Colors and carbs

I know it probably doesn't matter at this point, but I want you to know that a lot of what I write is for you.

I know that you like someone else, so what I feel for you doesn't really come into play, but you should know that when I think of you, I see the color yellow. Maybe it's because I see light when I'm with you. Maybe it's because you're blonde or maybe it's because your eyes are the color of leaves in late summer and the summer always seems yellow to me.

I know you're going to leave. You'll leave me for two years and I won't have anyone that will take me to Panda on a Tuesday night because I want some won tons/rangoons or whatever the hell you want to call them because they're fried and cream cheese heaven and also I don't want to study for calculus. You're going to go preach in Peru or something (I guess we'll find out soon enough), and I'll be here trying not to rip out my hair from the frustration of being alone. I know, I know. I won't really be alone. Just don't play the God card on me, because he and I aren't really on speaking terms right now.

You're leaving to teach a gospel I only half believe anymore, and I know that that doesn't really matter because I'm not the one going on a mission so it isn't really a problem. Honestly, though, I don't even know if I can call what I have belief because I'm pretty sure there needs to be a conviction behind it and I don't really have that. My belief in the emotional healing power of carbohydrates is stronger than my belief in the church. The fact that I find more truth in an Asiago bagel than the church that I was raised in indicates a problem, especially because there will probably be more prayer at BYU than bagels.

And you're leaving me to tell others how true you think it is.

Yeah, it's probably good, but when you come back, you're probably going to try to tell me to turn off the TV because television is the devil just like Vicky Valencourt and foozball and I'll laugh in your face and press the power button just to annoy you.

I don't know what I'm trying to say, but I guess it's promising that you didn't tell me to change the song when "Little Lion Man" came on in my car.

I was born with a pen in my back pocket, and that pen works so furiously that it just needs a break, but the words flow when I think about you and cheesy love songs come out of my heart when I'm around you and I'm trying to keep them from coming out of my mouth while I also try to discourage you from reading my blog because, obviously, nothing good could come of that.

I guess I'm trying to say that I'll miss you, and I won't even have this summer with you because I move into the dorms the day after my sister's wedding in June and I just hope you come down to visit me, because Provo will be really lonely without you.

I won't have anyone that will go get Slurpees with me on a weekday just because they have the same emotional healing properties as bagels, but you'll probably never know why I need the emotional healing, because I can't tell you that you're the reason.

You're always the reason.

The reason I've written all these poems.

The reason I've kept my eyes dry since I found out, because if I let one tear escape, I'll be sobbing over you and I've been told that no boy is worth my tears but I still wonder if you are. I wonder if you are the only exception and I wonder if I'll sing that song to you someday, and I probably already have, because I sing a lot of songs to you, but it's usually just us pretending to be in love but I'm not actually pretending anymore. Some want to see their name in lights, but I like seeing mine on your lips.

And maybe this is a premature goodbye.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know myself anymore, so maybe this is a goodbye both to you and to the me that I am when I'm with you because I'm happier and while I usually associate myself with dark blues like navy and royal, with you I feel like the color of the ocean on a sunny day, because you're still that bright, burning circle in the sky bringing new life and I hope you're reflecting onto me because the light hurts my eyes but the pain feels better than the sand between my toes,

and I guess that explains most of my feelings towards you.


--Erin