nada, perhaps.

…because friendship and intimacy are subjective, and there isn’t a widely used scale researchers share to define those concepts across studies. Closeness can be particularly squishy. 

read more.

notorious.

We’re drawing stars on the skylight of your room, with our innocent fingers and you told me I was going to be a writer someday.

You said I was going to be a writer, and I was going to spend my lifetime writing you. I scoffed. Don’t flatter yourself, I said.

You laughed. Oh but you will, you said. But I would do it secretly, sneaking in memories like they were truths. But people hate truth. Exactly, you said mischievously.

For the rest of my life, you said, I am going to rely on you for that. My life would be so chaotic and disheveled because you know I am going to get notoriously famous that I can’t take it. As my life spins out of control, I’ll turn to your written words and find my way home…

pride.

I used to ride along the waves of uncertainty that was my mind, playing out scenarios where I would end up in places close enough to reality that it might actually happen. I could ride and ride for hours without any clear intention or purpose, no directions. A wishful thinking that’s so loud that it magnified every single thing I yearned for so the universe could make it come true.

See, I’m just a child inside, wishing all the good things come tumbling down on my lap and wanting all the bad things to go away. This thing I do keep me busy grinding on thoughts back and forth, back and forth. I would forget about them and fall asleep eventually. I would be dreaming or waking up, either way, I escaped being me for a little while.

And now it’s swirling around you. Just the second I was boarding a flight, I thought of you mindlessly. In my mind’s eye I saw you smile an infectious smile, laugh that infectious laugh. If only people say the things they want to say, and do things they want to do, maybe we won’t be here tangled in pride.

Who was too proud again?

a thing about you.

I looked at your face while you were sleeping and this habit of mine I could not seem to let go. You looked so peaceful and pretty. What is it about you that got me feel like I was coming home?

But this wasn’t real I knew. Once we’re out there, we’re out there.

If we’re a couple of peasants in the southern of France, I’d pick out berries with you and bake pies, bear your babies.

You opened half of your left eye and smiled. But you didn’t want to embarass me so you pretended to go back to sleep.

You’re just so sweet.

you were so handsome

from below

from above

so easy to love

you were so handsome

that last night

in that life

that wasn’t ours

Diana Perry