in ten days it will have been a year
since the day you first spoke to me.
a year since you picked out the nail color that i wore for the first three weeks of my fifteenth year on this earth.
a year after we laughed at the boy who begged for me at every opportunity.
and a year after i ruined my life.

i wonder what would happen if you broke up with her
and i had the chance to go after you.
would i still smile at you every time i saw you in the hallway?
would i still wait for you to say hi and then act like i wasn’t expecting it?
i hate to say it
but i think i’d go back to treating you like a friend;
the butterflies would leave
with the fear that she might find out i had feelings for you.
maybe i don’t want you,
i just like the idea of something i can’t have.

a short, exasperated little thing slams her locker and scurries around the corner
practically slamming into a telephone pole of a guy.
he smiles, says her name, and asks if she was trying to run him over
and it takes her a few seconds for the wheels of her brain to slow down enough to respond;
an awkward laugh and an eye roll
and a sarcastic “yeah” that is shouted as he’s still walking the other direction.
the wheels start up again and her little legs move even faster to make up for lost time.

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.

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.

if i had to say
who i’ve filled the most pages for
it wouldn’t be the boy
with the hazel eyes
who will probably never realize how i feel;
or the boy with money
who barely remembers my name;
or even the boy who’s with my best friend.
no, if i really counted,
i’ve written the most about a blue-eyed boy with a lisp and a broken heart, who i’ve only ever truly met once.

maybe one day
our winding paths will cross
in one open patch of green grass,
and we’ll stay there,
away from the chaos;
and the people who tell us
what to do
and who to be,
they’ll all be lost in the woods.

i was making a bracelet today,
one of the woven types
that the “cool girls” in elementary school would come back from the beach with strands of their hair wrapped in.
you said you would wear one on your wrist
and asked me to show you how to make one.
when i finished,
dissatisfied with the crookedness of the swirling threads,
and asked if you would want it,
you smiled that smile
and let me tie it around your wrist.
don’t say i never gave you anything.

it’s crazy to think
that after all this time
we’ve lost that “another life” connection.
you don’t cry to me anymore
and i don’t try to fix you.
you aren’t the person i go to when i’m sad anymore,
because you don’t listen and give the best advice anymore.
we’re just two people
who used to have something
that i thought was so special.
i’m just the girl you go to for instant gratification
and you’re just the boy i can’t let go of.

it’s almost silly
how perfect this is.
when i’m too sensitive
you’re logical and empathetic.
when i plan a perfect future
you tell me that it might not happen that way
and that that’s okay.
you want to be a leader
with intelligent advisors helping you along the way;
i would much rather help someone achieve great things than have the weight of the world on my shoulders.
when i’m distracted
you pull my focus back in.
when i’m discouraged
you tell me how it will all work out.
when i’m sad
you beg for me to confide in you.
when you convince yourself that you’re right
i offer a different perspective.
i haven’t seen home alone
and you haven’t seen mamma mia.
you’re a jfk
and i’m a jackie.

Why do you have this power over me?
I don’t love you
but you could ask for the world and I would get it for you.
Why do I let you use me?
I’m your *****-
you pay me in cheap conversations
and reassurance that I’ll find love one day.
I don’t want to do this
but yet here I go again,
back into our routine
just like you said.

i haven’t been this honest
since the first month i knew you-
that sacred april
when the cherry blossoms bloomed for Easter
and then left as soon as they arrived,
and the wasps buzzed around my porch,
not daring to sting me.
the sun came out from its hiding place,  
and i wore white shoes.
oh, how i loved that spring.

something about you
always reminds me
of who i could have become.
when a child whispers her wishes into the stars
they become you.

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.

there are moments in life
when the only thought that occurs in your brain,
over and over like a scratched record,
is “i could be in love with someone like you”

i wish i could live forever in those moments
and my entire life would be filled with wonder.
id wake up to the sound of my own heartbeat
and fall asleep with my lips curled in a smile.

four years ago you stood on that stage with a microphone
and the words flowed from your mouth in such a way
that made giggles flow from mine.
she and i held hands,
and vowed to each other
an unspoken allegiance to you
and that voice.

tonight you stood on the same stage
with a microphone;
the words were different,
but they flowed the same.
this time, she stood behind you, smiling
and i sat in the audience
like i had four years ago,
not giggling anymore
but still allegiant.

