The Indicator x The Student: “Dear Diary”

these days all my thoughts have begun to feel like letters to you
  sometimes it hurts to think. talking to you is easier.
and so,
  hi.
i have not been creative as of late.
  lately you have begun to take residence inside some part of me; in particular, you do spend a lot of time in my head.
hi.
i’m sorry. the inside of my head has never been the nicest place.
  for you, i will try to make it better.

because you see beauty in asymmetric buildings and
                  i can only see them tumbling down.
you hold me back until it is safe to cross the street
                  and i tend not to look both ways.
you like your music dissonant; you like your coffee black,
and you like every bad photo of me,
    you take them all and then show them to me after the fact as if to say
there, you see? was that so bad?
       do you see yourself, there?
                        to me,
                       you aren’t so bad.
i’m sorry,
     you believe that i am better than i am
and i let you.

hi.
i have decided to assign meaning to numbers. you can be 20, and i can be 24.
hi.
i had a dream that the waves went sideways on the shore and somehow flooded my building even though i live on the 42nd floor.
hi.
i don’t know why i tell you these things.
i find myself wanting to give myself to you in full
      so maybe you can make sense of it,
the same way you always have a simple solution
         to the problems i have made convoluted
the same way that when we go out to eat
i give you the thing i wanted to try and you give me
   the better thing that you knew was good and
how do you always know that it is good and what do you gain
     from giving me the better half?

    and instead, you look at the crumbs on my face
and it makes you laugh, and you give me a look with a smile on your face
    and i am begging you not to ask, because no, i do not know
how that part of the pizza got there and why every feeling i have
    is so big, i cannot make sense of these things on my own
and i have felt this way since i was a kid, oh dear diary,
i am so scared
    that if you no longer understand me i may lose
all meaning, can you tell me
   what will become of the good in me
      if you are no longer around to see it?

but anyways,
hey, hello,
        hi.

i’m sorry
i lied
when i said i didn’t hear the woman on the subway tell you that you are a genius
       i just wanted to hear it again
i’m sorry,
i speak about you in lowercase
    not because i am ashamed but because
i am scared
if i say these things too loudly i may wake myself up from a dream,
that the universe may rear its ugly head toward the good thing
        and take it away

     and when i write to you i want every word to shine
          i want every verse to rhyme,
and it doesn’t,
and when i say things often i am just to the left of what i actually mean,
but it is ok because
         you understand.

as someone whose entire life has been spent searching for the right words
i am here to announce my retirement

yes, i like you.
       forgive me,
            i am scared
to say the stronger word.