stories to tell

 “I love you I love you I love you I love you” he wrote incessantly, hoping that one of those times what he felt would be out of him. Instead, each time he imagined a new way, a new place, a new reason to say it. He was lost. His heart and reason had divorced and left him in the streets to roam like a tumbleweed in the Italian desert.  She never knew. Nor did she care to know. Loveless, for years, but comfortable. She moved with direction and purpose, yet every so often she would question if there was a more optimized path. Sometimes the roots on this trail were too numerous to walk distracted as she liked to do. Her heart was led by reason and she was content.  “…I love you”.

How you smell. It’s a floral, yet refreshing and light smell. It lifts me up like a butterfly caught up in a tiny tornado. I love how my memories light up of the times we’ve been together. It’s as if someone turned on stage lights and shadows start playing on a stage. Your silhouette dances in my mind. So gracefully and yet with such abandon that I want to join even though I don’t like dancing.  You are beautiful. Even in ways that I can’t see; but that I can smell from a mile away. You are drop dead gorgeous. In way that I can’t see; but that I dream I could smell from an inch away. 

Your silhouette flies, soars, and the wind warms up around you. It’s a mere shadow of you, strutting and flexing your body upon Plato’s cave. As you move and dance a nearby flame flickers green with envy. You snap your fingers and suddenly out of shadow you appear. Fully in the colorful flesh. Your hair, brown and golden, rests at your shoulders ready to grow and in long curls entrap your prey. While your emerald green eyes flash around your cave shining bright upon your diamond goblet filled with orange wine. A small rabbit hops next to you with a tray of cookies, freshly baked by the smell of it, you kneel gently and take one. In a swift motion you twirl and get up. The wind from your black and orange vestments sends the rabbit flying. You make way to your seeing orb sensing something was awry. As you walk the ground sprouts little flowers. You hold your hand over your orb and see…a man, in a laboratory coat, pouring over a Petri dish with glowing little specks. “You fool” you whispe...

 in a darkened basement a simple plant; a pretty pretty leaf perched on a chair. sight unseen nor sounds heard yet i simply can't help but dream of your face beautiful and fair.

  I bought this card. Wrote a heartfelt apology. Then I didn’t deliver it. Not because I didn’t want to apologize anymore but because I believe I didn’t need to anymore. I think the awkwardness of the apology would be a worse offense to them than not apologizing. So I left it at that. Still, the card was pretty and I liked it so here it is.  I am definitely an overdramatic person. 

 She stood with her back to the ocean, her toes slowly sinking in the sand. Her sun dyed hair danced all around her, seemingly transitioning from wavy to curly. Sometimes little wisps would stick to her cheeks and she would remove them with care as she was already feeling the pain of a little sunburn. Her mind wandered to her youth, when she waited for her dad to pick her up from summer camp. The day had been hot, too hot. It was hard to distinguish between sweat and the salty ocean that lingered in her skin still. She knew the day was ending but felt comfortably paralyzed, in a place between the ocean and the earth. Embraced in a worldly blanket.  She smiled as the satisfaction of the lazy day rumbled through her body. Her mind was moving slowly and lazily. Her shoulders were relaxed and heavy, tanned and firm from all the early morning swims. Her hands soft from playing with the sand, making silly castles and moats. Her belly was patterned with tan lines from different swims...

 Why am I in love with you? Because you’re intelligent. You are smart and witty and in the chaos that I portray you seem to understand me. Reflecting on myself, I think I create that conversational chaos to keep people at a distance. A friendly way to keep to myself. But for those that easily see through my silliness (which to be honest is not that difficult), I end up admiring. The communication deepens and i feel at ease and relaxed and myself. I make friends this way.  But then I felt seen—deeper than I thought. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I wanted it to be true. Regardless, I fell in love. The more I got to know you, the more your intelligence shone. I fell deeply for your brain, for your words, for your thoughts.  I wish I could tell you this, but life is weird and messy and this kind of admiration is left for those consumption riddled 18th century writers. And I don’t want to be weird.

What would my younger self think of my life? I gaslit myself into thinking what I do is somehow a creative outlet. It’s not. I am just another cog in the dumb machine. And I think I’m too exhausted or boring to do anything that makes my life worth it to me. In my head my friendships keep slipping away. As time passes I keep alienating my relationships. Even those that I thought were the most important. From a community to loneliness. That could be the title of my autobiography.  I miss what potential I once had. I’m in my twilight having made nothing. The sands of time have no edge to erode away. Who would want to be around me? I am old and tired. Makes me boring. I need to find other old people. 

 I don’t know how to distinguish love. I am a failure of a human.