2006-01-02

For You to Notice

This afternoon was only a reminder that the memories will fade with the setting sun. Boats danced in the distance, with masts reaching up into the sun and I shielded my eyes to look, and from my view, the world was gold and perfect and suddenly I wanted to write in my book. And if I could capture all moments and wrap them into a tiny glass ball, they’d all be pictures that look like this

Tales of the brokenhearted echo in the eternal wall of the beautiful, desperate and forgotten artists. The spotlight isn’t large enough for all of us, and we hide in the shadows, providing the definitive strokes to those who express our very ideas, only with different words.

I’m so lost in my own world. Memories surprise me and spring up with summer butterflies, providing bitter-sweet realizations of both glorious triumphs and mistakes.

It was two months ago, on a midnight that I lay awake staring up at the white ceiling, and my roommate lay on the bed in front of mine, reading me one of her poems. She’s got a poem for each one of my doubts.

I’ve been thinking of Dan lately…I will admit to that. And perhaps all these letters that I keep writing in my notebook are secretly for him. That’s odd…and marginally creepy—almost. But it’s a crush—I’ve got a crush. I’ve never stuttered in my life, save for when I spoke to him.

I dreamt about him the other night. I was gardening on a hazy midsummer afternoon—lilacs in my garden, and I had on a straw hat. I suddenly look up to the glimmering sunlight, and there he was, staring at me. His dirt-blond hair hung over his face, and I clearly saw his blue piercing…and suddenly, he waved and smiled.

Surprised, I walked toward him, taking off my hat:

Dan? I said.

I came by to give you this… He held up a red object that I couldn’t quite make out in my dream.

And I invited him into my house and we drank tea, and I saw his dark-blue eyes glance warmly at mine. We talked and giggled, casually talking about my crush on him. And he grabbed my hand and held it…and in that dream, I felt its warmth, and I didn’t want to let go.

I woke up slightly confused and disappointed that it was only a dream. But most things are, I suppose…sadly. I etched the golden sketch of possibility in my heart.

aeka at 6:40 p.m.