I’ll try and focus my attention on writing about someone else.
Someone that is not you,
Someone that listens,
Someone who remembers,
An actual golden retriever, the closest thing to a real-life Ted Lasso.
Someone completely unavailable, though, but for whom I care very deeply.
And the thing is, I don’t quite care whether he is available or not, I am pretty capable of appreciateing his kindness just from afar. Intimately but not intimately.
Intimate enough to talk about anything, to appreciate the silence, to let the days go.
Intimate enough to carefully curate the memes I will send him, and to inadvertently perceive he is curating mine’s too.
Intimate as to not really worry of whether his opinion of me will change as we dig deeper into each other.
Just a couple of pals,
A fun lad.
An educated lad, someone I would never say was raised by the monkeys,
Someone I would call if my tire were ever flat and I am left stranded in the middle of nowhere,
Someone I know I won’t call when my tire eventually flattens because I won’t dare to
A respectful lad.
For you, there’s not much more to say,
I miss you occasionally, you are still stopping me from moving on from you, and it’s not you,
It’s just the memories,
The life we didn’t get to live.
And the half-living this life vicariously next to someone who is also expecting me to listen,
Someone who expects me to remember,
Someone for whom I am also
A fun lad.
I will proceed now to lay low, to care for our friendship,
So our intimacy doesn’t surpass the limits we know made us work.
So we can still blow off some steam by the end of the year by just consuming the most unhinged Tik Tok vids.
I have chosen you, but it quite seems like someone else chose you not, but him.