Keeping people at a distance is an art. One that takes at least twenty years of practice. I know this because I am 20. And I have mastered this art. That isn't pride in my words. It's loneliness.
Chances are, if I ever said I'd love you forever, it all faded in the end. The love didn't melt away, but I did. The duration of the love didn't matter anyway - If I loved you for only a second, I'm sure I chased you away.
I thought about this as I sipped cheap coffee that tasted like gasoline. It was seven in the morning and I was in the main indoor foodcourt of my giant university. A place that is always crowded and sweaty with people every hour of the day, every day of the week. But not this day. It was summertime and school wasn't in session. Nobody was there. Except me. I put my bag down on a small round table, and rested on a wooden bench against the wall. The lighted restaurant signs glowed faintly. I looked at all the empty tables and chairs. I was alone. And then a realization struck me: If there were a million people in that room, I'd feel exactly the same.
You must have seen me running. I'm always running. Not away from something, but to something. I just don't know what it is yet. Maybe you tried to run after me. I never forget the people that do. They're always beautiful. I'm sorry I didn't stop for you.
I don't really know who I am these days. There are few things I know to be true about myself. And most of them aren't very profound -
I like the rain. I think miracles happen when it rains. I like moving down a man's body and kissing the trail of hair that starts from under his belly button and leads to you know where. I like feeling his eyes watching me as I do this.
I love anticipation.
I eat carne asada on my french fries and drink my milk through a straw. It's because I like blowing bubbles until the glass overflows with white foam. It makes me smile. Like a child.
I laugh when I'm nervous. I've spent most of my life laughing.
I'll always be that awkward girl in the corner who has a secret that nobody wants to ask about. The one who would steal your boyfriend if she thought her cleavage was impressive enough. That's me. And then I'll tell you I'm not superficial. Everyone says that.
I'm probably not your ideal girlfriend. I'm that beta that stares at the side of its bowl and fights its own reflection. That's why I keep running. I can barely take care of myself so how could I take care of you?
When I was a little kid I drowned my goldfish.
Yeah, I don't get how it happened either.
So much of everything is uncertainty. Maybe all I want is not somebody who will chase me or stop me from running. Maybe what I want is someone to run with me. That's really what love is. It's not about your sexy sports car or your celebrity status. It's about your courage. And a comfortable pair of running shoes.
If you're brave enough, don't ask me to slow down. Just find me and we'll run and run and run. To the edge of the earth. Or something incredibly corny like that. There is no guarantee that you'll ever catch me because I may never find what I'm running to. However, I'll leave you with this little window to my heart:
Meet me under the city lights. I like running at night.
8.16.06
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