In Retrospect

April 22, 2017

I don’t know you. I don’t know your name. I don’t know what your story is.

But I know where you’re from, where you’ve been—you told me.

I want to show you what it’s like here, how the weather is actually crazy here, that it’s not just us being dramatic, how there are parts of this city where people do drive obnoxiously large pickups. I want to show you my favorite burger joint, my favorite place to grab a coke float, the playground where I learned that I ran faster than the future track star at my school. I want to show you my progression in learning new songs on the piano and tell you about how my first recital years ago was held at a Chinese temple. I want to introduce you to the most incredible people I’ve ever known, show you the writings I’m working on, have you critique what I have thus far.

I want to know more about you. I want to know your story. I want to learn what goes through your head every day. I want to know what it’s like where you are, what’s the weather like, do you like snow? I want to know how your day was, if you’ve had any cool dreams lately, if you’ve met anyone inspiring recently. I want to read between the lines in your words. I want to see what drives you, what your favorite diner is, what it felt like to be at the game when the Royals won the World Series. I want to know you.

Will I ever know if you feel the same way?


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