Can you even hear my heart bouncing with me? A simple cry-out that I want to make my life count, that I fear being left out, forgotten. I speak up for attention, but am rejected, yet you lift me up with the simplest, weakest of compliments. Am I that obsessive and desperate? He's one of the reasons that I am who I am. That some of my tastes are what they are. But I shouldn't change for a guy, no matter how good the changes are. Yet I am incredibly grateful for such changes and I will never be able to thank him without owning up to the fact that I used to be such a little creeper...but weren't we all in 8th grade?
Oddly enough I still can burst with the excitement of a child. I have tons of energy given the right situation.
That name, those eyes lift me higher than the clouds. So near happiness--that which I yearn and strive for--a touch away, but it is a unreality that will never happen. Mainly because of history and a lack of history.
Do you understand?
My face has a warm glow like a new mother. My eyes are excited, wide, and full of wonder, an emotion bursting forth with the intensity of surprise and ecstasy as when you get an A on a difficult test you hadn't studied for. Mixed among other pleasant experiences.
My long forgotten cries rebirth with shame and I sigh, speaking, not in riddles, but what ifs? My childish appreciation has nourished into a full-out heartache that gives me hope for nothing but a glimmer, a wisp, a quick flash like a lightning strike or a shooting star where wishes take flight.
Finally. A connection. Though it remains severed.
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