The moment I let go was the moment that I got more than I could handle

I don't believe in planning your life over twenty years ahead, to me this is not something I can comprehend. I kind of see it as pointless, you leave no room to let things take their own course, there is no room for error. I like change, I like good unexpected occurrences, and I like learning to deal with what doesn't destroy will eventually make me stronger. The whole time I'm listening to your sonnet, that is your existence, I'm wondering where I fit into this. And I start feeling like I'm not so sure I want to fit into your perfectly methodical equation. You're a problem solver concrete and purely factual. I'm a free spirit, I am analytical but I look at things a little more abstract than most.
But, there are these pair of eyes I can't get out of my mind. Without them I become a cynical bitch to say the least. I think about them and everything slowly gets a little less serious, a little easier to decipher.

3:33 am

In the early hours of the day are when I miss you most, I just want to be around you, for you to be near me. You ask what I'm worried about most, do I worry for selfish reasons? Of course I do, I am so damn lonely and you are the only person that appreciates my anxiousness and eccentricities every single day. I am worried about cutting the cord to find you are what keeps me sane, I should be able to function on my own. Where do you start? Where do I end? What really scares me is the person that you could possibly become. Will all your original theories be lost? Will you be tainted by all that you will see? You scorned me yesterday, telling me I can't have an opinion I did not participate. But people who have been there are supposed to tell you it's not that bad, it's their job, it's all in the paperwork. You're becoming federal property. You tell me I can brag about what you're doing over there, but I've never been the bragging type. I always thought this was a joke that you could never be serious about it, tomorrow you'll decide.
"You are all I have here, I don't have anything waiting for me."

I try to argue with you, I lay on my side and the tears from my left eye fall into my right. I yell, but no sound comes out. I consider my own major choices, should I just pack up and leave to San Francisco? Should I just get away from everything and everyone on the East Coast? I can't help to think I might be better off being entirely disconnected. I read through your papers, it says you are signing up for 6-8 years, you did not tell me this. I wonder if the people that you talked to are telling you even the slightest truth. We sit in the car driving through the back roads to Salmon River, my arms are folded and I'm looking out the window. You keep talking about the benefits, this will help you get ahead. You get frustrated because I don't have a distinct stance on anything, I'm passive. I tell you to just stop bringing it up, I want to have a normal day. Hours later the sun fades into a million colors and you ask me if I just want to keep driving, I say yes.

c.e,

When you hear a name or a word you instantly connect to an image, a sound, a smell, or even a long line of words strung together haphazardly in your extensive bank of memories. I hear yours and lately my mind has been redirected to combative masculinity, I sleep with you at night in the form of wearing your shirts, it's like I'd rather have this form of you than to be with you in person. The idea of you is more conducive. I feel guilty because when I have talked about you lately I have taken such a tone that makes me ill, and I hate myself for it. You have no knowledge of any of this and I'm thankful. I am dishonest, and I have prided myself for years on being able to unwillingly always tell the truth, but I think this is the one time that I will lie and carry it around always. What I did was wrong, there are no excuses and to think about you committing this act would induce such unfathomable rage. I am a hypocrite, but I feel like this month will have soon melted away with the rest of this winter's snow. I can start anew, I can make it up to you, unknowingly. I just looked at my cell phone and there was a note. I put it there after a long day spent with you over a cup of coffee and winter's leftovers. I want to really feel for real, it shouldn't matter anyway. The only person I have been hiding from is myself.

And it just feels good when you're waking up
And it just feels good when you're next to me
And it just feels good when you're coming home
And it just feels good when you're waking up

And I've become just like a chemical stress
Tracing the lines of my face for
Something more beautiful than is there
I've barely been gone

And I'm not a failure, I swear

I wish you could see it from over there

I've got a lot over here without you
I've barely been gone

Gone dreaming

This is everything that I am right now, completely infinite in this second

____ is ____

Late and cold we wander; smell of sale and cumber walks.
The faster we go the quicker we'll end.
Beige-backed jumpers scared from those crooked stares, proved wrong
On public roads named by our attic air.
Tada to town light fire
Forks in the road we're not, spoons more so we're caught.
This town is dead from too much living, let's make our ending from new beginnings.

I think of you in colors that don't exist

We pour over each other, words bouncing off each other.
I felt so close to everyone last night, everyone except for you.
Could it have been the smoke, or the tapestries?
Was it the unfinished industrial lavatory?
Tell me, what made you get lost in yourself, to dig that hole?
You said that we were in a hell hole, well "our hell is the good life."
You are good enough.
I know you say that your intelligence is all that you have, but it doesn't have to be
There is so much more.
I see you in colors that don't exist, I can't describe your face, I can't describe all that you are to me.
I want to document what it is that lies between us.

"oh god it's wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much"
Excerpt from Frank O'Hara 'Steps'