To My Friends

If I ever push you away, I really don't mean to. When I tell you that I don't want to talk about it, I do; I'm just looking for the right words. Give me a minute, and if I can tell you, I will. I try to be a struggling mix of real and perfect at the same time, whilst simultaneously succeeding at failing at being either. Most times I try to just pass for adequate. When I get really quiet, it's because I have too much to say. I have thought of too many things to tell you all at once, and I don't know what to say first. Sometimes I get sad because I know that I don't really fit in anywhere, but at the same time I feel hopeful because I know that one day I will find a place where I truly belong. And I am anxious because I'm not entirely sure that I truly ever want to fit in.

I get immaturely jealous of anyone who gets to see you on a daily basis.

That's not the only way that I can be immature, though. I have a childish mind. A very childish mind. I don't talk about the same things that other people do and I don't think the same way that other people do, and I'm not saying that I'm the only one. There's nothing special about who I am or how I am, it's just different from you, I guess. I see things differently and I appreciate my childish ways because they make life a lot simpler. But, sometimes, I wish I could be more grown up, because grown ups don't say stupid things or do stupid things and embarrass themselves. And grown ups know what they're doing, or at least they're able to trick people into believing that they know what they're doing. I'm kind of a loose cannon.

I change my mind, a lot. The dreams that I dream and the plans that I have for my life are ridiculous, and even I am realistic enough to accept that they won't all come true, but I'm too stubborn to stop dreaming. And I'm too stubborn to completely lose hope in my belief that, somehow, there has to be a chance for my dreams. I don't want to disappoint you. I want to surprise you. And I want to make you proud and I want you to be happy.

Because of you, I am more whole than I have ever been in my entire life, but I still feel incomplete. Don't take that the wrong way. I don't know what it is that's missing, but I'll know what it is when it's not missing anymore. I'm easily influenced by clichéd romantic comedies and love songs, so I've been lead to believe that the thing that's missing is love. I'm naïve. I believe in true love. I believe in love in first sight. I believe in an everlasting love, even though I have yet to experience any of those things.

Sometimes I feel better when I am alone, and sometimes I feel better when I am with you. Either way, I miss you really easily, but I also like that we can be apart, and we're both okay. Space is good, too. I love the way we love some of the same things. And I love how we love entirely different things. My head is a complicated pile of thoughts, and fears, and cravings, and dreams, and this tangled up nostalgia for the past and, somehow, the future. I am flawed and I am human and I am broken and I am trying. I am one person and I am two hands and I am one heart and I am one very confused and muddled up mind.

And I love you and I am so glad that you are here.