To the boy with the head in the clouds and the face sprinkled with freckles.
To the girl with the big green eyes wrapped in modesty and with a passion for photography.
Sometimes I think I’ve been born to see differently.
Everything I see is beautiful. But no one understands what I mean. The colors, the contrast, the light and the dark. It’s overwhelming.
I think it’s a sickness. Because my problems are beautiful too.
I’m stuck in the Bi, you see.
Stuck between a girl and a boy, stuck between two people.
His dream is to enter the NASA.
He fits well in space. Alone in the shadowy substance. Alone in the sound of silence. His big brown eyes staring into a never ending depth, exploring each crevasse of darkness with curiosity.
Her dream is to take pictures.
It suits her as well. Her mind is sharp, like the lens of a camera. Her mind is complex yet her laughter is juvenile and so beautifully simple.
I’m stuck between both. My fantasies cheat my physical confidence, reminding, insisting, that my untroubled appearance is just an illusion.
I’d be the moon for him to explore,
and the sun for her to capture.
But in reality, all I am is the ground. Wishing I could grow into both, but knowing I’m stuck to the core.