"I asked you one day while I was lying in my bed,
hiding away from the world,
‘What are we?’
I wanted you to say all that I was dreaming we were—
or at the very least could very easily become.
But you said only,
‘I honestly have no idea’
and I don’t know how to feel about that.
It’s unfair to ask so much of you.
You’re older and you have so much more around you, I’m sure,
but I still can’t help the desire burning inside of me.
I desire you, if that wasn’t plain enough.
I don’t think I am—
plain enough, that is.
I think you don’t understand the aches and creaks I feel within my bones whenever I think of you,
and it makes me wonder if you could ever feel this strong about me.
What hurts the most is the vast and unforgiving ocean that separates us.
I want to make the planet’s plates shift so I can be closer to you.
It’s all so unfair, but I know what we are.
We are a tragic product of our current world,
a modern-day romance that is more heartbreaking than any tragedies from the past.
I know you better than most of the people around me,
but we haven’t even felt one another’s skin.
Sometimes I get scared that I’m building this up into something more than it is,
but then I think the distance would’ve crushed us, drowned us, if that were the case.
I want to be your everything,
even if that is insane.
But I have gone a little insane since you first messaged me.
You ripped out chunks of me that I don’t think I can ever get back.
I’ve been bleeding since the 26th and nothing I do can stop it —
there’s no pressure great enough to hold the flood of all of my feelings.
So I write.
I write and I write and I write,
mostly words I could never even imagine letting you read.
I’d die of embarrassment and run like I always do if you saw those most delicate parts of myself.
I’m not ready for that, like I’ve told you so many times.
But I still can’t help myself from writing.
You’ve evoked something within me, distance or no distance, that I can’t quite find the correct name for.
That is terrifying.
I won’t even consider it.
But slowly you are becoming too much for me.
My shoulders are weakening,
my heart is nearly destroyed,
but I still want you.
Maybe that is what I wanted you to say to me that day."
I can’t picture anyone daydreaming about me. I can’t picture someone thinking about me when they’re laying in bed before they fall asleep. I can’t picture anyone telling their friends about me. I can’t picture anyone getting butterflies because I hugged them, or even just because I made eye contact with them. I can’t picture someone smiling because my name lit up their phone. I just can’t.
Do you ever feel like you just want to leave for a year and then come back to see how different everything is? To not keep in contact with anyone, and just leave without warning. To just live the way that you want for a whole year, and then to come back and see how everything has changed? That’s what I want right now, so badly.