If you don’t want to be my friend, you can just tell me.

I hate feeling ignored, and unimportant. I know I’m no one special, but I think there is something that I deserve, and that is just acknowledgement in the least. I get this body language from you, you don’t want to be around me. I hate not knowing what I did to deserve being ignored. So tell me,

what did I do?

I don’t like walking by myself. I hate seeing you speed walk past me as if you have some other purpose that does not include me. I am not included in your life, that’s your decision, but just tell me. Tell me what hurts you so much that you avoid my eyes. tell me.

Always,

me.

 It was the way I opened my eyes to blink my eyelashes against his cheek and just stay there, feeling the moment with every bit of warmth I could pull out of my beating heart. I can’t say I remember more than never wanting to let go, both his hands covered my one. I can only remember feeling the moment repeat the second I caught his gaze of lightest brown.

And there I was, sitting in a moment people could walk by and not understand what it meant, I remember thinking, why?

Why do you like me? My voice was small, but he understood. A lot of reasons. You are funny and smart and I love talking to you, and you are ridiculously pretty.

no.

yes.

I think I remember thanking him, telling him that he was sweet, that I had never before felt so perfectly in the right place. I remember telling him I trusted him, I remember him telling me the same thing.

I’ve been thinking about that moment for a long time, he told me.

Then, everything was different and the same all in one. There we walked around the same colorless circle, placing colors in the world we imagined. We laughed, and I called him the same meaningless names, and then we said goodnight, something I had been longing to say for a long time.

Goodnight means this is the beginning.

There were no words. There didn’t need to be.

The air sat around us, cold. My warmth was his, his was mine. There was no purpose, only small words floating there sometimes. I look up at the sky, there are answers there.

“I see one star.”

“I see a moon.”

-smiles-

My hand lay in his; his actions more reassuring than the faith I had. No words, silence, thoughts consuming me.

Words were on the tip of my tongue, wanting to tell him what this meant to me. I was hesitant, but because I thought this moment had already said exactly that.

I turned to face him, and he was already looking at me. Slanted eyes, more real than I had ever thought possible.

This is the part where you kiss me.

It didn’t matter, that we both turned back to stare at the sky. It didn’t matter because it was almost as if this moment had been taken out of the pages of a fairtytale. I didn’t need anything more that that.

It’s almost like nothing.

Almost everything. Everything coming together, making magic. I feel it, if only even a little bit.

Feeling safe. Free, alive.

Finally alive.

I will never be able to admit the hardest part of my downfall of anyone. The part that made me utterly and completely afraid, the part that made the obstacle higher than what I could jump. I told everyone to see the light, I told everyone that there was hope, always. I saw it first, and then I began reading a sort of script, repeating the same words I couldn’t even bring myself to believe anymore. I was not living, I was dying. The days passed and they passed in silence. I wore a smile, and my old faded jeans. My feet carried my slugish body to the rest of life. I did not want to go where no one wanted me.

And somehow, I carried myself out of the darkness. I put on a happy face, put on a face of pride. I told myself I was stronger, I told myself a lot of things.

So the days passed, and life was normal, but not really. Someone told me to move on. To forget. I couldn’t understand it. Forgetting was not something I was used to.

I didn’t forget. I forgave. Something maybe I had needed to do. I forgave, and moved on from a life that was killing me inside. I opened my tearstruck eyes, and saw the boy that had been there all along. My heart began to feel again.

And I’m alive.

There is nothing better than being alive.

 I am human, but I walk and I talk, and I say and I think, and I sing and I listen. My mind and my heart are selective. My hands create beautiful things, but the part that is beautiful about them doesn’t come from my hands. My soul pours out in streams of something I don’t know, making the technical more than just technical. I write with pens of purple ink, scribbling words that mean nothing, and then, placing meanings into them to pass the time. I see pictures in blank walls, I see something in nothing. I write stories and never write them down, creating elaborate characters with delicate hearts in the pages of my mind. I tear them apart when I tear myself apart.

I stare at things for a long time, hoping that looking at them longer might make someting different of them. I examine the colorful from every angle, seeing the beauty of reflections and shadow more and more every time. I plan out long speeches inside my head. I make of myself a dramatic actress, with a monologue deep in emotion and care. I sound out the syllables of words in the silence of my motionless tongue. I hold back once I’ve planned them out, learning that knowing what to say is easier than tugging a voice out of a bodyt that does not wish to speak.

My heart flutters and falls below its own stability, to say that something matters more than I’ve ever let it.

It was so perfect. I won’t ever let go of those feeling.

How he held my hand and didn’t let go, how a brush of fingers turned into intertwined hands in a heartbeat. How I felt safe and beautiful and better than I had ever felt in my life.

I loved the way I leaned on him, and no one wondered why. I loved my friends, how they made it happen, and how thankful I am for what they did is something I probably will always keep inside me. I loved how they made me smile, how they supported it for every second, if only she was there to see it too.

I can only wish that she doesn’t hate me for it. I hate that I felt horrible about it when I told her, even though I know I shouldn’t have been. I just wanted her to bounce off of my excitement, maybe forget for just a minute of the problems, because I just needed her to be best friend, even if only for that minute, if she doesn’t want to be forever.

And maybe that’s the only thing I need for this to be absolutely perfect.