my attachment to you scares me-
it always has.
i thought maybe we could be soulmates,
that that was why i bawled like a baby when you left,
or why i still look for your car in the parking lot
even though i know it will never be there.
but today,
i realized my idealism  got the better of me again-
i simultaneously over and underestimated your purpose in my life.
you are not here to tell me i’m pretty
or to hold my hand.
you are here to be you.  
you.
the person who spoke sense into me when i refused to listen,
knowing i already knew the answer to the questions i mulled over obsessively,
who was not there to teach me something
but to help me realize i am smart enough
capable enough
logical enough
to figure things out on my own.
not a soulmate-
romantic, platonic, or other.
we are not kindred spirits
we are good friends
and, yes, i am sorry to admit that i have indeed placed you on a pedestal
but it’s a different kind of pedestal:
one that i use to remind myself
of my own ability
to hold up a mirror-
to my own face,
and to the face of others,
to show them that they too are
smart enough
capable enough
logical enough
to figure things out on their own.

here i am
thinking about a boy who wanted to live in virginia.

here i am
wondering what i did wrong,
and how i managed to misunderstand
every little thing.

here i am
regretting wasting over a year
convincing myself that we could be perfect
and beating myself up when we didn’t live up to that expectation.

every day, without fail
for two years-
well, one and two thirds-
we’d pass each other in the hallway
and either smile,
or you’d say something-
something friendly, or weird, or obnoxious.

even when we were angry with each other,
we’d speak silently
with avoided eye contact
and brisk walks.

now, as i learn that we’ll never have a moment like that again,
the last one is burned into my mind.
you loudly joked
about me being sick,
when i passed you in the history hallway
like i did every single day this year.

i think i’m gonna miss those moments
more than i will ever admit to you.

you became a memory
in the same way you became a moment-
slow at first
with car rides
and football games.
with missed calls
and changed plans.
and then in a rush
of butterflies and smiles
of laughter and deep conversations-
of days without speaking
and nights spent thinking of someone else.

i wonder if you like
video games
or is breaking my heart
the only game you like to play?

the other day i told you
that i love the smell of fresh laundry
warm to the touch,
it smells like home.
i said i loved gilmore girls
because watching it made me feel at home.
i never realized how desperately i cling
to the comforting feeling of being home.
my face fills with the same familiar warmth
when i sit too close to you on the bus
or lean on you at the game.
you feel like home
i never want to lose that feeling.