To the one who loved me too well…
There’s a girl in every crowd looking for something she fears will never be found. Still, she looks. She looks because every romantic movie and every love song, every couple celebrating their 50th anniversary tells her that she’ll find it someday. And in her heart she kindles a bit of hope that she’s capable of finding it, when her head tells her that she’s not—that she’s damaged. In every crowd there is a girl with a ghost for a smile, still looking for something she fears she’ll never find.
“Listen, baby,” she’d said all those years ago. “Music is ugly. It is ugly and hard to look properly in the eye.”
At first, you were too small for the wild wolf inside of you. But you made do. You were her little ankle-protector. Her foot-of-the-bed-night-watchman. Her adventure guide in all things smelly and questionably edible. It’s because of you that she always had someone to walk with, someone to keep her on her toes.