i was so worried about seeing you tonight. something in my heart was telling me to cancel last minute, but something else told me not to. don't do it. or do it? that was the question.
it was too late and you were suddenly in a car, driving to my house, where i was panicking about whether to wear my boots or converse. dumb thing to internally panic about, but when i wear my boots i can stand a bit taller, a little less distance for me to look at you.
and suddenly, my mum called me downstairs and we left for the evening, my dog causing havoc behind us. we shared a laugh and walked to the funfair, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
the funfair is something that holds a sweet sense of nostalgia for me. i love the funfair, even if it gets smaller every year, even if the rides aren't fun anymore, even if the prices rise too high. i still love the funfair.
it's nostalgia. i remember when i was younger, so naive to the world, my uncle took me to the funfair. the sun glistened on us as i ran between rides, my favourite being the ferrous wheel that spun so quickly i couldn't see for a minute. my uncle laughed when i pestered for him to play the darts. if you won you got a goldfish.
a real goldfish. their scales shone in my eyes as you threw one, another, and another until the lady at the stall was handing you a bag with a fish inside. my own little golden treasure.
the funfair is filled with memories. i wanted to share them with you tonight.
we didn't realise two of my friends were there. i got whisked away and went on a ride with them, one of my favourites. it was fun, really fun, but i could just about see you sat on a bench by the sea, waiting for me to come back.
i did come back and we walked around the funfair for a little bit. you won a teddy on the shooting game after i said you wouldn't win. you didn't win the throwing game though, i was right about that.
soon, the funfair grew too busy, too empty. there were too many people, but not enough to do.
we left the funfair and i whispered my goodbyes to it. it will be another year until i can go again. i wish the funfair was bigger, maybe more like how i remember it from my childhood. it was so gorgeous back then.
the sun still hadn't set so we went to the arcade. i guess video games are both a passion of ours. the walking dead game is my favourite, i hold the high score, pretty proud of that. you smiled and said you would beat me. you didn't.
then halo, you won that one but only barely, by one kill. still didn't stop you from laughing at my disappointed face and trying to cheer me up. next was guitar hero, a game that we both were terrible at, but it made us laugh none the less.
the arcade is an interesting one. it's in the pier, which means it ends with a walkway. i guess i could call it a walkway anyway. it was peaceful, just the two of us stood above the sea, looking at the view. i always have loved the sea. it reminds me that my uncle is always there.
we bought doughnuts and sat on the pier, talking and looking at the sea. the sun went down and i couldn't stop watching it. and then we were back inside playing more arcade games. something about them is so fun, so addicting. or maybe it's you.
our time was up, it was getting late and we headed to my house. you came inside for a bit whilst you waited to get picked up. i wish we didn't have to leave the arcade. or the funfair.
how can an hour seem so short with you?
thank you for tonight. i looked up at you and smiled before you left, tempted to grab the hat off of your head and ruffle your hair. i guess im still a child at heart.
time is something that you can never get back. once it's gone, it's gone. time is but a fleeting moment that we can only hope but grasp onto.
i'm glad i wasted my time with you.
