I know I’m not the first twenty-something to go through this sort of experience. To have someone roll their eyes, shake their head, or chastise you via social media because you’re just that—a twenty-something—and thus you apparently know nothing about life.
It’s not because you’re lazy, or forgetful, or made a mistake. It’s because you overlooked this little thing. Which builds into bigger things, which suddenly becomes an attitude of nonchalance.
When you’re in love, things change. You start having new desires, less-selfish desires, desires that you create and build and believe in together. And it’s even better than when you were alone, even better than you both imagined. I know this. And I know there’s nothing wrong with this, but I just don’t want it right now.
You are the soil beneath my feet,
the ground I’ve walked on, the roads
I’ve traveled, West Coast to Midwest.
I’m here.
“Ugh…can I take a nap first?”
He kisses his world onto my lips,
gently, sweetly, as if kissing back all past mistakes.
As if pulling me back into his heart.
You have a voice. A beautiful voice, a unique voice, a strange and wonderful voice that is your own. No one else’s. Why do you hide it?
You’ll feel something nagging, something pulling
and you’ll be reminded of all the ways you loved me, love me still.
I trace the stitches of her leather couch, imagine myself in this other life. Would I be happy here? But as much as I try to imagine myself there, I can’t.