10May2014
If I were to die tonight,
I would want him to know that I see this light in him. I'm a boat on open water. He tends to be that bright lighthouse at the edge. It's comforting to know I am close to shore. Not yet drifted away. But he tends to get further and further. At first I didn't believe it. Love. (Just the word itself bothers the entirety of my body; so thrown around and absurdly described, yet words aren't microscopic enough to detail the every crevice of my sentiments) At first I didn’t believe it, but I think this is what it feels like. I think your heart is supposed to feel this way and your mind is supposed to act this way. It wouldn’t make sense otherwise. Everything he says I agree with, and I do not think that’s a coincidence. It has been a week and I still wake up every morning thinking about him. I rarely go more than a few minutes without something creating a flash of his silhouette across my mind. It has gotten to the point where it hurts to much to be in the same room as him. I want to burn my yearbook. His quote is perfect, your quote is perfect. It is you. I don’t know how else to describe it, but I read it, and I just knew. The universes… like your books. And composure… the best way to describe you. It’s you. That’s all. I would want you to know: that I understand it. I deserve at least that, for you to know that I understand you, more than you think.
I cannot smell cigarettes without thinking about how you let a bit escape from your mouth, inhale it all in as if its your final breathe, and then exhale… It is a beautiful thing you do with that smoke. You let it linger and live for a moment. It dances by your lips. You mock its vitality, and then you let it in, accepting that it’s energy will drain yours. You let it mock your vitality too. What an equal relationship. What a thought.
The thing is Noah, the cigarettes you light one after another won’t help you forget her. You might love her, but she’ll always be too far to touch and too far too grab onto. And if there is anyone who doesn’t deserve that, it’s you.
You lit me up and then threw me to the ground just like your many cigarettes. You let me linger by your lips. Mocking my vitality. You let me dance and live for a second. Just a few though. Not long enough to remember the feeling. And then blew me out. I wish I could feel that feeling again, but that would mean I would have to feel the other stuff too then. The other bad stuff. I think it would be worth it though. Because now I am numb. I liked it better when I was feeling things. Now I don’t. I’ve evaporated in the air. You can’t even tell I am here anymore. I am invisible. You brought me to life. You made me out of nothing, made me into everything, and let me sink back into the sky. You buried me under the tens of thousands of other exhalations. I am still here though. Let me know when you want me revitalized. I am always waiting.
"Thank you for using me, even though I didn’t want to be used by anybody"
You were worth it.
-reiD.