it's not me, it's you

things are moving slower than normal.  we both ask secretly ask ourselves why?  are you really into this?  am i?  on paper everything fits.  we’re from the same state, hell practically next door neighbors.  we both had fucked up mothers (sorry mom, i love you).  our insanity is the only thing keeping us sane.  we both like attention.  you’re a dancer who sings and i’m the next cindy sherman.  you’re my type.  so much so that it’s hard to look at you sometimes.  your eyes piercing blue. 

i photograph you as much as you’ll allow.  it’s when i feel most natural and free to be myself around you.  i’ve never seen you dance.  you barely sing.  you say you only sing when you’re being paid.  this doesn’t sit well with me for some reason.  it makes me uneasy.  

do things with passion or not at all. 

how can you love to sing and dance but only do it if someone pays you?  i take pictures simply because i love taking pictures.  in this way you’re different from him. 

him.

you think i’m not over him.  is that what’s holding you back?  you said the day we met, if you’re gonna fall, you fall hard and tend to move quickly.  and yet here we are.  since we’ve met, you’ve maintained your scruff account and god knows what else.  you don’t take this seriously.  why?

is it him?  are you jealous, scared, hesitant?  clearly the latter.  we’re going on one month now and we’ve not been physical other than holding hands and some light making out.  if you normally move faster than “the flash” then why are we moving at the speed of molasses? 

is it simply that we’re not that into each other?  

 

aaron williams