'My friends are such a drag, they think I'm such a freak.
They want to go to bed, I want to stay up late.'
There's a certain discontentment that lingers overhead when you lose something you never quite had. Instead of memories that have momentary flaws and occasionally words you wish had never been spoken, you have the wondrous 'what if's. You have the day dreams that never became reality. You have the wishful thoughts and the scenarios built one by one by gutless visionaries. Instead of reality, you get lost in an imaginary land you created, with a person you've made up within the safety of your own mind.
This person you've created can't hurt you, if you don't let him. He won't say something, then take it back. He won't reach out, only to pull away. He won't shrug you off, ignore you and leave you hanging in the dust. In your mind, he only nurtures. In your mind, there's only car rides with silly arguments over radio stations and CD's. There's only momentary lulls where neither of you know who's going to kiss whom after the movie ends. There's the look he gives you when you say something that hits so close to home. There's only comfort. There's only happiness. There's only star-filled night skies and forehead kisses.
But lying within this world of 'what if's and 'maybe's, there are things I'm certain of.
I'm certain that I'll never forget the moment I mindlessly laughed to myself then caught you looking at me, one hand on the steering wheel. And as we were stuck in traffic, your boyish smile lit up your caramel eyes and you muttered for me to hear, but maybe not for me to analyze as much as I have, "I've never heard you giggle before."
And I'm certain that sitting on our friend's couch, watching as our group made fools of themselves with Star Wars playing in the background, as we pretended not to notice how entangled we were, I really did enjoy the feel of your fingertips grazing my knee. I watched as your hand was hesitant with the movement and I had wanted nothing more than to lace our fingers together, but truth be told, there was something comfortable about just the light touch, with our arms linked instead.
So I'll say that, yes, if lust had taken over and doubt and hesitance were put aside, I would have allowed a trail of kisses to start upon your neck and move up along your jaw. I'll admit that eventually, I'd have let the comfortable touch become a heated bout of 'crescendo,' where our lips met once, twice, three times quickly, until they hardly parted, unless we were desperately in need of air. Our friends would have fell into a dark haze, your teasing about my lack of Star Wars knowledge would be muffled by the start of something, anything at all. And maybe, just maybe, things would have panned out differently. I mean, what if?
But we haven't talked since. And maybe, you'd be surprised to hear what I have to say. And maybe I'd regret ever suggesting that we talk.
In the end, I'm certain of a few moments. But I'm crazy for my world of 'what if's and 'maybe's.
