Don't think about that guy

"Don't think about that guy!"

You shouted to me over your shoulder as you ran toward the bus stop, your bright red sweater flashing as you disappeared into the crowd.

I must have shouted something back at you although I can't remember what it was. Knowing me, it was probably a very weary but enthusiastic "OK!" The enthusiasm was for you - my best effort to appease optimists - but the weariness was for me and the inevitable catch-22 of bullshit infatuations: to get over someone, you find someone else. Don't think about that guy by thinking about another guy.

Not that I was looking for you. I always felt this strange ticking sensation deep within me whenever I'd run into you on campus. Like a tiny grandfather clock was sitting inside my chest, and whenever I'd see you, it would strike midnight. I still walk those same pathways where I used to glimpse you, and sometimes I expect to just see you striding toward me, headphones around your neck, a book in your face. Even though I know it's impossible, I think that part of me secretly hopes that I will see you walking, completely unaware that you're about to bump into me like you did that afternoon you told me not to think about "that guy." I guess it's for the better...because we all know what happens when twelve am rolls around. The little bird jumps out and yells "Cuckoo!"

I have been forced to live a stationary life since I was born, and the frustration of it all has finally polluted me. I think I've made up for the sedentary lifestyle that has throttled me throughout these years by finding romance in individuals who won't stay still. Maybe it's from the hope they can make me free like them, and I can fly away from this self-defeating cage of unattainable dreams. I'm always ready to leave, always ready to go somewhere, but the clock never strikes midnight when I'm alone.

"Don't think about that guy!" you shouted to me.

I never would have thought that you would later be "that guy." The guy that I would have to let go of, the guy I couldn't hold on to forever.

You're always ready to leave, always ready to go somewhere.

And sometimes, when I think about all of the memories we've made together, I still feel a pressing urgency to go chase you. But I know I never will. I found you without looking for you, and if I ever do find you again I don't want to hear the ticking of any clock.

Most of our love was clocks.