Nobody Like You


I've been looking to my dreams for answers because I'm not in touch with my soul anymore. I'm looking for signs, though I think I already know the answers. I've got you running through my mind when I'm awake and I can see you there when I'm dreaming. No matter what else is going on, I find my heart wanders in your direction. Psychology would say I'm holding on to your memory, but I don't remember a thing about the times we were together. I can't miss you, because you're not the same boy and I'm not the same girl we were back then. I don't know you any better than I know myself. I know the way I feel when I look at you. I know the butterflies and the stuttered words. I know looking away after making eye contact and blushing like I'm a kid again. I know those feelings and I know them well. Psychology would say it's because I'm not happy in my life with my responsibilities and I'm looking towards a simpler time and a simple life. Only there was never anything simple between us. We were beyond our ages, beyond what anyone thought we were. We shared a connection much deeper than holding hands and kissing behind bleachers. We were wondering else. Maybe everything we were was planted so deep that even the roughest conditions couldn't break the roots. Wouldn't that suggest that we are always meant to find each other, no matter the distance between us or the changes within? Wouldn't psychology say that was only wishful thinking and my hearts desire to hold on to what I once had? But I never had you, did I? You never had me, either. We were always a missed opportunity, no matter how many times we tried. You mean nothing to me but failure, yet I'd follow whether you're leading. Maybe I'm optimistic but I like to think there's no end when this much time can't create a gap. They can call me crazy, but I know you never would. You feel the same way I do and you lend the thoughts at every chance you have. Invading my mind when it's calm and peaceful. You bring a storm and every time, I get swept up in the idea that we can make this work. I think psychology would call that insanity... I call it love.

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