Here we are. You’re sitting across from me, with pizza between us. We don’t say anything; we just stare into the infinity of each other’s eyes. Conversing with no words, the most intimate kind of conversation.
Here we are. Walking slowly to my math class, talking about your hair and how you want me to style it. Talking about my mother’s job. Talking about how both of our fathers are lawyers. Talking about how you want a brother and how I wanted to give you mine. Talking about sushi. About everything and nothing; the most beautiful kind of conversation.
Here we are. Miles away, yet in the same place, connected by our devices. You send me a photo of your dog. I send you a photo of my socks. You show me your ceiling, the one you stare at for hours, thinking about whatever. I show you my dinner, prepared by my brother (whose yours for the taking. Just like me).
Here we are. At a table in Starbucks with our laptops in between us as we type our essays. I reach out in front of me, my eyes not leaving the screen as I pick up a cashew nut from our common plate. Our hands meet and we keep it that way. Touch, the most reassuring kind of conversation.
Here I am. 3am, lying down with tears in my eyes. I ask myself why am I so in love with you.And why you’re not in love with me too. 3am thoughts, the worst kind of conversation.
Yeah, here we are.