April 2017

Here we go again with my immature lovesickness. This is a super-anonymous blog that I wrote over a year ago (edited now for publication). Hope you enjoy (hope it isn't too depressing or disturbing).

I know it really isn't normal to feel this way at my age. I haven't felt this way about someone I don't know since I was a young teen, and I swore I never would again. I thought such "crushes" were stupid and a complete waste of my time that could be spent on looking for someone in my real world. But as it turned out, the love I gave to those in my real world was just about as much of a waste of my time. And what I didn't understand then is that when my heart really wants someone, it doesn't matter if that someone lives next door or 100,000,000 miles away.

I'm not sure why I address my poems to you. I know you will never see them, and if you did and somehow knew they were about you, you would be so freaked out that you'd truly be scared of me. Know that I would never, could never hurt you. You mean the world to me and I'd give anything to make you happy.

When I heard you sound-checking as I stood in line that day my knees quite literally buckled. My sister thought I was being dramatic. She doesn't understand how the simplest word you sing does me in.

And I'd give anything to see you smile at me once more. To see you run around that stage and move your equipment and be so preoccupied and so endearing all at once. My sister actually tried to talk to me while this was going on-as if somehow your mundane actions were any less special and mesmerizing than your performance.

I'm not like the other girls. Asking if you'll marry them and screaming that they love you. I come here instead. Because my feelings are so real that you'd know for certain how true they are if I begged you for any of those things. I'm afraid you felt it in my hug and when you leaned against me for a picture and when I gazed at you and that's why you keep your distance now. I'm an immature girl who can't let go of a love for someone she's barely met who lives far away and has the most beautiful voice that is the only cure for her nightly tears for him. How ironic.

Author's Note

Ignore grammar problems unless you notice something horrendous. This is really just an example of me writing my thoughts out online. I have a similar one about my career situation on my writerscafe blog, but I have no idea if anyone can see that. I don't consider this a poem, maybe a nonfiction short story if that was a genre.