Waiting For Your Picture

I sit alone at my cornered desk daydreaming as I doodle faces on the back of my overdue phone bill that I’ve been meaning to pay. I draw a version of you; short, round, and semi beautiful, looking at a version of me; tall, bat shaped, and a big mess, I then attempt to draw our deformed bodies holding hands underneath the sun. As I’m patiently drawing “us,” I notice that we’re both smiling; it may be because we’re under the sun in a breezy winter day, or we’re happy together holding hands, or it could be because it’s just a picture. Seeing us smile together is unusual, it makes me wonder and think out loud, “Am I happy?” A question I’ve been avoiding for five years, I ignore it and start to draw something else. My phone vibrates and beeps a beep that’s painful to the ear; it’s a message from you. You finally sent the picture I kindly asked for three hours ago. Despite the wait, it makes me smile to see your face even if it’s just a picture. I realize I’m smiling a lot more than usual which is weird because I smile all the time. I smile at the world and its contents even if they slap me in the face.  I’ve always been happy being alone but I’ve noticed that ever since you came into my life, I finally feel alive. I’m so embarrassed, I feel so pathetic but I wouldn’t dare share any of this with you. I stare at the picture imagining myself kissing your cherry blossom lips and with a hidden meaning, “thank you” is what I reply.  

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