Sometimes I get ****** into thinking about the past.
Mostly about you.
And how there are no words to describe what we had,
because we never spoke about it.
We talked about how we didn’t talk about it.
And even when things kept progressing, we still never really talked.
Part of me misses you, but I don’t miss that.

I start to look back and realize that you really were my best friend that year.
Heck, my only friend.
But then I have to remember that I was miserable and sad.
I was so unhappy with my life and how things were going.
And even though I had you, I didn’t really have you, because I never knew your mind.
I thought I did, at times, but I always knew there was much more.

I was young then.
Only a year younger than I am now, but it makes all the difference.
Or maybe just the experience has taught me to grow.
Either way, when I look back…
I just see two silly adolescents,
looking for something neither of us could ever completely find in each other.

You intimidated me, you scared me, but you were also the only comfort I had.
I didn’t know what to say to you, what to ask, what to talk about.
When I think about it, I don’t think you knew what to do either.
It’s like, we were both the mysterious type, the ones that people are drawn to.
But when you put us together,
we just waited for the other one to try to figure us out.

Maybe, though, we were also afraid we’d get too attached.
To find out we really had the world in common and then- nothing.
Only to end up hours and miles away.
We knew that’s how it would all end anyways.

I don’t know, this is all from my perspective.
Part of me wishes I had the confidence then, that I do now.
Part of me wishes I would have tried harder to open up with you.
But most of me knows I just couldn’t back then.
And realistically, most of me is glad I don’t have the conversations, too,
to remember you by.