Undo.
I am short sighted.
I am always unable to see the forest, always stuck looking at one tree, and the bark on that tree. Or, forever staring at my feet, watching for snakes or fallen branches.
I can't plan past a week, I can't save for a rainy day, I have no goals beyond my immediate future. My needs cannot extend past any given Friday.
It feels like this started 5 years ago, when I left my long term plans in Colorado. Maybe it was before that when I traded my engagement ring in for a tennis bracelet. Or, maybe, it happened when I finally lived alone.
I don't want to be anything when I grow up any more. No dreams of art school in France ever keep me awake at night, studing another language. My 401K plan has kept quiety to itself for 2 years, my stocks long gone, my savings the 10 dollars left on my credit card.
Wrapped up in seeing you again, so I could sell myself, this town, and the faces of my unborn children, how was I to see far beyond the distance I can't imagine?
I've lived my life selfishly. I've asked and asked without a care to what someone could give, what they would give, in return I have nothing but a weak prescription that doesn't allow me to see.
Now, I can't ask. I can't ask you to fall in love with me, I can't ask you to move, I can't ask you to hurry up. And, I can't wait.
I can't leave here. I can't leave my brother again. I will not be confined to telephone calls with the only person I can say will ever be my other half. I will not leave someone that has always understood me before I've said anything.
All I can do is warn you. I can tell you not to do something you're already going to do. I can tell you my stories in hopes you learn something from them, but even I know you're going to have to learn everything I know by yourself. I can paint pictures of my past, but they mean nothing until you build a past of your own.
In what was likely my last act of true faith, I let myself feel the leaves without seeing the forest, I let myself fall in love with a song without listening to the rest of the album. I let myself be in those days, and "everything was not enough".
I streched my arm and remembered when we tried to figure out if I was double jointed.
I'd like to tell you to sell your guitar for a bus ticket, or enough money to put down one last bet. I'd like to, but I can't. I'm not a good investment.