i miss our long conversations.
i don't want the empty life that everyone seems to be chasing, including me.
i'm a romantic stuck in a pessimist's body. mind. with my own brand of of-kilter idealistic realism. i know it doesn't work really, but you tell me... "what the fuck does!?" and i know that i'm good to encounter. if you're aching and you really need someone to see you through to you. i'll stand there. and i'll do it, every time, almost. so don't tell me i'm naive when you're using me. when you're letting me help hold you up. not that you recognize it. always. but the you's here have switched several times so the you i started out talking to would never do what the last you does. and that's why i miss you. and the way you throw a real arm around my idealistic side because you love me and you see the good it does. even if we can't, neither of us, quite believe in it. perhaps i belong back there with you. when i was so keen to leave. i've never met anyone like you. or maybe i just really need us to stay in touch...
