once upon a time there was a boy (or several boys…) i used to write to. this morning i read some old heartfelt emails. it made me nostalgic. not for the boy, but for the writing…

and for the encouragement he gave me. he pushed me to write. all the time. an excerpt: ‘you crack me up, and you make me sad, and that is what a storyteller does. stick with it boots. everybody has bad days. but the good days are the ones that matter more.’

there are so many things I want to be doing: writing, reading, resting, romancing, relaxing (apparently anything that starts with an ‘r’ and I’m there.)

i am doing some of these things, and waiting for others to come along, and dreaming about the possibility of the impossible, but it’s a tough place to be.

dreaming.

it reminds me of a night out with my boy bestie (the details of which i will not share…because of man code. or bestie code. or whatever means i won’t blab on a bestie)

he was talking about how he was unable to carry a conversation with a certain very pretty girl… and we talked about how some people just aren’t good listeners. and we lamented about how it’s hard to meet good people. and then i looked up and to the right and saw the moon. it was no super moon, but it was still gorgeous. and i looked at him and said ‘well, at least the moon is still beautiful’ and he laughed at me and said ‘you really are the eternal optimist. we’re talking about how people are mostly shitty and you start spouting about how nature is pretty.’

it’s true though, isn’t it? there’s beauty in everything…and maybe a not-so-great boy drifts out of your life so a perfect one can walk in?

it’s a nice thought.