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.

for the first time in a month
you almost met my eyes in the hallway.
you almost smiled
i saw it when you turned away.
it’s okay,
i almost smiled too.

as i look out my window
and see the blue ridge mountains
i am reminded
of a boy
who wanted to live in virginia.

as my parents drive on this curvy interstate,
its him yelling at the cars and eighteen-wheelers,
and it’s me reading in the passenger seat.

as we near the city ,
it’s us taking the metro each day
to jobs in important places.
and taking it back home each night
to our home in virginia
with jam, and coffee, and china cabinets.

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.

I get in this habit
of meeting someone
and free falling off a cliff
while they watch.

It’s destructive
because as I get to know them,
I create an image in my head
of someone perfect that things would work out with.

Months pass and relationships fade
but feelings don’t.
I always bring myself back into a situation that will never be real.

Eventually, I decide that I have moved on,
and then the next person comes along.
He feels like something new,
but like someone I’ve known my entire life.
I always marvel at this amazing concept,
of people being living contradictions,
but every person I fall for seems to be that way:
in my head he’s perfect;
in real life he’s far from it.

thank you for teaching me
about boundaries
and respect
and self-control.
thank you for showing me
friendship
when you could have shown me
disdain.
thank you for accepting apologies
that were two years too late
and continuing to inspire me
to reach for something more.

a list of reasons why i can’t stand you

1: you treat me like a child
2: you act like i’m worthless since i’m not in a relationship
3: you pressure me
4: you undermine my problems
5: you use me
6: you make me feel worthless and powerful at the same time
7: you’re an emotional cheater
8: i don’t know how to forget you
9: i think i’ll always want you
10: you’ll never be clear about how you feel/felt  about me.

i hope one day
i can look back
at all the boys i chased,
see them,
happy with the lives they've made;
see myself,
and know i've moved on.

i miss the way i used to write:
how the words sprung from my fingertips
and painted beautiful images,
inspired emotions,
personified feelings.

you're like smooth jazz,
a piano rolling out notes
as Louis's trumpet dances.

like sweet coffee,
swirled with cream and sugar,
warm to the touch

a quiet walk in the park
preceding a picnic on the lush grass.

soft comforts in a loud world.

i’m so used
to instant attraction
that i overlooked you
for years.
now i look back
and can’t believe i missed all the signs

i don't like the way you treat me,
like i'm just a puzzle,
for you to take out when you're bored
and attempt to put together.
the pieces don't fit,
but you always try and force them to.
just because she won't let you solve her,
doesn't mean i will.
i don't belong to you
and i never will.

i have one friend
who i can sit and talk to for hours
about politics and
feminism
and Christianity.

i have another
who makes us all question everything.
he always asks “why?”
he has an ability to form an opinion so different from what is “normal.”

i also have a friend
who sings so loudly
even though he doesn’t sound the best...
he is a leader among us,
and he shoots free throws with me in the gym after church.

i have one more friend
who i’ve known for a very long time
and who is so goofy.
he’s always doing something funny
and he’s one of the most loyal people i’ve ever met.

one i know i’ll be friends with forever,
another i’ll probably consult every so often if i have an important deep question.
another who is looking at the basketball team of the school who’s journalism program i love,
and my family will always be connected to the other one’s.
it worries me to think about the future;
i’m living so strongly in the now.

i want to learn
how to love myself
instead of wasting time
loving boys who will never love me back.
maybe i should take a break from them:
the young men who make my heart flutter and sink all in the range of a 5 minute conversation
and focus on what really matters.
i should worry less about giving love to so many others
and worry more about giving it to myself.

i hope you never give it back-
it’s childish, i know.
but i want to see you
wear my hair tie on your wrist.
i want people to ask you
whose it is
and i want you to tell them.
i want it to be your favorite accidental gift
that you’ve ever received.
so no, you don’t have to give it back.

the fact that
you were starting to like me
and i was starting to like you
and people were telling you i was a terrible person
and that you should like someone else,
makes me want to go back in time and tell you how i felt.
we could have had something
if only we had known about the other’s feelings
and you hadn’t listened to my supposed friends.

i sit for hours
trying to write something beautiful
and worthy of the world,
but all that comes from my heart
are nonsense poems about you.