Just What I Needed

 'lo you,

It sounds weird to say, but I knew you were coming. I felt it. I just knew you would be really good looking. I saw your name on the sheet and I wanted to believe I was right. That a name like that could only belong to someone just like you. Maybe unassuming was the word. I think sometimes the Universe likes to play games with my heart. To remind me of where I am. What I deserve. What I need to do to change. To keep me on my path. I didn't talk to you for months. I wanted to. I thought of reasons to, but they were never enough. I was too shy. I was a different person, then. It seems like years ago. When I first started I couldn't even talk to anyone without being red faced. But, I wanted to talk to you. I was awkward and never made an effort. Even when I had an excuse. One day I had it in me to talk to you. You were so quiet I think I asked you to repeat yourself several times. I think the first time you responded I was just looking at you. I wasn't really listening and I couldn't hear you. I take time to observe people. Some people are more interesting to observe than others and I just couldn't help but stare at you. You really are quite beautiful. I felt like your eyes contained innocence, naivety, and wisdom beyond my comprehension. I thought maybe I heard you wrong. When I recanted our short conversation, I realized I was wrong. I did hear you wrong. You were actually really polite and I just assumed because you were good looking and I liked you immediately, there must be something sinister lurking inside you. It's hard for me to trust people. The irony isn't lost on me that I trust the untrustworthy and that I am skeptical of the kind. It's like I wear a set of goggles and the calibration is off. Either way, I still continued to avoid you. For far longer than I intended. It became something I had to do at a certain point. I had realized I liked you and I couldn't do anything about it. It is better for me to just reject myself for you. For anyone, really. 

At some point, you had questions. I had courage. It wasn't for a long time later that I got used to your face. It's still funny that it took me a year to get used to your face. I see good looking people all the time. Usually men who look like you are jerks. Or gay. They know they are hot and they use it against people like me. If they don't find me attractive, they are jerks. Or, I’ve learned from the hottest lacrosse player in my graduating class, they find me hot, but hostile and unapproachable. I got used to hearing the word, "bitch," from guys that look like you. It's fine. I don't mind it. It's easier to face rejection when someone is mean. I can just chalk it up to their short comings, rather than my own.

I really enjoyed getting to know you. Talking about cars, of all things, is probably what made it possible to open up more to you. To realize that you are actually a genuinely nice person. And interesting, to boot. You really do deserve everything you want and I hope you get it. I enjoyed our conversations. Even if I was nervous to just talk to someone for that long. Something I don't normally do unless I've had a few drinks or I have known them for years. Rarely, like in this case, I just felt something when I looked into your eyes. Beyond attraction- it's a strange phenomenon. Chemistry or some sort of other out of this plane of comprehension. Something old and familiar. The depth and understanding. The thing that I had thought maybe I made up entirely every time I think back on it. Then I see you round a corner and if our eyes meet, its still there. You say nothing. I say nothing. It's not unfriendly. It's not anything I can grasp other than... something else. It's just something else. Maybe in a past life we shared a trauma. Maybe I waited for you while you went off to war and you fought for your friends, your family, for me, maybe you never came home. I waited for years, or some part of me did, and somehow, you came around again. That part of you. The part that I see when I look into your eyes. A bit of soul that sits lonely and dormant. A fire that ignites when I look into the eyes of people like you. Somewhere, it's there. That feeling. Its not just you. *sigh* This isn't some love letter. This is just a familiarity letter. I saw the inner you. The real you. The one that you don't let people see. The one you didn't tell me about. I just... saw it. I saw you. It can mean something wonderful most of the time. At the very least, and in this case, it just means, you will find what you are looking for, dear. I know it. I see it in the gold of your eyes. Raise your eyebrow at me and make me smirk and even if you would never say it's because you like me- I know you feel it, too. That there's something more than what can be said. Something more than will be acted on. There is a familiarity in the strangeness of the inexplicable. The spiritual part of me that I don't often share with anyone. Because it makes me sound like a lunatic. And it's all made up nonsense. Its just a feeling. A feeling I can only hope you can fathom. Because, it's brilliant. 

I don't know if you meant to pull words from my head, but you have. I think you are like blue. Calm like water, ferocious as a storm. Maybe that's what I feel. You see the hot heat inside me, the fire I keep flickering on like a candle. You soothe me just by being near. I feel it around some people. I feel the sadness. The kindness. The cool. I'm not so immature enough anymore to try to take it. To think it belongs to me. To think that I'll see you again. It's just... a feeling. It was just nice to meet you. To get to know you. To find out more than what I saw. That you can be so careful, calm, quiet, kind... And simultaneously I see you starting a riot that would damage a lot of patriarchy. I like that you are the anarchy and the order. That you can balance both in a way that makes you charismatic. It's an effortlessness that I would only dream I could get away with. I see it. I think I saw it before you showed me. Although, thoughts and words are always a soup until I sort them out. 

