Drifting

After a storm, when boats have been dashed against the rocks, pieces of wood float on the waves. The water may seem so calm when you see the broken vessels, but if you really think about... it can be rather frightening. It's a piece of wood. As in, sliced up, hacked up tree. Once growing and stemming and changing; now dead, carved, and hacked to conform to a shape and size. And then, after it had been massacred... It was destroyed. It had served as a means of travel, carrying people safely about the dangerous waters, only to face terrible weather and misfortunes and to lose itself to the waters. And now, broken, it floats on the betraying water. Maybe it'll be found and used for warmth, but for now it's lost and dead.

What a question to ask!

"Oh well."

"Yeah, it happens."

"I never thought it would to me, though."

"You never see it coming, do you?"

"Shut up."

"Ha ha."

"How can you laugh?"

"Because you spent your entire life talking about how much you wanted it and now you can have it. Yet, you're hesitating."

"I didn't see it coming!"

"Really? It wasn't obvious?"

"No, it wasn't."

"I thought it was. Everything seemed clear."

"You think a lot of things."

"What about you? Are you going to say yes?"

"I don't know... I don't know who it is. What's a note, anyway? Faceless."

"Well, let's hope our note-giver has the courage to come out."

"I don't know. I'd probably only consider it if they were like..."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. No one really comes to mind!"

"Sucks to be them then."

"No, I mean... I need them to be my best friend. Someone who understands me. You know I'm crazy and kind of out there."

"It's true, I do know that very well."

"Well, there's no one out there who really knows that!"

"Other than me."

"Other than you."

"..."

"What?"

"Are you sure you're not in love with me?"

"Don't be an arrogant jerk!"

"I was kidding! Ha ha, it was a joke. Why are you so uptight?"

"I'm not! Crap, I dropped my books."

"I'll get them, you keep talking. What else does he need to have?"

"Thanks... He needs to be nice. And smart too."

"Yeah, you're too smart for your own good. Someone needs to keep you in line."

"Ha, yeah."

"So, what are you going to do about the note? You going to meet them?"

"I don't know. I really don't! What kind of person asks that kind of question in a note? Not outgoing enough, for sure."

"Maybe they want to be sure how you feel. Or they're a chicken. Or they're ugly. Oooh, the last one I think."

"Don't be dumb."

"Sorry."

"I think I'll ignore it. I can pretend I never saw it."

"But what if the person who sent you that note turns out to be understand you like that? And they're nice? And smart? What if they're everything you wanted and you lost them because you're too scared to do anything?"

"You don't think they should have the courage to ask me in person? I don't know them at all!"

"I think you do."

"You know who it is?"

"I do."

"Who?"

"One more question, then I'll tell you."

"What?"

"Will you marry me?"

Mistakes made

I am sorry, I can't help it
Mistakes made because I'm selfish
Everything I do is too much,
If I stop then I will lose touch.

One too many big mistakes,
How many heart breaks does it take?
I have lost all self control,
If I stop I'll never go.

I feel stupid, slow and dim,
I don't see where I have been.
My mistakes, shrouded in mist,
Why can't I just make a list.

Why can't I just get it right?
Make the right turns, act real bright?
Maybe I'm just not right at all,
Maybe I am meant to fall.

I remembered

I thought about you today. But mostly I remembered.
How we met at the pool at Josh's birthday. How you carried me around the pool and when we went into the deep end, you frightened me until I made you come back up again because I didn't want my new friend to die. I remembered our birthday. We share it, remember? It was a Friday. I was asleep when Justin called. He was speaking on your behalf and asked me to go to the beach with you guys. I remember hearing you laugh in the background when I told him it was my birthday. That was when we found out we were exactly two years apart. The first time we danced. It was the next day, in fact. A dance in Santa Cruz. The first time you let me wear your sunglasses. The tables had dum-dums all over them and you put some in your pocket. I kept looking for the mystery flavor. I picked one up and you stole it and pocketed it. So I unwrapped the next one, and you ate it out of my hand. I love dum-dums now. Our first dance together though. You taught me how to two-step. And when I looked up at you, your eyes were looking at me. I'll never forget how it felt the first time your arm reached around my back to pull me in for a closer dance. I've never danced with anyone else that way. It's always been that way with you, though. When the time came for everyone to leave, I ran away from you so I could hide with your sunglasses. I remember walking to the cars and seeing you suddenly come from nowhere on the wall. How you lunged at the glasses in my hair. How when I dodged behind a car, you flew to the ground but managed to stay up. I remember a dance at Morgan Hill. My ride didn't have room for me, so you offered to take me home even though you lived 20 minutes in the opposite direction. I remember listening to that song and watching your face light up with the roar of the engine. How you looked at me and forgot you were driving. I remember talking to you every night. I remember how comfortable you got in talking to me. I remember when you asked if I wanted to go bowling with you. How Olin didn't bring a date because he couldn't find one. How as we walked into Johnny Rockets, I gave you a box of Mike n' Ikes because they were your favorite candy. I remember how hard you hugged me. When you let your arm rest on the back of my chair. You laughed at me every time I fell to my knees because I messed up my bowl. I remember coming home and sitting on my front porch. How you held my hand so gently, and your tough fingers, long oil stained from working on Pudge, softly rubbing my hands to warm them up. How Olin came running up because he was lonely and we both rolled our eyes. I remember how you came over one day with a bunch of your friends (who soon became mine too) and roller-bladed in my neighborhood, saying we had the best hills for miles. The how you came over everyday just to see me, even though you lived all the way in San Jose, and I lived in Los Gatos. How we would sit in my backyard on my brick wall and you'd hold my hand. How you teased me and "fell" off the wall. When we sat on the rock wall in front of my house and you put your head on my shoulder and examined my hands. You let your wall down for me. And you bought a sketchpad and tried drawing the characters from your favorite movie, just for me. To show me. I remember you bringing Pudge over for the first time and telling me why you named him that. Your favorite movie. Then when I went to Utah and you emailed me every night even though you hated emailing. How you always signed your emails with "much love." And how you called me... angel...
Then I remembered the worst of it. How I thought you were becoming too close. How I told you to back off a little. Then how I told you to call before you came over. Then I did everything I could to push you away. I admit, I was hoping you'd go away. But you didn't understand that I always push those I care about away before I truly can spend time with them. You didn't understand and now the chance is gone.
I know you still love Mike n' Ikes. I wonder if Lilo and Stitch is still your favorite movie.

I thought about you today. But mostly... I remembered.

Charades

I am not myself.

It's like a sandbag is on my chest. Heavy and thick. Constant. Equally spread, yet oh so heavy.
It's like my lungs are full of some heavy gas. I cannot breathe through it, I cannot expel it from inside of me.
I feel empty though. Where is my heart? Is it beating? I cannot feel it. I can't tell.
It's like my stomach is made of putty and someone is pulling and stretching the bottom out. Pulling, pulling, stretching, yanking. Oh, it agitates me and leaves me restless.
It's like my eyes have been rubbed with glue. Wherever they move to, I cannot move them away from. My lids will not close. They will not open.
The world looks foggy. And I can't find the defroster. It's getting worse and worse. I can't tell if my exit is coming up or not. I think I may have missed it.
I feel like my muscles have been salted and hung out in a hollowed out hickory tree. The embers are burning, and the smoke leaves me stiff, dry and shriveled.
My neck seems to be made of rubber. Or jell-o. It cannot stay up and seems to have no desire to, for that matter.

I am not myself.