Let me just set one thing straight, we are children, aren’t we? I mean, we like to get lost in the forest and play pretend, we pretend that life is not so much bigger than us, when really we’re just as lost as the rest. What are we even doing? Thinking that we fell in love and that our dreams are within reach, that everything is much simpler than it actually is, and that we will get there, just give me a couple of years.
You remind me of a boy, doesn’t matter that you’re in your mid-twenties, you are a boy. Your eyes sparkle, your hands get animated, and you smile so wide your make my heart feel just a tad warmer.
We argue all the time, because I don’t call you enough, when the only time I spend away from you is the couple hours of sleep I allow myself sometimes, because I get jealous, and because you say your eyes are brown and I say they’re not.
You came in when I least expected you to, and you say you wanted to stay. And so I let you. Not really, because I’ll keep pushing you away, because I’m afraid you’ll leave me, and I’ll get hurt, and I’ll hate myself for being dumb, and…
If only you knew how annoying and endearing you get when you beg me not to leave, because that will drive you mad, and because please, don’t let me get sick, and promise me you’re not going anywhere.
When I think about it, it just seems like we went 10 years back in time, we’re back to being teens, we’re wild, we’re careless, we steal kisses from each other behind buildings, and we angry cry every time one of us is out of sight.
Because our minds are distorted, our chests are tight, and our fingers forever intertwined.
This time, I let you be the storyteller.
And so we try to recreate the world, you with your art and long hair, and I, with my cynicism.