If You Asked Me How I've been

It's one of those days you can feel; sunny but cold, with wind loud enough to hear as it runs through the branches. The kind of day that kisses you with a sadness that you crave more of. It’s been distracting me from the slow movements of the morning. Today feels a lot like when we were together and for some reason I've grown attatched to reminders.

Lately, I've been told to focus less on how I feel and more about what needs to get done, but I refuse to claim a life emptied of emotions. I've been collecting moments of overwhelming apprehension, waiting for the other shoe to drop, thinking there must be more to the mundane than to the mild abuse of chaos.

I’m finding a rare peace in routines, yet I can't shake the expectations I devised for myself from you. Am I everything you dreamed I would be? I’m afraid you haven't given it a second thought since the last I've seen of you. My standards have always been set too high and yours, I imagined as far more untouchable.

Still I'm left dreaming about myself through your eyes, searching for any indication you’d consider it remarkable. Though, Somewhere in my mind, I'm finding beauty in the ordinary. I've stopped searching for excitement to overtake my attention and I've grown accustomed to a natural enthusiasm. One that grows from consistency rather than strikes of inspiration. I’ve figured out how to grow and change, while seemingly remaining the same, appreciating the privilege of privacy as if I’d have anyone to tell. I miss revealing my secrets. I miss venting to someone you know is really listening. I still listen to the song that reminds me of you. I still write my love for you, just so someone, anyone, will know. Sometimes I still see your face in crowded places and I can never tell if I'm hoping that it will really be you this time. I wonder what you remember about me. I wonder if you find me in strangers or if to you, there will never be another that could resemble what I offered. I hope one day this finds you and you're reminded of our sadness too.