i won't let you down {oh, yes i will}

(green room)

the two tallest buildings in winston are nearly centered in the middle window pane. feels like you could trace a line from them through me all the way to pilot mountain. the favorite child of f. scott fitzgerald is on the table to the right, the front cover gracefully erect with use. this may be the earliest i've ever written. i take that back... but it's early for me. the forecast for the today is for ambient light and fluttering dead leaves. my stomach groans with excitement.

as usual when i write (and it's good to write again), i start thinking of you. now, "you" has referred to a number of people over the years but it, in itself, is such a perfect concept to me that it never grows old. this may well be the second or third time the things i feel and do apply to you. if anything, at least i'm consistent.

i've had a daydream stick with me recently. in the middle of class, walking home, studying... it's a welcome distraction. we're laying on your futon watching some movie. i'm in the back and your head's on my chest just so... actually, i suppose i'd have to be in the front if you were to lay your head on my chest and still see the movie but no matter. daydreams are bound to no laws of nature or physics. you're laying on my chest and i'm scratching your head and... well, that's it. that's all i really need, in a way. like the time at the movies you leaned closer to me than the other kid next to you. i loved the film but what i remember as much as anything is just that physical contact. elbow to elbow. i remember shifting to sip my drink or eat a raisinet just to reestablish that contact all over again. the sliding, the friction, the pressure. nobody talks about it but it's there. and it's beautiful .

can you see it now? is it clearer? this is where the jealousy comes from. way down in my stomach. this is why i can't share you. why i'm so bad at being a friend. because i'm assaulted by the same green, selfish feeling that has burrowed down deep before: that if it's anyone, it should be me.