It’s funny how easy it is to forget all the good when you get wrapped up in everything that’s wrong. My Something. I remember when he asked me to my own prom. Even now that sentence makes me laugh. How badly he had wanted to go with me and how badly I had wanted to go with him and only him. I’ve never fought for anyone as much as I had fought for him. And no matter how crazy he drives me, I never seem to regret it.

But that’s not where I was going with this, I was just replaying a memory in my head. One that I had almost forgotten. We were standing across the room during the “cocktail hour” and I glanced up, catching my eyes on his. We just stared, for what I now know wasn’t much more than a few moments, but at the time felt like a eternity. And then a smile crossed his face and I felt my face flush.

Then my brain speeds forward and I think of that night. He spent it in my brother’s old room because we were leaving to early the next morning. I had used everything in me to refrain from being too needy, from wanting him as much as I did. But with all my make-up off, and pajamas far younger than I was, and my hair a curly mess, still he looked at me awestruck. And I did everything I could to drink in the memory, to try to prevent my mind from washing away such a night.

Even still my mind goes further, to not very long ago, when we sat on my couch remembering those memories. “That was the most nerve racking prom I had ever been to.” he said. I laughed thinking I had misunderstood, “Why?” “Because I wanted to make you happy so badly.” he mumbled, almost ashamed. I smiled, “That was the very best night I had ever had.” I whispered it so quietly I’m not even sure he heard me.

I miss that. Not that I don’t still have him every so often, because I do. And I know he loves me, and often times I love him too. I just hesitate to admit it. Perhaps because I need him around. Oh, if only he knew this existed… He’d be speechless to read those words. You see, I never admit that. Ever. I need no one, I’ve grown independent and, in a way, cold. I didn’t mean to become that way, it just happened.

But here, so I can prove it..

Dear Something,

I need you.


The Cartographer of the Tangles in Your Hair.

Does this make you nearly as nervous as it makes me?