I wonder how the stars feel
Hidden from the world’s gaze
Because of millions of headlights
That scream life is better here.
I wonder if they feel ignored
If they feel neglected
Billions of years perfecting an elaborate canvas
That almost no one can see
And assigned simple names like Big Dipper
I wonder if they feel undervalued
Misunderstood by the host of primates they shine for
Who use them in songs as an afterthought to describe “the sparkle of her eyes”
But surely in their age they’ve acquired wisdom
They’ve seen many come and go and win and lose and live and die
I would ask what the answer is, the best way to live on this tiny blue dot
And then I would tell them that their work is appreciated
last chance to be young and irresponsible
and i spend it in these maze of stacks
called the library but the funny thing is
it’s the social hub, the watering hole
of this tree-lined, gravel-roaded, keg-filled
place called rice
i’ve flipped through these pages
weaved through the shelves
splinted broken joints and bones
avoided the gazes of the 6’2” tarzan/jesus/christopher mccandless boy
to find you
whose life is a childish gambino song
who is forever feverish, addicted to energy
who talks in a drawl, texts in an accent
who doesn’t know what to do, but it still feels right
three days in a row seems too good not to be a sign
and since these are the final days
i’ll take it as one
That’s all I saw of you today. A flash of yellow. Headphones. A much different picture from 24 hours prior.
How am I different, you asked. From the guys before, the guys that would come after. And you are right. You aren’t. Not in the way we have allowed this to become.
I honestly couldn’t recall more than a few sentences of what you said last night, but somewhere in between it all made sense. It surprised me—I’ve never had one of those moments before— and I could tell it surprised you too.
Perhaps it was just that we finally took some time to speak from the heart, and not the usual places. But in a few words, you effectively summed up my entire year and showed me who I am now. It was helpful. It was necessary.
Just a few glimpses were enough to activate a sympathetic nervous system response today. But maybe that’s just because I’ve conditioned myself to this. I may not know you very well yet, but thank you for helping reintroduce myself to me. I look forward to getting to know you too. Let’s start over with glimpses.
If my 11 year old self had to guess what you’d be like,
She would have been states, countries, continents off mark.
If 11 year old me were to hear that she’d one day meet
Someone who loved McDonald’s more she wouldn’t believe it.
If my 11 year old self had seen your name written on a piece of paper,
It would have stumped her Hooked On Phonics skills as it stumps mine still.
But funny how if my 11 year old self were to show this ancient 19 year old
That silly list she made of her perfect boy
It’d be check marks all the way down.
(Source: larmoyante, via alderaaan)
