Please May This Not Be

Her Mind Is An Unquiet One, Words And Thoughts And Impulses Constantly Crashing Into Each Other.

With Some People ,the Minute You Start Talking, It Feels Like You've Known Them For Years. It Only Means That You Were Supposed To Meet Sooner. You're Feeling All The Time You Should Have Known Each Other, But Didn't. That Time Still Counts. You Can Definitely Feel It.

In School, The Year Was The Marker. Fifth Grade. Senior Year Of High School. Sophomore Year Of College. Then After, The Jobs Were The Marker. That Office. This Desk. But Now That School Is Over And I've Been Working At The Same Place In The Same Office At The Same Desk For Longer Than I Can Truly Believe, I Realize: You Have Become The Marker. This Is Your Era. And It's Only If It Goes On And On That Will Have To Look For Other Ways To Identify The Time.

Luckily, Tiny Texts Me Every Five Minutes Or So. I Don't Know How He Does It Without Getting Caught In Class. Maybe He Hides The Phone In The Folds Of His Stomach Or Something.

I Am Learning That A Life Isn't Real Unless Someone Else Knows Its Reality. And I Want My Life To Be Real.