i have never been one to compare myself to others
to look at me and wish to see them,
to hide within myself

i have never been one to cry at the plate in front of me
to dread the feeling
of feeling more empty
as my stomach feels full

i have never been one to chase boys
who would never chase me
to be like her so you would like me
to lose myself in order to do so

i have never been one to slowly slip away
to be seen but not touched
to be read but not understood
to be forgiven but not forgotten

yes
let's pretend
that ive never been one of these things

it's the stupid things
like how when i had to draw a self portrait for art class
and i asked you if you had any candids of me. . .
you said no.

it's the stupid things
like how you'll take a while to respond to my texts
and leave me wondering
what i did

it's the stupid things
like how you don't call me by my name in conversation
but say her's like it's a holy word

it's the stupid things
like how when she talks
you look right up
but when i talk
your head stays down

it's the stupid things
like how you tag her first
and then me second
in those dog pictures
that we both like

it's the stupid things
like how you used to lift me up when we hugged
but now
my feet don't leave the ground

maybe they're not so much stupid things
but little things
that truly mean so much

i hear the wind howling and i almost hope it will just take me
                             up
                                  up
                         ­              and
away.

there's a crack on my phone and whenever i see it i think of you because that's exactly what you did to my heart

- j.r.

sometimes
i think that
we will never be like how they are on tv
ill never own a key to your house
ill never be able to just barge in unannounced
ill never be able to just sit at your dining room table and have a conversation with your mom
over mugs of hot
steaming
tea
but then i remember
that we are nothing like those on tv
we are so incredibly different:
we are real
and to be quite honest
i dont think id wish it any other way


― j.c.

sometimes
im surprised by the fact
that i didnt know
about that trip you took to italy
(third grade? was it in third grade? i dont know)
and that
i didnt know
the name
of the brother you never met
and that i sometimes dont know
what your actions mean
and then i remember
that it's only been two years.
two years since we properly met
and even less since we became friends,
and then best friends,
and then something more.
and that shocks me
because i dont remember a time without you there.
these two (or less) years have felt like an eternity
and ive realized that that's because when im with you
i feel immortalized
and that the reason i cant remember a life without you
is because you have always been there.
the person i used to dream of when i was young:
the person who would hold me in their arms,
the person who i would always be able to talk to,
the person who would always be there for me. . .
i didnt know it then: that person was going to be,
i know now: that person is,
i know i know i know: that person will forever be,
forever be
You.

―  j.r.

it's because i love you, you idiot.
that's why.
that's the reason for the lingering hugs,
for the long gazes,
for the secret smiles.
that's the reason why my camera roll is filled of pictures of you and none of me.
why, when we went to that art museum i ******* you about what I thought of those stupid paintings because they meant nothing to me and i couldn't even look at them when the most beautiful piece of artwork was standing right next to me:
You.
that was why i wouldn't let you see the photos i took that day because my lens never did find Van Gogh but instead found you.
but no matter how much i secretly write to you it will never be the same for you.
i bet your camera roll is filled of Picasso and Claude Monet and Édouard Manet because to you, they were the only artwork in the room.
they were what you stared agape at, head tilted, disbelief in your eyes,
when for me,
that was You.


― j.r.

sometimes
i catch myself
looking over at you
just
laughing,
eating,
or working,
and i catch myself
feeling completely immersed
in a feeling of joy
...
but then
sometimes
i look over at you
and you're
staring at the ground,
or staring off into space,
or just staring into nothing,
and because i know
that thats what you do
when you feel nothing at all
i catch myself
feeling the need
to do anything
to make you feel something
...
and then
after all the staring is done
and you are
perfectly balanced
on the spectrum of emotion
i catch myself thinking

why aren't you ever looking over at me?


― j.r.