Florence and the Machine is loud in my ears. Not because I want to tune out the world, but the pedestrian mall is particularly crowded for a Wednesday morning. And I need to breathe.
I spent the small bit of night I actually dedicated to sleep in a deep, dreamless coma–from which waking was not easy. I took the time last night to pour my feelings out into a message and with every apprehension I have built around expressing myself to others–oddly enough, despite being a writer–it was cleansing. And I slept; I was revived.
Two years ago, I spent some of my flaky time with a boy who would not understand what a connection between two people is if it bit him in the ass. I was just wasting time. It was a vain attempt at trying to find worth somewhere. But there was nothing to gain, and all of that time is now lost to pages in a diary I ripped up and scratched out. When I tried to express myself to him, I was shut down by a shallow wall of concave vanity. And he was not the first to act so coldly to me. So, I shut off.
Last year, I was left believing I would yet again be without someone to turn to in my times of overwhelming despair. In all honesty, I was fine with this. I hated the idea of having to divide my time or really be responsible for my actions or for another. I had spent so much time to myself, even when the aforementioned sat like stone next to me, I did not really know anything else. And then it happened: someone came along.
At first, he was just a guy I was getting to know. And past experience taught me not to be hopeful. But he stole me. And now I find myself frustrated, more than anything else–frustrated that I did not find him sooner. With him, I see the world differently. He is my constant inspiration–a reason to be better than the pathetic excuse I have been, lacking in any self-worth. He made that person in the mirror seem a little less hideous, and gave me one more thing for which to live.
And when I express myself, I am not stupid. I am his world. He makes me feel like somebody. Somebody with real words worth being heard.
When I wake up in the morning, I am someone’s love. It makes this dull life full of academia and away from home-ness less dreary. When I am with him, I am home.