Back to Brandon

I am making this up as I go
So bear with me.

It has been a long time forgetting you and somehow you keep coming back to me. I haven't seen you since before 10th grade That encounter was tough to swallow because your eyes were pierced by the sun and your face was, no is, the most beautiful I have seen.
It never fails.

Here is the issue: You gave me a new pair of eyes, a new place to go. It was beautiful and you were amazing. You did a good thing for me, but when you left, headed towards your own life, I couldn't keep up with myself. I wasn't ready to live just yet. I still needed you there. So my sight started slipping away and I fell.

"I put your world into my veins. Now a voiceless sympathy is all that remains."

Every time I see you, I come back to life, as though I have been asleep under the flow of time, as though I have been watching it pass and accepting this world of text books and makeup and homes from a designer magazine. But, when I open my eyes, the face in the mirror torments me. I feel I have failed immeasurably and the person I see makes me ill. I am artificial, a plastic, mass produced doll with a polyester bra and the label "made in USA." Worse than this, my mind is on a conveyor belt as well.

So now when I see you, it is not joy that I feel in my restored eyes, it is torture in what they see. I wish you were here all the time so that I could live long enough to change.

Now here is the cure: I will have to differentiate between you and my ambition before I can reform myself and pack a suitcase. I have to let go of you before I can utilize your message. I will start now, and let my art take the reins. I will stop trying to change so that I'll be able to.

"We are given life so that we can live it."

Your senseless, muddled friend,
Elise

Barack Obama

So he will be president. This is great news as far as can be projected thus far. We'll see then.

Okay. I'm ready.