I Want To Tell You

17 Apr

I want to tell you, I feel hung up but I don’t know why.

I want to tell you that you don’t make me sad, except when you’re sad. I’m okay with you never talking to me, but when I see your tweets and Facebook statuses, they frustrate me.

I want to tell you that it’s normal how you feel like you understand so little. I feel it too. I’m not really sure about anything most of the time. Most of the time, I’m not really sure how I feel about you, or why. But I know that I like you. I’m sure of that. I know that sometimes you’re angry, due to people. I wish I could fix it, but I can’t. The worst of it, though, is when you question yourself.

I want to tell you that the song you wrote last spring is on my list of 163 favorite songs of all time, ever. It’s right between The Hardest Part and Fake Plastic Trees. I used to feel wrong listening to it at all, because it’s not for me (also, don’t be too creeped out; it’s really easy to get those things onto iTunes). Just lately, it’s been different. Just lately, I’ve started understanding that the things I feel when listening to it have nothing to do with knowing you, or you at all. It’s beautiful because it’s so honest, it’s so true. It reaches an understanding of something no other song in the world does. It makes me feel all of the things that you must have been feeling. It’s sort of lonely, confusing and terrifying, but it’s so beautiful. That fact that you can write things like that amazes me. I mean, it actually blows my mind.

I want to tell you that I understand something about making music now. I don’t know if I could ever do it because you have to put way too much out there to make people feel that way. It’s scary. Like, really scary. I think it’s worth it though, and I think (I hope) that you do too. That must have been why you gave a song like that to just the general… world. I think I understand a little better now, partially because of this blog. There are things I never wanted people to know on this thing (like this!), but there is another part of me that wants people to know them. I want people to understand, and most of the time that part wins out. I usually feel better when it does.

I want to tell you that as a human, I have a very hard time doing anything for entirely selfless reasons. But I tried to write this for you. I’m not writing this for me, or for you and me. You and me is not even a thing in any sense at all, and maybe I should also add that I don’t even want it to be. That’s not the point. I’m just writing this for you.

I want to tell you that meeting you changed the way I saw the world. A big part of that is just coincidence, but the fact still stands. Here’s why; you were the first person I saw (or maybe just the first person I noticed) really trying to follow their dreams. You made me want to do the same thing. It’s not just you. I don’t want to over-dramatize this or make you think you are my whole life. But this has been a domino-effect kind of thing. I want to follow my dreams. They’re not your dreams (hell, they’re not even close), but sometimes I think they’re just as out-there and crazy. Day after day, I try to charge forward. The background of my computer even reads “The best you can is good enough, go confidently in the direction of your dreams.” It’s Radiohead/Thoreau, and I read it a hundred times a day. I believe it. Thanks.

Mostly, I want to tell you that you are good enough. You’re good enough to make beautiful music, to write things that no one else could write. I want you to succeed because I believe you can, and I believe you deserve to. But even more than wanting you to succeed, I want you to try. Because the best you can is good enough. It always will be.


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