I like pretending I'm in a film - a romantic comedy, a drama without any. The words wash over me like a cool breeze during a New York City summer. The movements become so realistic, the actor's skin brushing onto my own like leaves onto the emerald grass below. It becomes so perfect. It becomes so right.
The film becomes my life and it begins to drift away. It turns into a dark comedy, a romance without any. The words become my own and fall off of my tongue like peas rolling out of a pod. It doesn't seem to fit. The grass turns into sawdust and blends in with the wind, carrying it to a different city.
For this city was never a place for a romantic film. I just don't seem to fit the part of the lover.
I'm beginning to think that my life is going backwards - maybe in a good way. I miss the days when he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not were wished upon the petals of a rose or just standing near that someone makes you nervous like a child. I feel like that feeling may be making it's way back. The remaining question is: is it okay for me to fall backwards again when moving ahead has always been my goal?
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