You are the fireflies,
laughs in the bodega,
the skip under my step,
the late night in a city we don’t know.
You are the butterflies in my stomach,
the numbness in my arms,
the smile aching on my face.
And no, you aren’t only these things,
but they hold pieces of you
that will never be lost.
No matter how many more memories
I build on top of them,
or how much I sometimes wish
You are every late night phone call,
every FaceTime ring,
and all of the texts I prayed
were from you.
For the entirety of my life,
you are the happinessI will search for,
because you are the fireflies
we caught that night.
I once wrote a letter. It contained my deepest thoughts and feelings about you… and I never sent it. I wanted to, trust me, but ultimately, it’s now tucked into my journal—the pages torn from being carried around for so long—and it’s going to stay there, invisibly so.
I think I wrote it wrong. I think I was right to leave you be, but again, I was wrong to believe that letter could change something. I’m not sure what it was; that you’d finally understand why I was so hurt, that you’d empathize and feel for me, or that I’d convince you to love me.
Continue reading “Continuing.”
I say this all the time: I am so grateful for the people who surround me. When I’m with these people I feel justified, challenged, and loved. The comfort that comes with finding those who match what you are looking for in lifelong friends is like finding a dozen soulmates you can be yourself with, endlessly.
So, how did this happen? I’ll get into it, but fortunately for me, it runs in my blood. My greatest credible example comes from Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People, in which my great-grandfather’s business model is featured.
Continue reading “How to Manipulate Anyone into Loving You”
I think of you when I’m up here.
I believed I would find a person who always made me think of them when I travelled anywhere, and now I do, without you as mine.
You’re in the breeze and the view I thought I’d share with you. You’re in the sun and the ground we would have made ours.
You were the one who I believed in, and now the breeze is empty, the view is mine, the sun rests behind a cloud, and this ground belongs to no one.
Still, I think of you when I’m up here, believing in things that once were.