A Sort of Immortality

"You and I will be
Young forever"

There's people I look up to
Though I don't know them -
The actors that embody what I love and
Who I am now.
Especially those who become
Role models
Because their characters are.

It seems impossible to think that
One day
You'll be no more

Except,
You will still be here.
Take out the DVD,
Press play
And there you are.
Young and in your prime.

It'll take me back too -
To figuring out my feelings
And working out what I believe in,
To eager mornings
Discussing stories with my friends,
To singing in my room late at night
Just because it made me feel good,
To feeling I could do anything,
To being young.

We know them through their work.
Their work will always be here.
So we'll always remember them
And how they made us feel.

May

"What good is sitting
Alone in your room?"

A quiet settles upon the town.
The sunshine calls to all and sundry
Saying "come outside,
What harm can one afternoon do?"

Ignore it for now.
Ignore the carefree laughter of children
For whom "May" means
Barbeques and football and playing in the park.
Focus on books and paper.
Count down the days.
Just four weeks.
Focus for another month
And then we can do whatever we wish.
A reprieve.

Personally,
I'm looking forward to a picnic day.
Friends sprawled on the grass,
Sandwiches and strawberries and summer.

Then three months at home
Over too soon,
Most likely.
No time at all before
The last touch of summer on a golden countryside
Signals back to the grindstone.
Focus for two more years of this.

And then we can do whatever we wish.

Untitled (Suggestions welcome)

"Give me your answer,
Fill in a form,
Mine forevermore"

People dress it up.
Grand ceremonies,
Pomp and circumstance.
Overflowing vases of flowers,
Fancy dresses paraded for one day
Then stored away,
An excess of acquaintances and distant relatives
When, really, it's so simple.

All that matters
Are the two people standing
Together
At the head of the aisle.
They're the ones who make the decision.
They know
The person beside them is
Who they will always want beside them.
They've chosen to share their forevers.
They've chosen to announce it to the world.

But there are some who don't get the chance.
They still make the lifelong commitment.
But not in the eyes of the wider world.
Their promise is private, implicit,
Hidden.
No less true.

"Mine forevermore"
We don't need a form
To tell us what's in our hearts
But we'd like to be recognised.

Equal.

Knowing How To Feel

Eye contact, a spark. He takes the boy’s hand on that staircase and everything begins.

He spend months imagining what it would be like if only the other shares his feelings. He sketches out the myriad of possibilities; what would happen in a world where it is obvious what the other thinks, detailing the perfect scenarios in his journal. Just in case.

In his head it’s all fireworks and orchestras and romance and so many feelings. The “what if” of an innocuous brush of the fingertips and a throwaway comment.

It’s the equivalent of a teenage-bedroom-poster fantasy.

Until it’s not. One day he sings, not thinking of the boy, just wanting to express himself in the best way he knows.

A confession.

A kiss.

The years pass by, they stay together. Of course. They were always meant for each other, after all.

They get their happy ending: moving in together, chasing their dreams in New York, the inevitable wedding, a family, a lifetime together.

Sometimes he looks back and remembers his teenage fantasies. He still has his old journal from those months. It’s battered and dog-eared but he can never quite bring himself to throw it out. After all, it holds a record of “the best years of his life”

He can see what people mean by that now.

He misses the depth of feeling he had back then, encompassed in the pages written late at night, the endless K+B doodles, the tear stains from when everything nearly got too much for him to handle, the very best of his thoughts and daydreams.

Not that his life isn’t all anyone could hope for, it’s all he wants, all he needs.

It’s real. Making memories, not fantasies.

But it’s not quite how he imagined it would be.

Then again, nothing ever is.

Author’s Note: The title is derived from Stephen Fry’s letter in Dear Me – “I am perhaps happier now than I have ever been and yet I cannot but recognise that I would trade all that I am to be you, the eternally unhappy, nervous, wild, wondering and despairing 16-year-old Stephen: angry, angst-ridden and awkward but alive. Because you know how to feel, and knowing how to feel is more important than how you feel.” By the way, if you haven’t read that book I would recommend it!

I know this is barely a Glee FanFic but I’ll say it anyway – I don’t own anything.

To my future lover

I don't think I've met you yet.

Not that I believe in love at first sight.
(I'm sure it does happen but it's rare)
I reckon we''ll be friends first,
Comfortable in each other's company,
Happy to talk for hours about nothing in particular.
Rambling, reminiscing, debating,
Sharing.
Then one day we'll look at one another slightly differently
And realise that
The line between best friends and lovers is easily blurred.

You could be anyone.
A new student, work colleague,
Someone who takes up rowing just for the hell of it,
Someone I meet at a convention,
Someone I happen to sit next to in a cafe.

I don't know who you will be,
When we will meet
Or what will happen.

Maybe we will realise the moment we meet,
Not love at first sight,
But something more than "just friends".
We'll get to know each other
Over dinner, on the way to the movies,
Coffee dates and lunch breaks.

Or maybe it will be something different,
Something new and uniquely ours.
Whatever.

I look foward to meeting you.

Secrets

How much do we really know about each other?

I don't know your favourite colour.
I don't know your favourite film.
I don't know much about your life before we met.
Are these the sort of things best friends should know?

I know what you thought of school,
How much you like stretching your wings now
And that you're not fully free yet.
But you will be.

I know I trust you -
When I'm with you I just want to
Tell you everything.
Except, perhaps,
The stuff that really matters.

Does it matter?
Does it matter that I didn't tell you
Until I had to?
Does it matter that you were the only one I wanted to tell?

I know you'll always be there for me.
I know I'll always be there for you.

Yeah, we know enough.

The Juggler

You made my day.
Practising your juggling
Whilst we waited for the next lecture.
I was smiling,
Enjoying the spectacle
And you saw,
And smiled too.

Connection.
And I saw -

Perhaps you'd send a note across the lecture hall -
"Hello, I hope you don't think I'm being forward,
Here's my number."
And I'd reply,
"Hi, I'm Helen."

Or maybe you'd wait until Tuesday
And send a Valentine's card.

Or maybe...
I'd make the first move,
Put aside my personality
And say hello.

Or maybe it was just a moment.
Two minutes out of a Friday morning.

It still made me smile.
It still makes me wonder.