April 4, 2015

Alternately titled: journal of a girl who has yet to find her way

I don’t want to have already experienced
the last good day. 
I can feel the sadness seeping into these words
I’m scribbling on this page, so,
in the following pages
because I have nowhere to be but with you
we will sit down together
in some sunny spot
and I’ll tell you stories.

Sometimes happy,
sometimes blue,
and maybe some lies I wish that were true.
Like two strangers on a park bench,
we’ll have a little
one-sided conversation–
just like if you were actually here.

I love you, I think,
for many reasons
your honesty one,
maybe too honest,
and maybe I’m too unsure
about a lot right now 
if you’ll ever read this, for one,
and where I’m going from here.

I imagine my future
and I see a big, blank wall
too wide to see around
and through which no light escapes.
If our paths ever cross again
I’d like you to tell me how it all worked out
but I need you to tell “the me” here, now,
April 4, 2015,
because I don’t know how else to 
fast forward
to check.

But I know there are sad times ahead, my friend.
Maybe happy too.
And so I’ll tell stories.
But not about you.
Because I don’t know
what sun has risen to greet you today
and where, if anywhere, 
in this world you could be.
And I could hardly say a thing about myself
because I’m not sure where I am, either.

Let’s begin at the beginning:

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