thirty-two weeks since that honest evening you’ve heard me slowly silence, watched my brilliance burn out, and witnessed my lonely defeat. in fear, i compromised our vibrant dynamic. in fear, i compromised my physical being. in fear, i compromised everything i had. well, fuck that fear, my dear! i said, fuck it! do you hear me? now thirty-two years, but i don’t want to count anymore. i’ll stop to restore that vibe we had going, to restore my body’s strength, to restore everything i had. i have a choice, and i choose the possibility of you to help me fight this crazy fear, and win. i want you to see my colors shine, to hear the chime in my voice again, to witness my hard-won phoenix rising.
maybe i’m taking you too seriously. but you sure got a funny way of showing that you’re not. are you unwilling to admit to me that you like what your peers do? (or are you unwilling to admit to them that you don’t?) granted, i’m a toned-down version of myself around you, but are you someone else when you’re with me? who are you? i swear you were a different person a year ago. i’ve changed a lot, too, but no one’s asking, “where did you go?” let me ask you that. who are you, anyway? who are you trying to portray? i like who you are when we’re together, but technology lets me see that maybe you’re not always that way. (i’ll admit i’m a creep.) i want to know you, ‘cause i think we’re trying to be friends. so let me know: who are you?
excuse me while i get my act together.
( i fell apart a moment ago at the mere sight of your name )
why do i need a reason?
well i say no more whys
and no more reasons—
if we lived on Tralfamadore…
(we could be the spectacle in the zoo)
then everything would simply be.
and i could relive any moment in time,
that would always happen exactly as they did,
and i wouldn’t regret any of it.
i will always hold back from reaching you
but maybe there will be one time
when i will always talk to you.
( are you looking for the whys? are you looking for the reasons? )
i have a feeling you believe in free will as much as i do.
…so excuse me while i stop living in fiction.
because whether or not there’s predestination
i will keep biting my tongue.