I wanted to ask how you get the marks. Do you chew at yourself? The marks seem like a nervous twitch you have. They are small holes, and that's what makes me wonder. Like you continuously poke yourself. We all do strange things to remind ourselves we are alive. I was curious about yours. I suppose I may never know. I only just think of it, now and then. Maybe I'm just too observant. It's like you have a kitten attacking you. I bet that's exactly what it is... figuratively and literally. A kitten.

I wanted to talk to you sooner than I did, I thought about different reasons how I would be able to strike up conversations. I was in the mood to draw and I kept drawing people I knew. I drew my one friend like a goldfish. I just felt like it suited him. Even though he was quite amazing. I miss him, too. But, I had a period of time where I was obsessed with drawing doodles on the edge of my paper. Mostly your hair. Because I couldn't look at your face long enough to constitute it as not creepy. Even writing this, I realize how creepy it really is, however, I just really wanted to draw you. You have an interesting face. Yes, very handsome, but, interesting. Some people just have something. My friend told me I should just be a creep and ask you if I could draw you. I never did. Because then I would feel like you'd want to see it and then I would feel a judgment that was entirely my own, and not yours, that put myself in the corner and I didn't draw again for months instead. This is not a love letter, but entirely a letter to remind myself of my own capabilities. Of my strengths. Of my shortcomings. The things that you have reminded me, that you were in my life for a short period of time in a sterile place and how it didn't stop me from growing a few leaves. That it didn't stop me from growing a bud, opening up, and letting all the petals drop one by one, and now I lay dormant. Reflecting on all the ways that I was reminded. That I've been alive. No, you didn't cause these things to happen. You are just one of the reasons. One of the reminders. One of the pieces of the puzzle that I put together to ease my mind and build up strength. One of the puzzles that creates new chapters in my life. One of the fragments of gold that I was able to see sometimes. 

I realized that I'm not done having a crush on you. I realized when you sought me out a handful of times for sort of weird reasons. Or just... I dunno. Maybe we are just a small sliver of friend, just enough that seeking me out to say hi feels good enough to do it again a few times in a day. I see you, I don't presume to know what you think or feel. Just what I observe. But, I do still like you and that sucks for a number of reasons. I can't like you, because it's wasted on you. To be perfectly honest, it's wasted on you. It will never mean more than what it is now. Just thought soup for this stream of word vomit. Not because I don't want it to mean more or be more, but because it just... isn't. 

So thank you. It's been really nice getting to know you. Thank you for introducing me to part of your world. To some of the parts of you that you may or may not tell other people. To the parts of you that people find, even if they don't try. Even if you don't want them to know. I'm glad I know them. I'm glad to know you. I want you to find your passion. I want you to be happy. To live a full life. Even if that life is met early because you decided to hunt a great white shark on a whim and it ate you entirely before you gutted it and laughed until you bled out using it's faded carcass as a float until you were gone, smiling, burnt, parched, and staring into the sky, never hoping for rescue. Because, if you hoped for it, it would come. Even if you are meant to die old and with people you love. But, the shark option is the way to go, it is the one I'm sure you would want the Universe to write for you. If you survived then you would have to find yourself on an island and start convincing the natives to allow you to join their tribe and you would start a family and then wander off like Papillion leaving it all behind for the next fucking thing. Man, I really do have your mind pegged for something that only you may laugh about. It's like the hero syndrome that runs through your veins like the fire, reason, and order that runs in mine. The one that allows you to get away with most things. Your hypothetical tribe family probably wouldn't even be mad. Get a lower rent because you listen to an old lady. Or so you say. I bet you touched her soul, too. You really are kinder than you know. Or more attractive than you understand. Either way. It was really nice to know you. 

I'm sure I'll edit this out a lot, to something much simpler. Like, "here's looking at you, kid" and that'll be that. That'll be the main sentence to all this subplot. But... don't forget that you are meant for something more than you think. Something more than you imagine for yourself. It's hidden in the whims. I'm just glad I got enough courage to try to know you. More than just a few wisps of hair or an errand that I needed you to learn. You've helped me through a time when I wasn't sure my capabilities. That I wasn't sure that I could be more than what I was. I'm glad you were there and it was you that held my hand through it. Even if I never actually held your hand... I'm glad you were there. 

I feel like maybe there is more to be said, but it's me that has to go now. Either way.

Make your own plans.