Four people in the car. You’re in the front seat.

Your head drifts towards the cold car window
And you begin to think…

You think about all that you’ve been through
And how far you’ve come
You think about all the people you have hurt
And the scars that decorate your heart
You think about parties from college
And the tears you’ve shed behind closed doors
You think about the love you’ve lost
And the love you don’t deserve
You think about whether people really care about you
And how little you care about yourself.

I watch you from the backseat
As you begin to drift off into a light slumber
And I think to myself…

“Fool. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?”

I want to be famous
I want to be known
I want to be loved by the masses

I want a stage to perform
I want millions of people to scream my name
I want the world to shed tears when they hear my voice

I want to be an icon
I want to dress in designer clothes
I want to be on the cover of every magazine

I want the press to write about my talent
I want the press to write about my beauty
I want the press to write about my grace

I want to break world records
I want to go down in history as the best
I want to be remembered forever

I then realize that with fame comes a jarring sense of loneliness
Because although you have millions of fans that chant your name
And a cast of characters that help you succeed
And expensive clothes
And all the money in the world
No one knows, and will ever know, who you truly are
And you won’t ever know the people or their story
Because you’ve become a two-dimensional figure with
No flaws
No insecurities
No regret
With no time to spend on anyone but yourself

It’s funny
When you’re famous, everyone knows who you are
And yet
You don’t understand a thing about what you’ve become.

New Year’s Day – The first time I’ve seen you in two years.

It’s funny, for two years, I never once thought about you.
You were never on my mind.
You were never considered.
I never fantasized about you.
I never dreamed about you.
But then I saw you.

Tall, fit, messy hair.
White tee, sweatpants, and a bit of scruff.
Seeing you like this, all grown-up, brand new
It made me mad.

I’m mad because for two years
Two whole years
I’ve said nothing.
Two whole years
I never reached out.
Two whole years
And now, I can finally see.

I like you. A lot.
And I think you might like me.
At least, I think you could like me.

But before things could start, they end.
I fly back to Chicago soon,
Who knows when I’ll be back.
You fly back to school soon,
Who knows when you’ll be back.
And yet, here I am, holding my breath.

**** my ignorance.
**** my bad timing.
**** my feelings for you.

**** you for looking so good in sweatpants.

I approached you at the party.
A friend.
A friend I haven't spoken to in 2 years.

"{__}! It's so good to see you!" I said with excitement.
"I'm so happy you're here!" He said.
We embraced
And I held my breath.

We talked. We caught up.
And while he talked I stared deeply into his eyes
And thought
"You used to love me."
"And I used to love you."

Midnight struck, and the crowd headed towards the local bar
But I decided to go home.
"Come with us!" He exclaimed.
But I shook my head, said my goodbyes, and began walking home.

On my way home, I thought
"What happened? What went down?"
"You used to love me. I used to love you."
"You were my friend. You were my best friend."
Tears streamed down my flustered cheeks.

"And now, we're nothing."