It's been a while. Been a while since I've seen the once familiar orange icon at the top of my screen light up as it awaits a new blog post. I could sound off a laundry list of excuses, each more valid than the last--but I'll spare you that. It's time for me to write once more, to dust off the keyboard and delve into the ideas that have long since been rattling my brain.
It's you. Because it's always you. And it always has to be you. Because you have no name, though as I write this I have one in mind. Yet when I read this almost time capsule of a piece in months to come, I might just remember who it is my wanderlust heart decided to follow in the moment my the publish button was pressed. The post might be published, but it's far from over.
Far from anywhere near comprehending all that you are to me, and all that I wish I could say. All the times I've come so close to a hug, but instead backed away.
This is a toast to you, the boy so different than me. The one that's making me dream that maybe one day we won't be. For I once chose boys I could fall apart with, so at least misery wouldn't have company. But I'm on an uphill swing, and it's obvious you are two. Our pasts don't align, maybe our futures don't either. But we have today.
We have tonight, so let's not waste it on words we know we'll never say. Just hold me close, and I promise we'll be okay.
Forget the future, ignore the past--because all we have is right now, and I want you here, with me. . .right now.
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