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