by J. Tyler BLUE

I am wait­ing and sit­ting and think­ing and pre­tend­ing that you do not ex­ist and you are not re­al and I can re­turn to my nor­mal­ly sched­uled life. I am in the mid­dle of do­ing this while I check my email and voice­mail and click­ing and won­der­ing and wait­ing and pre­tend­ing it is­n’t you. It is­n’t you be­cause, be­cause, be­cause my life is filled with too many things any­way. I just met you. You don’t know my mid­dle name. You don’t know how I like my ice cream. You don’t even know if I like cats or dogs or clouds. I like them all, by the way.

I feel asleep on a train once and when I woke up I did­n’t know where I was. I missed my stop, I guess, but it was beau­ti­ful and ex­cit­ing. I won­der if I am sleep­ing. I won­der if I’ll wake up. I won­der, if I do, will I be able to speak Japan­ese this time?

Of course I’m scared. Of course I’m scared. Who is­n’t scared?

Maybe I’m just self­ish. Maybe I am just ask­ing for too much. Maybe all you want from me is a lit­tle bit and all you want to give is your name, maybe your num­ber, maybe you’ll have din­ner and tell me a joke. But that does­n’t mean you want to un­der­stand me or know me or any­thing re­al­ly. Maybe it is like that for you in­stead of me this time.

I’m just guess­ing when I draw maps on the back of your hand with my fin­ger. I’m just pre­tend­ing not to no­tice how you leaned in­to me at the park. I’m just guess­ing you like art bet­ter than my smile.

I don’t want to fall like yes­ter­day’s whis­per. I don’t want to for­get all that has­n’t hap­pened. I think if you punch me I would feel bet­ter but I re­al­ly just want to hold your hand and make be­lieve this is real.

I don’t want an ending.

Filed under Non-Fiction on November 15th, 2004

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