You are your smile, your laugh, your sadness, and your secrets. You are your eyes, your lips, your face, and the wildly curly hair that frames it. You are the many things I do know. You are the many things I don't.
Why do you mean so much to me? You're just a person. There's so many on this planet, so many in this country, so many in this state, so many in this city... Out of the seven billion plus people on this planet. There's only one of you. What are the chances? Why you?
Human nature, perhaps. Always partaking in the game of chase, only to take a face-first dive into a hole that we can't get out of. Soon it becomes lonely. Soon we crave attention. Soon the madness unravels in our minds. Soon we not only want this person, we need this person in our lives, and we'd do anything to make it happen. But more often than not this person is playing the same game to win the attention of another, not yourself... What a silly game it is!
What am I to you? I am a scared little girl, hiding behind the blonde hair that forms a shield in front of her eyes. I am the mess of my art, the mess of my mind. I am my insecurities.
Or perhaps I am just that to myself. Perhaps I am just that to those have dug deep enough to find me. To you I could be nothing, just another person in the crowd.
I could have been something to you once.
Once, I was. I did linger in the back of your mind, you did wonder who I really was, you did try to figure me out. But just as I had to face this, at one point, you did too. The one you were thinking of wasn't me.
I was just a nameless being who liked you. I could've been anyone. I could've been a tall, beautiful girl with hazel eyes that'd sweep you off your feet, that you'd follow wherever she'd lead you. I could've been a cute, timid girl with long brown hair with strands you'd tuck behind her ear when it's windy out. I could've been the one you'd share your coat with when it's cold or your umbrella with when it's rainy. I could've been anyone else. Why couldn't I have been anyone else?
I wasn't who you'd wanted me to be. I wasn't the one you'd dreamed of.
No matter how you shape it, no matter how much I try to change it. I'm not who you wished I would be. And, chances are, I won't ever be.
You are your smile, your laugh, your sadness, and your secrets. You are your eyes, your lips, your face, and the wildly curly hair that frames it. You are the many things I do know. You are the many things I will never.
