you, the sun and other flowery metaphors I’ve grown to understand [3/?]

I saw you the other day after a really long exhausting week. 

I felt exactly how I thought I would. Excited. Ecstatic. Happy. 

You just make me really happy. You don’t even need to do anything but exist and be within my sight for a least a split second. Its so ridiculous I kinda hate myself about it. 

But there are only so many things thats making me really happy and I really don’t want to lose it. 

Just ride the feeling right? 

Impulse and selfishness. Things I feel like I’m already doing yet not

I talked to someone recently about you. Well, it was mostly about me but it was also about you.

It was helpful

Got some shit out and heard few things I needed to hear from someone else

Like being myself and boys “down-dating”

Obviously, the latter wasn’t the best thing to hear

Especially since it made me really realize that I hate it. I’d rather have this. This nothingness than you settling or pitying me. Not just you. Anyone. I don’t want to be with someone who acknowledges they can do better than me even though they are

Because look at me

Anyone with me would be down-dating right? 

So yeah. I’m going to be alone forever

But I also want to hold your hand. And maybe wrap my arms around you. And all those cheesy shit people tend to want

But its okay

Because just seeing you is enough

So thank you

Thank you 

Thank you

thank you.

you, the sun and other flowery metaphors I’ve grown to understand [2/?]

I’ve made a playlist for you. 

How juvenile is that? A playlist. Sometime I used to do when I was in high school. Its not that surprising though, my feelings for you are very juvenile. 

I don’t know, I assume its because I haven’t really explored these feeling enough that I don’t know how to feel as an adult. Or maybe I just haven’t met anyone whom I can love in a way that doesn’t seem to immature. 

But right now, that’s where I’m at. Making playlists, stealing glances and hating myself for being able to imagine impossible scenarios.




you, the sun and other flowery metaphors I’ve grown to understand [1/?]

Meeting you made me understand why people adore the sun. 

I met you on a not-so-regular Spring day. It was my first day on the first job I’ve ever gotten by myself. It was a big deal. I was terrified and awkward. I sat at that lobby completely engrossed in my own self-consciousness. 

And then you walked in.

You came in after someone else and I thought you looked kinda dorky.

You wore bright blue jacket and carried a plastic bag. Your hair was nothing special, which matched the rest of the outfit. You looked remarkably plain. But you had my attention. 

It was stupid. So I shoved it away and went back to wallow in anxiety. 

Then you had a conversation. And the other person asked me a question in relation to your conversation and we made eye contact. It was quick. And it was done. You continued to talk and I returned to my thoughts. Except now I’ve clearly seen your face. It was nice. I wanted to look at it more. I tried not to. 

The rest of the day was dry. 

It was orientation and majority of the day was spent listening various people talk about various company things. It was tedious and the other boy was not my cup of tea. 

He kept talking to the others and you, and I wanted nothing else but to shut him up. I wanted the day to finish. And I wanted to not want to look at you. 

Then the conversation became about girls. I was alone and quiet and upset. He clearly didn’t care about the possibility that people didn’t want to hear about his lust for hot girls. But everyone else seemed unaffected or engaged. It was aggravating. I didn’t want to hear boys lust over attractive women. It made me feel irrelevant. It made me feel stupid for feeling irrelevant. 

Then the conversation came to you. And I expected you to say something as equally aggravating.  I mean, you were asked to agree that Europe had an abundance of hot girls. Anyone else would have simply confirmed. Given a smirk, an enthusiastic yes, a high five, something equally as disgusting and juvenile.

But you didn’t. You replied by saying pretty girls are everywhere and manoeuvred the conversation away to feeling fashionably inadequate. It was nice. It was subtle. It was casual. Most likely just a natural and unconscious response in your part. 

But it was amazing. You were amazing. I felt acknowledged, even though I had nothing to do with it. I wanted to thank you. I wanted to know you. I knew there was no turning back. 

Words. And lack thereof

I’ve never been too good with words.

On a regular basis, I talk to, maybe two people, and a dog. One of the two people will be through texts and the other is my father, who I live with and always attempts to strike up a conversation. On better days, I’ll talk to maybe 2-3 people through text, and about 2-3 people in person. The additional people are from work or a public servant, so thats necessity. 

So words aren’t my thing.

I’ve never been eloquent. 

Never been deep.

On good days I manage to ramble

On good days, I manage to string enough words together that another person actually gets something from me beyond a seemingly half-ass acknowledgement that I’m paying attention to them

And sometimes, I don’t mind having no words

I prefer listening anyways

But then there are times when words are essential and I have none

Maybe I really just have nothing to say

But then why do I feel like I do?