I send text messages like it's an art form. Subtle, curious glances at a blinking light that comes not nearly enough, quick replies like fluid in my fingers. I am the new generation. I am the electronic daughter of a turntable and a symphony, the quiet-on-the-outside-until-someone-calls-my-name burst of energy who comes in like a thunderstorm and leaves like a gust of wind. I love like a wildfire, dance across life like a firefly, and drown myself in the quick distractions of a busy, lights-flashing-so-bright-it-hurts world.
I grab, reaching for bonds that aren't there, pull him underwater with me and clash with him like two hydrogen atoms, then burst apart in a flash of light. Love for me is an atom bomb. Love is an explosion. Love is quick encounters, kisses in the dark, passion in bright bursts that come and go as fast as lightning strikes the earth.
And, gods, I want him.
I cry to love him, sleep fitfully to think of him, and cannot desire for more than to run from him. I want to reach out, reach forward, reach into him, grab for something, nothing, anything that can promise me he will or won't lead to another broken promise.
Lips touching, pulling me down, leaving me screaming out for air because my air not oxygen, it's nothing but him and the scent of him and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me and
I
can't
breathe
My eyes keep flickering to the green light. I groan, and type another message.
I've got it so bad for this boy
I understand. Have you talked to him about it?
no way,,,, im a hot mess. he's too much for me, seriously
Young love.
seriously man don't do that I'm so frustratingly dependent rn
You love him.
do not
Do so.
I throw the phone down, pull a stuffed animal towards me, grumble to myself, and look for the flickering light. Nothing. No response. I press my palm to my forehead and return to music, but it isn't enough.
You love him.
do not
Like a symphony of lights and sounds knows how to love. She doesn't, I don't, not really, but I know how to reach, how to desire, how to drown myself with the semblence of a feeling. I wish I knew how to love, and I wouldn't mind if he taught me, but can I love now? After I loved that once and it was ripped from me? I don't know how. I don't remember.
he ****** me up, dude, i don't even know if this is love or if i'm trying to replace the feeling i had with you-know-who with someone else
I don't think so. He tried to ground you, and I don't think you really want to replace that
it's like risking true love for the safe option
"true love" What
I'm just saying... that's how i was with him really. it was love once but it distorted into more of a safety net
I guess. But you can love someone again, honey. You just have to figure out how
yeah i do. somehow. god help me
You can do it
unsent: maybe. or maybe im hopeless
It's easy to dream when you're lost. Hope is a powerful thing. They say I'm part of a generation lost in the glamour, but are we? Are we lost in the glamour, or are we losing ourselves in the flashing lights to avoid the reality of life, that stuff *****?
Maybe we'll figure out how to love again, or maybe they're right. Maybe I got lost in the glamour.
Maybe the wildfire will never go out, the wind will never stop, and the lights will keep flashing.
Maybe I'm hopeless.
dawn's wishful thinking
