I am the ghost. That passes through you. That sits and watches you.
Even when you are not there, you are right beside me in my head.
I wonder about you.
Where are you?
What are you doing?
Who are you with?
What is it like to be on this earth and only 21 years old.
When I leave you, I immediately begin to miss you. I watch you, checking your phone, for text messages, and I wonder about you, what it’s like to be 21 years old in a world that seems to be run by 21 year olds, in a clumsy dance between those who are being cast center stage in a screenplay they haven’t read, that’s been written by a wistful mid-thirty something or forty-something or fifty-something, or someone years older, who’s gaze is upwards and distant, pensive, far beyond the clouds.
What is it like to be you.
I feel so peaceful around you. Your intelligence wraps around me like a blanket. I want to sleep beside you. To hold your hand and lay on my back, you beside me, and look up at the ceiling of your room and my room and we’ll put those sticky stars there, that glow in the dark, and we’ll watch them. And listen to the sounds of each other’s breath, our chest rising and falling, the emotions, a cascade of possibilities.
Me, I’m the eternal optimist, always expecting the best and finding the diamonds scattered on the sidewalks, while you are the empiricist, seeing things for the way that they really are. You’re the thinker. I’m the dreamer. And that’s what I appreciate, as it fills in the deficit, paving over the potholes that interrupt the best of intentions.
Everything about her moves me in some way. watching her, I feel intoxicated, by her every gesture–the bend of the neck, the movement of her eyes, the sideways glance, her hands. The smile that comes up quickly, when her shyness is absent.
And that voice of hers. So soft. So peaceful. The way she chooses her words. “there is a moment”, she says. “Lets walk over there, in the shadows”, she says. “In this moment”, she says, as she begins her sentence. I walk beside her, hypnotized to the point where I am unable to keep direction. When I’m with her, I am lost but I feel like I am home. Thankfully, she’s good with directions and her iPad is useful, too.
Her breathing and the rise and fall of her chest.
In this moment
There is a moment
What does it mean
After coming home from hanging out with her, I have little interest in meeting other girls. I have such a caring and like and feelings for this girl, who’s just coming into adulthood and walking the precipice between being kind and open or closed and cautious. And what can I teach her?
It’s a beautiful mess, a beautiful girl like her being in my world. Even as a friend, I will love her.
She introduces me to such interesting places.
I’ve already shown her the best of me. if she doesn’t love me by now, she’s not likely to in the future.
She said she likes a guy that’s picky. She also likes a guy who other girls like. I’m not social enough to garner the attention of a slew of women. I can work a room if I want. It’s just that I’m usually in a hermit state, working on projects. once they’re done, I work the room in order to get the crew to make them happen.
With her, I’ve made her up in the parenthesis of my mind.
We collide like two supernovas and disappear into each other and become best friends and more. We sleep beside each other, holding hands. For adventure, and to gain perspective on the world, we visit abandoned buildings and rooftops.
Looking over the ledge, we watch the passersby, the lights from the cafes and stores, the view of Manhattan. We tell each other fantastical stories, and laugh at our fantastical endings.
We kiss. We lay down on our sleeping bags, watching the stories, looking into each other’s eyes. She nuzzles her head into the crook of my arm and closes her eyes, her soft breath escaping those lips while her chest rises and falls in wavelike motion.
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