Do I ever cross your mind?

I am the type of person who loves to think. I will think about everything and nothing all at the same time. But I often find myself thinking about the same thing. I bet that none  of the people I think about ever think about me.

I doubt that I randomly pop into their mind when they lay awake at night trying to find the courage to close their eyes and sleep even though they know that  I will be the face that they see.

I doubt that they think about  my laugh or remember the fact that I hate the dark, or that I don’t like hot dogs.

I doubt that they remember all of the good nights that we have had together.

I doubt that they recreate our old funny conversations in their mind.

I doubt that they look for my face in a place that I usually am.

I doubt that any songs bring them back to a less than perfect memory of the both of us.

I doubt that when they look back on any of the best nights of their life that I am a part of them.


A weird thing about me is that I remember everything about my partner. But I rarely get a guy that gives two shits about things that have to deal about me.

No one has yet to notice that my eyes turn green after I cry, or that I have a beauty mark on the left side of my mouth or that I have a chicken pox scar about my right eyebrow.  No one knows that I only wear rings on my left hand and bracelets on my right wrist.

No guy knows these things. No one has cared to notice these things about me.

I just need to wait for the person who knows these things about me. I need to wait for the person that realizes things about me that I never knew.


About mylifeaselana

Words can not describe me. But I try to use them to explain me. View all posts by mylifeaselana

6 responses to “Do I ever cross your mind?

  • Danniel

    First of all this reminded me of that Brian McKnight song Anytime, that I used to love so much. “Do I ever cross your mind, anytime? Do you ever wake up reaching out for me? Do I ever cross your mind, anytime? I miss you.”

    Your posts really tear at my withered heart strings (I’m not really sure why I phrased it like that). I think about this all the freaking time. There’s this one girl and I can’t remember the last day I didn’t think about her, and so many songs remind me of her, and so many situations make me think of her, and then I kind of feel stupid about it because it feels like she doesn’t ever think about me. Every time she starts talking to me again she says she does think about me often, and maybe she does, but for some reason it never feels like it. I guess I’m not sure how it would feel like it.

    I’ve always said that my memory works in odd ways, and I think it does, but I think more and more as the years have gone by I’ve willed it to work that way. I really fucking enjoy knowing stuff about people, and you can tell I’m enthused about it because I said ‘fucking’. Eva’s favorite stuffed animal is a bear named Mr. Waffles. Lexie likes to watch tv with her head hanging upside down off the couch, and even though I’ve never seen it I bet she looks adorable. Annie’s favorite thing in the entire world was her dog Trixie and she never felt safer than when she was cuddle up with it at night. Dyana always tells I’m not allowed to see her without make up on because she looks hideous, forgetting that on one occasion I saw her without make up on and it was the most beautiful I had ever seen her.

    Unfortunately I’ve never been close enough to a girl to notice the things you’re waiting for the right guy to notice about you. I just hope that when I am I don’t let those things go unnoticed.

    Guys do suck, and they probably don’t think about you as much as you think about them, but I can all but guarantee you that at least once a week you come across their mind, and I’d be shocked if when they do they don’t think of you fondly and smile, or if they’re anything like me smile for the good times and then regret all the mistakes they made to push you away. The point is I hope you’re in good shape, because I promise you that you run across a lot of minds (sorry for the cheesiness, I can’t help it sometimes).

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