The Scrambled Philosophies That I Call Thoughts

Here's To You

I met this old woman about five weeks ago. I was at an eye doctor's appointment. Sitting in the waiting room, bored out of my mind like every other day. But this woman was there, and she greeted me. She was actually talking to people there. And being really nice to them, and she didn't even know them. We started up a conversation. She asked me what I was reading, because I had a book in hand (as always).
"Dangerous Creatures", I responded, "a continuation of the Beautiful Creatures series."
She was so cool for someone her age. I swear, she should have been on the Tonight Show, because her personality was that big. She lit up that entire room. She was like a grandma to me, and it felt like I'd known her for thirteen years-my whole life-more than thirteen seconds. I mean, we just clicked. I told her about how I loved to write poetry. She asked for me to recite one of my poems, and surprisingly, I recited "Even The Sky Cries Sometimes" to her (it's the only one written by me that I remember). She loved-or should I say loves-reading, too. I mean, she changed my entire mood. At the time, I was having severe writer's block, and I couldn't find inspiration for anything, but in 10 minutes, this woman changed my entire perspective on the world. Seriously,I was just going to sit there and read my book, and here she was talking to people. It blew my mind, because I bet that's what it was always like in the old days. I bet people actually talked to each other, and like, made friends. And I can't even explain how grateful I am to have met her. I mean, it's so amazing how you can just meet someone, and your whole world be turned upside down in a matter of seconds. We talked, and actually had a real conversation, just like old friends. I was going to write a poem about her, but I doubt that my counterintuitive prose could do any justice to her personality. And you know what she told me? She told me that she saw something in me-something that I sure can't see in myself, but something, nonetheless. She said that I was going somewhere in life; that she was certain of it. She said she used to be a high school teacher, and that she hadn't seen many people like me. I wanted to keep in touch with her; give her my phone number or something. She was like a grandmother to me, but I'd only known her for maybe, ten minutes. I thought it would be awkward, and that she might not have wanted to keep in touch. I know that's stupid, and it shouldn't have kept me from acting. But that's not how it works in the new age. We can't just go somewhere, and like, make a friend. And that makes me so sad, because it's a shame that it's that way, but it is. The second she left, I regretted not acting. I still do. But you know what's just pathetic? I don't even remember her full name. Patricia, something. That just shows how much we take for granted. I can't even remember the last name of the best person I've ever met. And I hope she reads this, one day. I pray that one day she gets on Wattpad and reads my book. I hope that happens; I hope with all my heart. And even if it does, I may never know. But the one thing I do know is that I'll never forget her. So if she's reading this: Here's to you. Here's to life. Here's to Dangerous Creatures, poetry, and love. "Here's to the words never ceasing".