottom I'll yell down to you "these wings wouldn't stop working for anybody." You'll look up, and you'll hate me and I won't even mind, because I got there because you wanted to be there and because you broke me. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have bothered. I suppose I'll have to give you a thank you along the way, but don't expect me to throw you a line, not unless you're really sorry first.

So stay out of my way. You know I'm going to be better at it anyway.

Watching and Waiting

I follow the trail of your life with breathless expectancy. I watch and I wait, watch and wait, and hope for you, every time thinking "maybe this time," but nothing has happened yet. Your life still remains unresolved, you still hide behind your facade and none, save one, has seen the walls come down. I'm waiting for them all see your defenses fall. Not because I wish you the pain or the humiliation it might bring, but because I believe your happiness lies over that boundary between your facade and your true self. I hope that you realise that the only person who matters has already seen the true you, and they defend you and they want the best for you, but they can't do for you what you must do for yourself. And they can't wait forever either. You might want to think about that the next time you think you can't say what you long to say. And I'll sit there and watch and hope that this time, the words will flow and weave your story in the air so that everyone will know. Your fortress will fall, but you'll finally feel the sun.

Winter of Silence

If I lay out all the pictures of you and me, would I be able to see the gulfs between our souls? If I'd looked close enough, would I have seen the best of times flying by? We hardly explored every facet of our relationship, but I think I like it better this way; what we had was good enough. I always knew the energy would fizzle out into only the occasional bit of movement. Our laughter's gone into hibernation, and our conversation has retreated into the back of the deepest cave, waiting for this winter of silence to end. Sometimes there are signs of life, but they quickly realise that spring has not yet arrived, and so dejectedly put their heads back down and drift back into sleep. The odd thing is, I'm content to live in this sort of winter - a little lonely, but not altogether cold; the silence a recuperating one, rather than an imprisoning one. I guess it's true when they say "out of sight, out of mind" and while it's a little sad, I'm sure we'll find the time to let spring appear on our doorsteps once again.

But I just want you to know that I haven't forgotten, I just haven't had the time. Those photos still mean the world, laid out in an artistic fashion, and the memories still bring smiles. The time's not yet come for tears. I just needed a little time for me.

Lessons to be Learned

Why is it so hard for you to back off? Why is it so hard for you to see that you're not wanted around? Why do you insist on doing exactly what we don't want you to?

You think you're always right, but no, you're not. You state your opinion as fact, but here's a fact for you, it's not. You think you have the right to intimidate people, but you don't. You think that you have the right to get angry when someone tells you not to touch them, well guess fucking what, you don't have that right. Maybe, just maybe you should start learning to respect the world and the people in it, and then maybe, just maybe, something in your low, acrid, meaningless life will go right for you. You're poisonous, and that is all your own doing. Then you wonder why we can't stand you.

Seasons of Change

Sometimes something strange happens; there's an almost imperceptible shift in the air, in the organs inside you, in the blood cells in your veins - a miniscule change, like something snapping, or falling into place. It's normally nothing dramatic, just another moment in an ordinary day, which only when you look back reveals itself as extraordinary, a turning point in your life. Sometimes, you may not even remember what you were doing in that moment, but remember the feeling of it, the way that you looked up from what you were doing and suddenly felt a tiny bit different, as though something else was inhabiting your skin as well as yourself; or as though something left through it.

You can't tell straight away what it is that had changed, but you knew there was something not quite right. Or maybe, not quite wrong anymore. It's only when you look at certain places, or at certain objects, or hear certain people's names or smell certain scents, and nothing traumatic comes rushing back, no intense feelings, that you realise what it is. You realise that you're ok now, that you truly have moved on. You walk back through your memory and though there is a certain nostalgia, it's not painful, and you no longer fervently wish yourself back to happier days; you realise that these are happier days. You let the memories of recent times surface and you pinpoint that one moment where it all changed - the moment you truly began a new chapter in the book of your life. So with your new leaf turned over, you go forth. Things are never the same again, but thinking about it, you don't want them to be.

Thrill Seeker

Why do you entice me only to leave me so unsatisfied? You know it isn't fair. You don't answer the questions you promised to, you don't deliver the things you'd said, and still I follow because I want to know what happens next. You whet our appetite and leave us craving more, but it's time you started showing that our trust wasn't unfounded; if you give an entrée, you have to deliver a meal. And I know you tease because you know I'll follow; the road ahead is dark, but I know yours are the only lights, though false others will try to lead us astray like the fabled will o' the wisp. So although you'll pull me high only to drop me down, and make me feel safe, only to terrify me at the next turn, I'll follow and I'll watch, only because the thrill is so addictive.

The Music We Hear

You inspire me. I know it's not much, coming from me, someone who is no one, but I thought it imperative that I tell you anyway. So there you go; you inspire me. Thank you. Just keep what at what you're doing. It's making a difference in the world. Some people get annoyed, but don't let them get you down. You don't need to change the lives of the masses to prove that you're doing something worthwhile; you're changing the lives of individuals, and that is far more important. It may be in different ways, you might be helping them through different issues, but in the end, the fact remains that you, not anyone else, you, are helping them. You inspire people to have more confidence, to see that who they are is ok, whether they're outside the mainstream or not. You're teaching us all to come to terms with being ourselves and to love ourselves. Seeing you resolve issues is helping us resolve ours too. So thank you, really, thank you. I mean it from the depths of my heart. You mean something in the world.

