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.