8/5/17

How I Feel About You

You were the guy that was in the back of my mind, throughout some of the most significant moments in my life.  Now, sometimes she takes my place, and you don’t know her but you want to- you want to know the truth because he loves her, and he seems to know the truth but he doesn’t.  He has no clue what I went through because of the ignorance that circles some of his friends like a ring of smoke.  I dare to say that that ring of smoke circles him, but the truth is no one really knows because he keeps on living in the past.  He keeps on driving down streets like mine, in the middle of the night, when I lie awake in my bed listening to the smell of his exhaust leaving his bright red car, that is just like hers.  Her car’s taillights are smaller than his, and his makes me think that she has a dimmer perception about what is really going on.  But she gets her everything from Big Him and no one knows it except for me and others who fall for the unreliable, as I used to see them rolling out in front of the Stan’s Donuts on the MAGIC CORNER, and I used to be envious (not jealous) of how they were made for each other, but when I found out about you, again, this envy recoiled Because now I know that we could have something that is just as real, but more real than anyone has ever had, because it is real. 

When I saw you biking past me on the bike path earlier today, I was thinking of something, and it may have seemed like I was thinking of other people thinking of me.  That’s how I get, sometimes, but when I’m with you I look onto another plane, one that doesn’t belong to the elite, but that is able to contain people who are selfless and honestly want to love someone in their lives.  I saw a Sheltie this morning by the Starbucks.  I ordered a Frappuccino and sat in front of the window, waiting for the people that belong to him to drive by.  Before that’s how I got high, but now, it’s how I get real.   Before my high wasn’t a bad high, it was just something that no one would understand.  Sometimes I wonder if you would understand, but then I think you wouldn’t, but I know you have sex on the brain and this is what makes you seem real and sincere; to me.  I wonder what lies in the confines of your mind, what makes you, you, why you don’t tell the truth when I see your face and its expression.  Your hair is brown, and your chin, to me, is your trademark, along with the brown of your eyes that makes you seem beautiful.  But I can never be sure, because it seems like you are hiding something from me, and my friend who will remain anonymous thinks you should work on that, but I think it makes you seem mysterious, maybe even meek.  The kid that sat by me in Speech class in the high school that we both went to, in a Starbucks, semi-recently called you weak.  He said it to himself, and I initially thought he was talking about him but now I realize he was talking about you.  I think the type of weakness in a guy that pertains to you is nothing to be ashamed of.  It shows that you have a soul.

The second after a guy like you passes me, I start to think about you and become self-conscious, and then almost simultaneously I realize, most of the time, that it was just a guy that looked like you, that reminded me of you.  I saw one today on the bike path, before I saw the real you, after.  The guy that looked like you was wearing a hat.  When I saw the real you I knew that the first guy wasn’t you, and I was confused.  But then when I got back to my apartment there was something in the back of my mind that felt ok, in a way that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

When I saw you in high school at the retreat standing by my sleeping bag, across the room, you were with a friend of yours.  I was among people I didn’t know that well.  When you were in the room, you didn’t talk to me, but you saw me, and I wish I could go back and see the look in your eyes and know if you were weak, like the way you are now (What I mean by weak is that you fall for a certain type of girl easily).  I think this is how you used to be, but there is something in my mind that is obstructing this, so I don’t know if you are how you used to be.  I wish I could go back and see how you used to be, eighteen years ago, when we were sophomores together.  But now, most of all, I want to know you, and not just so that I can figure out how I used to be.