Hey, You’re From The Middle of Nowhere?

That’s where you told me you were from. Just a sweet small town boy from up North.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I know, I know. People have constantly told me to get you out of my head but really, every time I try, I just can’t. It’s like there’s some divine power preventing me from doing so.

I remember when we met just like it was yesterday and not exactly one month ago. I still remember what it felt like when I met your warm eyes for the first time, and the beating of my heart picking up pace in my chest when you smiled at me, just a wingspan away.

For every country song that comes on, I get this sad feeling because it just reminds me of you, I don’t even know if you like country.

Sometimes, I’ll be driving somewhere and I get random chills and you come to mind. Good chills or bad, I couldn’t tell you.

Or when I see a big pickup like I always do going around here in Southern Texas, the memory of you arises from the depths of my murky, distorted mind.

You probably don’t remember me. But almost everything reminds me of you.

I can’t help but wonder, do you think of me every now and again? Was I something so different that I stood out from the crowd?

Or… was I exactly what you were looking for?

I find myself replaying that moment in my head, all the different things I could’ve said, all the things I could’ve done, still not accepting that I’ve done more than I thought I was capable of, still unforgiving of my shortcomings.

How simple it was to just… Hand over that little retangular sheet of plastic with writing on it that could shatter the power of fate, rattle the gravity of the Sun, crumble the universe and all universes surrounding us, throw the astronomical equilibrium into disarray, disturb the silence of time and space itself.

And yet… It’s still here, in my possession. A pathetic piece of printed plastic with scribbles of a dying permanent marker, stowed away somewhere in the back of my mind, underneath the rest of my unfinished dreams.

Sometimes, I dream that I’ll wake up one day with the Sun on my window and all the things I wondered, the things I was curious about the answers to, will be acknowledged and answered, that you’ll fill in the blanks in my sentences and in my life.

Maybe it’s a symbol of my fear that something good is meant to happen and it’s staring me in the face. Maybe I’m so scared that I’ll screw it up, the perfection I suddenly felt grappling my heart. Maybe my fear swallowed me whole, consumed my every particle, that someone, just someone, wanted something good with me.

Or maybe I’m just crazy and I need to sleep forever so I can see you again… And again and again and again…

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