At the Crossroads

I think I've been trying to go in the wrong direction. What I'm doing now should be a hobby, not a career. It doesn't make me as happy as other things, I should follow those things which make me happy, which give me confidence. Isn't that right? I wasn't born to slave away over things which bring me no pleasure. I was created for something different. I realise that now. I may not have all the skills for the right path, but skills can be learned. It's the euphoria you have to follow, no matter the cost. I can see myself there, years from now, still loving it, but not here where I am. The music seems to be my calling. But how do I respond? We're at the crossroads now. I can't make a decision which is going to haunt me for the rest of my life. No regret, that's the aim. I fear failure, but that shouldn't stop me, not this time. Life begins at the end of your comfort zone after all.

Mess

Can I remind you of something? The world's a messy place. It drips with poison, it crawls with bacteria, it overflows with grim and dirt, but that's what makes it so amazing. The best experiences aren't to be found in the refined places, with people pristinely dressed, they're found out there, beyond the door, beyond your comfort zone, beyond the city limits. Go out there and find those places. Explore different places, explore different people. And always remember what you learnt and what you saw. The world's a messy place, so go be messy with it.

The Stars Beneath The Sky

We fell out of the sky. Can't you feel it? We did, I swear it. And all the things we build, all the towers of metal and glass which try to touch the sky, they're just our way of trying to get back home. And we stole our voices from the angels, that's why we never hear from them, and why we raise our voice in song; we hope that someone will hear and that we'll be taken back into the home we left behind. And when we die, we try to return to that place; that's why we scatter our ashes to the wind. We try to make sense of the chaos, so everything's orderly, but if you look close enough, from the sky, the lights on the ground look like the stars.

Heaven and Beyond

Creeping, slowly, crawling up your back, the shiver you can't suppress. Sudden, tight clenching of all your body's muscles. You stiffen, not knowing what should come next. You know where you want to go, you know what you want to do, but you don't know how to get there, don't even know who to ask. You have to keep your voice from rising into a shout, though it claws its way up your throat and your tongue works to have it out. You want them to know your passion, you want them to know you're more than some automaton. You need to have it out; it's like breathing to you - go for too long without that expression and you die. Your emotions run off without you and you're left an empty corpse, listless and overlooked. So we can't let that happen. We have to get you a stage. We have to let you soar the way the cathedral's spire soar - to heaven.

Epiphanous

You know what? I've learnt what it's all about. This feeling which settles on me, this yearning for something else, for someone, it's not about one someone. It's about finding a group. It's about finding acceptance for who I am and being loved for it. It's about being a part of something bigger. We've all got something to die for, but how about something to live for? That's what it is - it's about finding something to live for, something to fight for. It's about a common thread which binds you to others, tied so tightly that absolutely nothing can break it; not force, not grief, not the worst of humanity. And you know why? It's because it will bring out the best of humanity in you. It will make you a better person. That's what this is all about. For so long I thought that empty space was meant to be filled with someone, that one person who was going to come along and make it all better. But that's wrong. There is no one person; collapsing into someone's arms is not going to make all the problems go away, it's probably just going to create new ones. The truth is, that empty space can only be filled by myself, but only when I've found the happiness through belonging to a group who are just like me; or not like me, but people that I'm inexplicably bound to, no matter what. I have to bring that happiness upon myself, but that's only going to happen when I can find myself, that true self of mine who will allow me to fill myself with that happiness. And it's out there, I can feel it, like I could stumble upon it around the next corner. I just have to be brave enough to take up the challenge, to step outside my bounds and really let myself grow into that happiness. Maybe it sounds stupid. Maybe I'm wrong. But I doubt it; some things you just know. I know that there is something I'm passionate about, and I know that somewhere there are people passionate about the same thing, and that we'll somehow be mystically drawn to one another, and we'll bond, and we'll create a force to be reckoned with. We'll probably be both fragile and invulnerable all at the same time, but we'll get through anything that life has to throw at us because we'll always have each other. I know it's not going to happen while I just sit around and wish -  I'm going to need to take action. But it's close now, I can feel it. There's finally a sense of optimism in the air.

Lost and Found

Maybe we think we know where we're going, but we don't. Maybe it's all just an illusion. Maybe we think we're crossing seas when really we're crossing deserts. I don't really know. What do you think? What if all you think you knew was wrong? What if it was a lie? What if it was just a fantasy? Where does that leave us?

Maybe the problem is that we aren't lost enough. After all, you have to be lost to be found.

Polar Opposites

The calm of the sea, the fury of a storm, the tremor of a leaf, the warmth of sunlight. So many opposite things intertwining, though they do not occur simultaneously. They are opposing forces, they tug at one another, they push at one another, they fight, they grate, they bleed, they scar, they weep, and yet, they coexist within the one form. How could something or someone be pulled in two polar directions at the same time? How do they survive it?

I don't know if I can tell you, but I can tell you that I live with that everyday. One force bursts out, taking over, then looping back in on itself, and then either explodes again, or implodes so that another force may take its place. It's almost bipolar, and once people see another side of you they've not seen before, they wonder if you're ok or whether something's wrong. But the truth is, you're just being you, the way you always have, and this is just another one of those facets of your personality, another force which rings through your body.

A Sinking Ship

Things never quite turn out the way you think they will.