Triangles

by Jason

Like, most days I think about how I wish you would write me a message every day, about how I wish you’d buy a plane ticket, how I wish you’d write me letters, maybe make a mixed tape and send it to me, and then maybe send a tape player as an after thought when you realized I didn’t have one, and maybe write some silly poems, or like write a song with some instrument about how you miss me, and maybe you’d blow off your homework and get a bad grade on a test just because you needed to Skype with me, but like, you don’t do those things.  And like, it is silly to expect that from you because you have every right to be responsible and focus on your success.  But honestly, most of the time, I just wish that you were a little obsessed with me. . . because that is how I want to be with you.

And so, she is all those things.  And she would do most of the things I just mentioned.  And maybe the mixed tape is a bit much to ask anyway, but sending a song via YouTube every now and again is pretty damn close in this modern day.  And maybe I should be satisfied.  Not maybe, I should be because she does everything the way I say I want it done.  But at the end of the day, it doesn’t change what I think.  It doesn’t change the things I think every day.

It is confusing. Love. And I don’t understand why it can’t just be straightforward and why I can’t get my mind around what really makes sense.  Because quality is perhaps better than obsession but obsession should be mutual, not one sided.  And so maybe all of this is really just a fucked up triangle, one that I drew with my own tiny pencil.

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