nothing.

are you free 4th of july? it doesn't matter. i'll be going away for a while. i think, i will have changed when i come back. i think, you will have too. i feel we have changed already. i don't know if you need me, or if i need you, but it is true that we don't really exist together anymore. mom says i never listen to good advice and i probably don't. i told him, they say, don't assume. you know what they also say? be careful what you wish for. i wished for a boy, and not a man, and...this is the one wish that was handed to me. wasted wish? wasted days and nights and smiles and tears and memories and that night with the stupid game and controls and eggs and chocolate and finding that someone that everyone keeps looking for...who was he? did we find him? did i find you, or did you find me? the first, the only. a joke gone too far. why did i start, why did i want, why did i do what i hated being done to me, and why did you follow? why did i continue a mistake that could've stopped before i made a fool of myself and realized that quicksand doesn't sink me, that i sink myself and that you weren't really going to follow this time, and that you weren't really going to help, and that you were probably going to leave soon after i stepped in? this is the wrong time, i am not the one, and it doesn't matter to you. this is the wrong time, you are not the one, but i think i thought you were. i think daydreams are dangerous. too carefree like a child i frolicked, and i fell where the downy grass ended and the pavement began. dizzy, i felt, looking at the bleeding cut skin, a bit like choking and drowning and suffocating on a cloud that's about to vanish. you couldn't answer simple questions, and i knew then, and i knew before then, and i know now that delusions are joyrides i have to pay for later. i need a job. i need something to occupy my time. i need to get off the streets, stop chasing the pavements, because i keep taking the roads that might lead to the chance of seeing you across the line of cars and fumes and honks and people rushing rushing rushing. i miss you. i miss that night, when i could've been outside in the rain, crying a little like i almost always do, getting sick because the wind was a bit too cold, feeling sick because the people was too much too cold, wanting someone to come and walk out to where i stood in the grass and say a word or two and maybe hold me. hold me.but you were holding me that night, and i didn't want it because i knew i would be writing this sometime in the future, or something similar to this, because i am a fickle creature and i didn't know you at all. i don't know you, darling. first time, last time.out of character and awkward but comfortable. does it make any sense at all to you? because it barely does to me.i don't think i ever loved you like i thought i loved him, i don't know if i loved him, i don't think i could love you, or maybe i just can't love because i don't know what that curious thing is. is it the adventure you talked about? were you serious? were you serious with me? were you ever serious? did you love her? what happened between you two? did you love her? i want to know everything...do you know everything? tell me. tell me what you did, what she did, what it was like, to like and to love. tell me what i am to you, because i don't know, and i'd like to. a cross between a teddy bear and a mother? you probably forgot this existed. words will be words, and these aren't spoken, or even properly written and i can't picture you reading them right now. answer my questions, and take that stubborn filter out of your mind when i ask because now, it doesn't matter what you say, i just want to hear your words, spoken or written or typed. am i on one of those ships sailing around? are they still bothering you? am i still bothering you? you are bothering me with your silence. the truth is, i'm horrible at interpreting all that is implicit. i only hope that you understand what i want to say but never pronounce because i swallow before the sounds make it out of my mouth. i am rambling because every time these thoughts ram against me i tear up in public places, like the subway, and the park, and the streets between the met and madison sq. park and i am not sure if i should the wipe blurriness away because it feels nice to know that this is all bothering me so much. because one day, this will all be past, and i'll be so calloused and aged and like an adult that i won't care and all i'll be able to do is say, ha, silly me, that wasn't worth crying over. i'll be like my mother then. i'll say to myself, well, well, that's that, it's natural when you are young...ha. i feel old already.