until they sparked.

i looked down the line. faces from my past rushed at me,
some with their smiles, some with their hands shoved into the pockets of their jeans.
i saw brunettes and toe-heads,
their heights and eye colors ranging from one end of the spectrum to the other.
i don't repel guys, i realized with slight surprise, scratching my head.
quite the contrary; i attract them and then have no idea what the fuck to do with it.

a world full of first kisses, both drunken and sober, a stomach full of butterflies, the awkwardness of intimacy, and the heart shattering moments of secrets exist amongst this group.
it is what ties them together, permanently bonded by at least one thing:
me.
i am what they have in common, whether our time together ended well of with jagged edges, dropped like a careless glass bowl.

i run my eyes over their faces, locating where each of them hits me;
my heart, my brain, my fingers. feelings lighting up in patches all over.

they are waiting, for something.
not for me, but for me.
what is it? i rack my brain as they wait, patiently, for me to understand.
they are not waiting for me. i don't want them, and they sure as hell don't want me.
yet still they stand there, feet shoulder width apart, looking like they know, just know,
it will come.
and it does.

it hits me like a truck, nearly knocking me off of my feet; i lose my breath, my existence temporarily suspended.
they are not waiting for me. they are waiting for me to realize that they are not waiting for me.
i should not be waiting for them. i should not be waiting for anyone.

smiles crease their faces.
they turn and shake hands, like doctors who have finally diagnosed a patient after years of not understanding the symptoms.
as i watch, they file silently out the door; some throw a wave, some don't even look at me, some give a lingering glance,
and my breath comes back to me as they leave me, as much as they can.

this is where i find myself slightly giddy at the thought of having no one in the room with me.
what have i been waiting for? what am i waiting for? have i just been too damn stubborn to listen?
yes, i answer softly, with a chuckle. of course.
and i stand here, on my own two feet. this is me, and you know what? i am damn proud.

i hear life is a journey, not a destination. my anziety riddled days have been haunting me, leaving me speechless, wandering aimlessly down streets and avoiding eye contact with those who have discovered this lesson.
i am young; but not so young that i should be here still. so what?
tomorrow is a whole new day. and really, that's all i have to worry about.
time to take part in that journey,
throw my hands up like a rollercoaster and remember to breathe.