I Never Write To You Because

26 Jan

I never daydream about you, because you don’t make me feel all tingly and warm. My stomach doesn’t flip over when I think about some cute thing that you told me. I don’t generally care how you think I look. It’s not that you mind the way I look, it’s just that when you comment on it- and even sometimes say nice things- it doesn’t feel all nice and fuzzy. Like, exciting! I just take whatever it is you said and try to factor it into my routine when I want to look nice. I trust you, after all. You have good taste.

I never write about you because you’re simple. There isn’t a whole lot to figure out. With other people, I wonder if they really like me. How much? But I know you like me. You tell me so. When I don’t see you and talk to you for a week, you tell me in your whiny voice that you miss me. I miss you too, and my brain is whining at me because of it. And I whine that back. And then I feel like we’re set, because at that point I’m blocking off part of my weekend so that we can goof off together. Because I like you. I love you. I’m sure about that, and I know exactly what it means. So I don’t write about you, because there isn’t much to write about.

I never write you letters because there’s nothing I can’t tell you in words. With other people I wonder how well they will take whatever it is that I have to say. I worry that as soon as I’m around them my legs will get all wobbly and my brain will get all fuzzy, and I’ll forget what exactly it was that I wanted to say. But with you, I’ll just say whatever it is I wanted to say and then you’ll say what you think of it, and then we’ll go on with our lives. So there’s no point, really, in writing it out in a letter.

I never tell you in great, complex detail, how much you mean to me. I don’t really think of it, because there rarely is a time where you do something and automatically a huge part of my life changes. You came into my life so slowly. So simply. And there was never really any one time for me to notice what was changing.

But let me tell you, if only just this once, how much I love you. I guess you probably don’t remember that sometimes, because I don’t daydream about you, or write about you. I don’t send you letters, and I rarely make a big deal of saying I love you. But goddammit, I do love you. You helped me to understand what it means to be happy. I’ll be happy even when we go off to college, even when you’re not there, because you taught me how. And even in this strange world of highschool romance, my favorite dance will always be Mardi Gras last year, because we ignored everyone else and made each other laugh until we cried.

Although sometimes I don’t even notice that you’re right by me, I notice when you’re not. When I look over to your seat in Choir, and there’s nobody there who’s thinking the same thing as me. You have become like air to me. You don’t think a lot about how much you need it, but without it, you die.


2 Responses to “I Never Write To You Because”

  1. Colleen February 26, 2014 at 1:22 am #

    This made me think of my best friend, and casually, all the same things apply. Thank you

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