"Well, You're magic," he said

There is something so peculiar about how my mind arranges itself when I am just being me. There is something so puzzling about what seems logical and at times I more than suprise myself.

Why would I even think that there would be a gleam left in his heart or mind for me? Why would I think that he would still have any recognition of my tattered, full, life drawn face and desperate attempts to mask my weary heart with fine clothes and gorgeous shoes?

Why had I been so sure that he would not only recognize me this way, but call me to his heart and seat me to the right of his own life as he used to?

Why should my opinion and taste and thought process matter to him? Because I wanted it to? Because it always had before?

It is very difficult, this growing thing.

It is tedious and tempestuous and tricky and tumultuous. It takes time and tenderness and the banishment of all timidity.

I want to think differently than I ever have before. In some matters, I want to grab the bull by the horns and shake him with a reckoning force.

And, in all other aspects, I want to be able to stand still. To allow things to progress naturally. To watch change instead of wearying myself creating it, only to watch it fail and falter.

Do I want him to like me, or do I finally want to be free of him and his easy nature. His lassiez-faire approach to life and love. His quiet laughter and the curl of his lip and the small way he finds to remind me of myself in all situations and the way he builds me up, all while blushing in spite of hiimself. Do I finally have the freedom and the choice in my heart to move forward with my life, him withstanding?

No. I want him. I want him to like me and need me and rely on me, and miss me, and think of my when it rains for to curl up in bed and drink tea and when it's sunny to take day trips to the ocean, all while I choose the soundtrack and what jokes we make and what we do to become closer.

I want him. Especially for those times when I feel I need nothing and no one and I think I am independant of all life on earth. I need him much more acutely then when he always seems to shake me back into myself.

I want to be owned by his possesive insecurities.

I want to have fun with him. I want to be the one he calls when he is restless. When he wants for trouble, there I'll be. And we'll spend long hours driving around town before settling on leaving the trouble to those that know it well while we chicken out.

The thing I forgot to consider was: What might he want?

We are so utterly seperated by time and space and purpose and path and group. Perhaps he hates the thought of dragging me around where he goes, or worse of leaving me, pining an whining after him. Maybe he loves his single, unattached freedom to be where and when he wants. Maybe he just doesn't know what to say to me anymore.

So here I am with open arms. Hoping you'll see what your love and life and hapiness means to me.

Do you think he'll notice when I smile that I wish for him to tell me what to do and who to be?

Am I that girl that loves strangers and is fascinated by newness and needs to always be initiating relationships and shoving herself into peoples lives?

Or am I something new? Something refreshed? A quieter, more mysterious me with a shy way and a quick but unheard wit? A girl that people wonder about? Someone interesting and storied and rich with character?