You put up another picture of you. It plunges me into a sea of memories of that lovely day. We were together, weren't we? Sitting in a boat, right next to each other, our orange life jackets on. Surrounded by friends, laughter, and adrenaline induced excitement.
It was your first time on a boat. And I told you it was my first time on a boat with you. You pass me a dismissive look and I laugh quietly. Because we know. That's how you are. And that's how I am. You're a logical reasoning and my words laced with fancy seasoning. My sugar doesn't work on you, it never has. I don't stop trying. I talk about the day I can manage to sweep you off your feet. By words alone.
I remember the loud, I remember the quiet. I had my hand in the sea. It was a deep blue, a hideous blue. Not like the sky, gentle and kind. The sound of our friends' voices, and the motor of the boat was not so loud anymore. I was focused on the sound of the waves, as if they had something to say to me. You ask me to pull my hand out and quit zoning off like that. I sigh. Because that's how you are. And that's how I am. You saw the boat tilted to my side because I was leaning down too much. I saw the colours and the beauty of nature and how it was calling me towards it. You're practical, I'm not. I'm emotional, you're not.
You talk about truths and facts. I talk about passion and art. I believe you more than I believe myself. And you listen to me like there's nothing else you'd rather be doing, right now. We're two different paths that converge a little too often. You don't smile a lot, but when you do it's from the heart.
You're careful, your words thoughtful. You exude an aura so calm, it engulfs anyone who's close to you. So when you tell me you like me, it's very hard to believe. I'm reckless, impractical, prioritise the unimportant, and ask the wrong questions. I'm an abstract, and you're a deliberate stroke on a canvas. You're on my 'someone-I-wish-I-could-be' list, so I do not understand how this can be.
I blink. You're saying you don't know which picture I'm talking about. I tell you it's your profile picture; your head turned away, shades on. You're smiling. And I wonder if it was I who made you smile or the camera.
