That girl you wish I was

I’m not going to be that girl you wish I was.. the one who you can call up at 2:22 am because you want to make someone else wonder why your phone’s busy. I’m not going to be that girl who holds your hand in secret but lets go as soon as she walks in. I’m not going to ignore you in a crowd of hundred if you haven’t ignored me when I was alone. I’m not going to be that shelved book that you can borrow when you want to look busy and put back up on the shelf when no one’s looking. I’m not going to be the girl you need to look out for because I’m not going to be hiding behind one of your shadows. I’d rather be running away from all your shadows, for what it’s worth.. I’m not going to be the girl who’d make small talk or give you directions to a place you know already. I’ll be here, and I’ll be gone before you know it… and I know you’re probably not going to even notice or know, but if you do take this from me- I thought you were the kind of person I wished you were before I realized that I didn’t want to be the kind of girl you wished I was.


You never told me about her, but you didn’t have to. I knew when the songs played, and I knew in the way you looked so often into the distance that she was the only person in the world who could erase that vacant brown in your eyes. I watched you, time and time again, kicking pebbles on the ground, picking up arguments where there were none but walking away from the fights… and when I asked you why, you pretended not to hear me. She was indeed your sunshine, but you were a rainstorm.. and the best you could  be together was a rainbow in a world that saw in black and white.

174 times

I loved you 174 times and you loved her 175 times. That’s the bit to the equation that doesn’t equal at all, where mathematics cannot explain how differences aren’t mere stepping stones, but sometimes downfalls too. This is the part where physics doesn’t explain how love is a stronger force than inertia sometimes. You are the chemistry lesson I skipped because I knew even before I met you that whatever it was that was going to grow between us was going to be stronger than any ionic or covalent bond ever recorded. I knew your world was so vast that binary numbers could never describe you, but how did you fall in love with someone whose beginnings started with the ends of a QWERTY keyboard? I loved even numbers and you loved odd ones, and for you I turned myself into raindrops on summer nights, a consonant between all the vowels you loved, a water colour on a pastel painting, and I still wasn’t odd enough to chase after a past you were trying to forget, like she did. 174 wasn’t odd enough a number to you, and I’ll never be even either.


You told me you’ve never met anyone like me before as you drew stick figures on ruled paper. You made no promises but you painted the world for me, and how was I to tell you that I’ve never met someone like you either without paraphrasing you? You looked up at a sky you couldn’t see and told me how some secrets were too heavy for the clouds to hold. Your words were well-spotted spaceships flying on a cloudless summer sky that I mistook for shooting stars instead. I was certain you were talking about me, painting the world my favorite colours and throwing darts into the night sky, but… you weren’t at all. You were only talking about yourself, dusting the silhouette of me from your world and marking all the memories that looked too much like me. You told me I held the world in my palms, but I realized you sounded just like someone else- someone who watched the world slip between my fingers and laughed so loud that I didn’t hear myself cry. You’re the irony of a sentence I try to avoid but end up writing about anyway.