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Description
“There’s something that I’ve wanted to tell you. Ah god, this is difficult, to tell you the truth…I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. I feel like such a nervous fuck. God, I’m so coarse when I’m nervous…I’m sorry you heard me speak like that. Well, maybe I’m not.
I don’t mean that as in I want to be rude around you, but I don’t want to hide who I am around you either. I don’t know, maybe I should. Listen to me, just rambling on.
You don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to…its ok.

Sometimes when you talk and talk away I let my thoughts stray. Sometimes I just stare at your figure, honestly; I’m surprised you’ve never caught me. Maybe you have, maybe you didn’t mind…maybe I have too high of an opinion of myself.

That doesn’t happen all the time, sometimes when you talk I can’t help but listen. I listen really close.
Some people don’t like to listen to what you have to say, but I’m not some people. A lot of people tell me that I’m not “some people.”
I’m not really sure if that s a compliment or not.
I just realized what I said, I’m sorry.
I’m sure there are lots of other people who like to listen to you! After all, someone as bright as you…I can’t be the only one, right!
Right?

I’m sure there is…I’m probably wasting my time.

Wasting time,
That’s kind of funny right? It’s sort of a great irony.
There were so many other times that I could have called you, and you would of come running.
I’m pretty sure I let something petty get in the way every time.

It’s weird right? I want to use the excuse, “Well, we were never single at the same time.”
But that’s not true at all, is it?
No, I wasted time and opportunity.

I did call you before; I bet you never knew that.

Once upon a time I called you on the phone, and someone answered. When they did my heart almost stopped. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was that it was a man’s voice. He said that someday you would call me back.

You never did.

I used to ride my bike far and wide. I would just let the road span out in front of me, and slowly peddle my way to wherever I wanted to be. Several times that summer I rode by your house.

That’s a pretty creepy thing to say.

I’m sorry, that was just outright disturbing…I’m already messing up your image of me already.
Or am I?
From day one you did acknowledge that I was creepy, but coming for you that was always ok.
I did ride past your house several times….

The last time I rode past I had Goethe’s Faust in German in my pocket. I had to go to the park to read to take my mind of the fact that I never saw you.

I did see you in the halls, but I always walked past you. It’s sort of the albatross around my neck now.

I remember one night I was on the stage, and I was really pouring out my soul. I saw you out in the audience, and I nearly chocked over the words. I wasn’t quite sure why.

I spent a lot of time being alone.

You were there to see me, I think.

Someone else was there to see me as well, I’m sure.

Oh, I really should have listened to your advice, but once again I made the wrong choice and wasted time.
A good bit of it.
I should have chosen a story teller, an entertainer, a conversationalist, someone who is both erotically and mentally fascinating.

That is right; I do think that you are mind-blowingly sexy,

I’m sorry; I never say things like that….
Well, I just did...so I guess that means that I don’t ever, but I almost never do.

I don’t even know why I’m talking so much.

I don’t think you even care. I want to spend a whole summer by your side, talking….and perhaps a few other things.

I want to have a curtain call and wrap you in the folds of the cloth, so that the play will end with us together in the center.

But, I wasted time.

I could have really done something great, you know?

……..what do you think about it?”

He focused ever fiber of his being on waiting for the answer, Like Estragon and Vladimir, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern he waited.

“I suppose I’ll never know then.”

He balled up the page he tore from the phone book and walked away from the phone he never had the courage to pick it up.

Description
“There’s something that I’ve wanted to tell you. Ah god, this is difficult, to tell you the truth…I don’t even know what I’m doing right now. I feel like such a nervous fuck. God, I’m so coarse when I’m nervous…I’m sorry you heard me speak like that. Well, maybe I’m not.
I don’t mean that as in I want to be rude around you, but I don’t want to hide who I am around you either. I don’t know, maybe I should. Listen to me, just rambling on.
You don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to…its ok.

Sometimes when you talk and talk away I let my thoughts stray. Sometimes I just stare at your figure, honestly; I’m surprised you’ve never caught me. Maybe you have, maybe you didn’t mind…maybe I have too high of an opinion of myself.

That doesn’t happen all the time, sometimes when you talk I can’t help but listen. I listen really close.
Some people don’t like to listen to what you have to say, but I’m not some people. A lot of people tell me that I’m not “some people.”
I’m not really sure if that s a compliment or not.
I just realized what I said, I’m sorry.
I’m sure there are lots of other people who like to listen to you! After all, someone as bright as you…I can’t be the only one, right!
Right?

I’m sure there is…I’m probably wasting my time.

Wasting time,
That’s kind of funny right? It’s sort of a great irony.
There were so many other times that I could have called you, and you would of come running.
I’m pretty sure I let something petty get in the way every time.

It’s weird right? I want to use the excuse, “Well, we were never single at the same time.”
But that’s not true at all, is it?
No, I wasted time and opportunity.

I did call you before; I bet you never knew that.

Once upon a time I called you on the phone, and someone answered. When they did my heart almost stopped. I can’t tell you how disappointed I was that it was a man’s voice. He said that someday you would call me back.

You never did.

I used to ride my bike far and wide. I would just let the road span out in front of me, and slowly peddle my way to wherever I wanted to be. Several times that summer I rode by your house.

That’s a pretty creepy thing to say.

I’m sorry, that was just outright disturbing…I’m already messing up your image of me already.
Or am I?
From day one you did acknowledge that I was creepy, but coming for you that was always ok.
I did ride past your house several times….

The last time I rode past I had Goethe’s Faust in German in my pocket. I had to go to the park to read to take my mind of the fact that I never saw you.

I did see you in the halls, but I always walked past you. It’s sort of the albatross around my neck now.

I remember one night I was on the stage, and I was really pouring out my soul. I saw you out in the audience, and I nearly chocked over the words. I wasn’t quite sure why.

I spent a lot of time being alone.

You were there to see me, I think.

Someone else was there to see me as well, I’m sure.

Oh, I really should have listened to your advice, but once again I made the wrong choice and wasted time.
A good bit of it.
I should have chosen a story teller, an entertainer, a conversationalist, someone who is both erotically and mentally fascinating.

That is right; I do think that you are mind-blowingly sexy,

I’m sorry; I never say things like that….
Well, I just did...so I guess that means that I don’t ever, but I almost never do.

I don’t even know why I’m talking so much.

I don’t think you even care. I want to spend a whole summer by your side, talking….and perhaps a few other things.

I want to have a curtain call and wrap you in the folds of the cloth, so that the play will end with us together in the center.

But, I wasted time.

I could have really done something great, you know?

……..what do you think about it?”

He focused ever fiber of his being on waiting for the answer, Like Estragon and Vladimir, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern he waited.

“I suppose I’ll never know then.”

He balled up the page he tore from the phone book and walked away from the phone he never had the courage to pick it up.