Jul 2014
/You/. n: The radiation that makes me Superhuman.
/You/ n: The very kiss that will turn me into a Prince.
Without /you/... I'm nothing more than Superman eating krypotine corn flakes in his Spiderman boxers; Powerless and lazy. Contradicting.
Without /you/... I am an ugly toad hopping across the laps of queens and witches alike. Inconfident, hopping around aimlessly. Searching for /you/. only /you/.
I can't do this without you; The writing more specifically. Not unless I'm inspired by you. I've never even thought about writing before /you./ Now, It never ceases to amaze me how the thought of /you/ can fill a page so quickly.
What do I do? How do I even begin to write. Just out of the blue...
Well, I could write something not related to you for once. Yeah, I could write a poem about the edge of the world; about standing on the highest cliff, over hanging the most vast of oceans. Watching the sun dip beneath the waves. I'll describe in painstaking detail how the orange-pink hue of the sunset bleeds into a purple night sky. How the stars begin to reveal themselves as the softest breeze carries a flurry of softer, light-pink cherry blossoms petals across the open air. Yes, fireworks boom off in the distance! Flashing, strobing colors. Vibrant greens, reds and neon blues light up the sky falling perfectly in different formations. Id finnish the 18th paragraph, then elegantly rip the page to shreds. /You./ You're still more beautiful than that.
Alright... what do I /want/ to write about then? Hm. I... I want to write about how I will wait for you to be over him. I want to write about how I know we'll fall in love again. Im not just hopeful... I just somehow know it. My heart tells me so. I know I haven't done much listening to it, however, that's all the more reason to make up for my stubborness. More reason for my confidence. My persistance. What else...? Well.
I want to tell you again and again how much I love you --how much even thinking the those three words shortens the air in my lungs. I love you. Imagining, me telling you in person, it makes me weak. I love /you./ I want to write about getting carried away and saying it over and over and over and over again. /I love you./ making up for the wasted time I spent pretending to love someone else.
How can I look myself in the mirror, and judge myself for feeling this way. Am I mot mentally well? A pair of dark, contemplating eyes stare back into themselves. I talk, and they answer:
"Excessive much?" Of course. "A bit Obsessive don't you think?" No doubt. No, no, no, ot doesnt go that way. I talk to myself all the time --we have an understanding. It's been concluded that I am excessively, obsessively, over expressively in love with /you./ and we're okay with that.
I want to write about all of the women who will never be /you./ about how I am helpless to love you, even if you still love him. I want to write the most descriptive literary illustration of my love for you. I want to write your name on my shoe in permanent marker over and over and over again so it never fades. I want to write Daft Punk lyrics all over my notebook. "It might not be the right time, I may not be right one."
I want to keep going and going and fill up the pages with my various, complicated expressions. I want to put this song on repeat. "but there's something about us I've got to say, because there's something between us anyway."
I want to stop writing and start whispering in your ear, the lyrics that so simply say everything "I love /you/ more than anything in my life, I love /you/ more than anyone in my life."
I want to press stop and bitterly toss the CD into the closet, frisbee style.
Nothing could ever express this.
Not even two Grammy award winning robots programmed to feel the strongest of emotions. It has to come from me.
I love /you./
I want /you./
No one else but /you./
I won't settle for less.
I won't settle for less.
Nothing less than /you./
No. It doesn't come close. I have to stop here with the realization that this does me and my feelings no justice at all.
/You/ n: The very kiss that will turn me into a Prince.
Without /you/... I'm nothing more than Superman eating krypotine corn flakes in his Spiderman boxers; Powerless and lazy. Contradicting.
Without /you/... I am an ugly toad hopping across the laps of queens and witches alike. Inconfident, hopping around aimlessly. Searching for /you/. only /you/.
I can't do this without you; The writing more specifically. Not unless I'm inspired by you. I've never even thought about writing before /you./ Now, It never ceases to amaze me how the thought of /you/ can fill a page so quickly.
What do I do? How do I even begin to write. Just out of the blue...
Well, I could write something not related to you for once. Yeah, I could write a poem about the edge of the world; about standing on the highest cliff, over hanging the most vast of oceans. Watching the sun dip beneath the waves. I'll describe in painstaking detail how the orange-pink hue of the sunset bleeds into a purple night sky. How the stars begin to reveal themselves as the softest breeze carries a flurry of softer, light-pink cherry blossoms petals across the open air. Yes, fireworks boom off in the distance! Flashing, strobing colors. Vibrant greens, reds and neon blues light up the sky falling perfectly in different formations. Id finnish the 18th paragraph, then elegantly rip the page to shreds. /You./ You're still more beautiful than that.
Alright... what do I /want/ to write about then? Hm. I... I want to write about how I will wait for you to be over him. I want to write about how I know we'll fall in love again. Im not just hopeful... I just somehow know it. My heart tells me so. I know I haven't done much listening to it, however, that's all the more reason to make up for my stubborness. More reason for my confidence. My persistance. What else...? Well.
I want to tell you again and again how much I love you --how much even thinking the those three words shortens the air in my lungs. I love you. Imagining, me telling you in person, it makes me weak. I love /you./ I want to write about getting carried away and saying it over and over and over and over again. /I love you./ making up for the wasted time I spent pretending to love someone else.
How can I look myself in the mirror, and judge myself for feeling this way. Am I mot mentally well? A pair of dark, contemplating eyes stare back into themselves. I talk, and they answer:
"Excessive much?" Of course. "A bit Obsessive don't you think?" No doubt. No, no, no, ot doesnt go that way. I talk to myself all the time --we have an understanding. It's been concluded that I am excessively, obsessively, over expressively in love with /you./ and we're okay with that.
I want to write about all of the women who will never be /you./ about how I am helpless to love you, even if you still love him. I want to write the most descriptive literary illustration of my love for you. I want to write your name on my shoe in permanent marker over and over and over again so it never fades. I want to write Daft Punk lyrics all over my notebook. "It might not be the right time, I may not be right one."
I want to keep going and going and fill up the pages with my various, complicated expressions. I want to put this song on repeat. "but there's something about us I've got to say, because there's something between us anyway."
I want to stop writing and start whispering in your ear, the lyrics that so simply say everything "I love /you/ more than anything in my life, I love /you/ more than anyone in my life."
I want to press stop and bitterly toss the CD into the closet, frisbee style.
Nothing could ever express this.
Not even two Grammy award winning robots programmed to feel the strongest of emotions. It has to come from me.
I love /you./
I want /you./
No one else but /you./
I won't settle for less.
I won't settle for less.
Nothing less than /you./
No. It doesn't come close. I have to stop here with the realization that this does me and my feelings no justice at all.
