The Breeze

Its  12:13 Am, Sunday night in my Dorm room.  My window is slightly cracked and the January air is easing my worries.  From the outside looking in an outsider might ask what do you have to worry about? You have lived to see twenty this past weekend, and spent it with a girl’s company whom you can’t replace. This is all true. The breeze makes its way to a bear hug around my soul and reminds me of this girl. It reminds me of her touch, and it allows my mind to drift to the memories of our time spent together.  Her scent floats across the air, as it blankets the room, and it lightly grazes my face, reminding me of her soft tender lips upon mine. It seems to not howl like other winds, but instead makes a smooth melancholic sound reminding me of her unequaled laugh. The breeze is bewitching, as is she.

I shut the window.  I need to face reality.

I am in love.

I love a girl, who really likes me, but loves another.  Over the past few hours that I have sat in this room I have come to realize this. I also have come to the acceptance that there will be a time in our love journey where she will have a decision to make, Though out loud said decision is thought to be a hard one, and up in the air…  in her heart She has always known, but never admitted it to herself.  I myself have always known the outcome as well. Like her I was battling with self-realization, until today.

She will choose him.

With this knowledge the choice is clear.  Human nature will tell you to leave the situation in order to feign off the embarrassment.  Even with being highly logical in my decisions of the heart, and facing reality, is it sad to say I don’t want to leave?  Is it wasteful to be willing to feel a mountain of embarrassment in order to have one more day of the happiness I feel when I see her?  No matter what it makes me, wanting to spend every inch of time the world has to offer us as lovers couldn’t be any truer.  The time we spend together is both perfect and flawed.   Whenever I am around her my body becomes this type of human cocoon and butterflies flutter all throughout.  I stumble over my words, and the beauty in her eyes forces me to look away in conversation, almost as if unworthy.  With all that said oddly enough, loving her couldn’t feel more natural. No one fits as snug as she does in my arms.  We share so many similarities, yet so many difference that the way it balances out it unmistakably beautiful.

Sometimes I find myself thinking, “ If only I met you first.” But then I stop and realize that even if I could change something I wouldn’t.  Our beginning and our course to get to the point we are at, makes me appreciate her all the more.

“If you love something let it go, and if it comes back it’s yours forever, and if it doesn’t It was never meant to be.”

I have always had that mindset with her.  Call it fate, call it my soul, but something in me has never let me stop believing in us.  I enjoy our time together, and a piece of my heart always goes when she goes… But I never stop believing that she will come back.

I never give up hope that this is the real deal.

I open back up my window, and allow my worries to take a backseat again.

When she makes that decision, it will be hard for me, She will take a piece of my heart as she always seems to do, but I will smile because I know she can never take my breeze.

Remember me.

Don’t you remember the reasons you loved me.

“Don’t you remember, don’t you remember the reasons you loved me before?”

This question echoes from my soul, into my heart, throughout my mind, and into my ears as I listen to Adele’s voice say the words, and glace at an ex’s Facebook page.  I’d be playing it down if I just left it at an “ex’s Facebook page”. Words never seem to quite justify what she means to me. There will never be enough words invented, and never enough word documents for me to ever feel its substantial to validate my feelings. However for this entry I want to call her the reason. The reason I love. The reason I take my time with things now, especially relationships. She is the reason why I express my self through writing now instead of anger. The reason that if so tomorrow is the day I die, I can die with a smile on my face and the image of her cheese dip covered, smiling face on the forefront of my fading mind and know I have experienced pure blissfulness.

I look through her pictures, pausing on each one to digress my own story behind them.  Most of them are her and her new boy friend. I read behind the smiles, and I read the post he writes her, and her replies. They are in love.  Although I accept it, I pray on it everyday. I pray for him first. I pray he kisses her a little longer, as I wish I did.  I pray that he makes her laugh a little louder, (the kind where she actually sounds like a streaking dog) a little more often, as I wish I did.   I pray that every time he talks to her, and that every time he holds her soft hands that he realizes he is living out another man’s dream and doesn’t take it for granted.  I end the prayer in hopes that he knows that if I had the power to go back and relive a second of any of it.. It would be the only thing I ever did.   I pray for her next. I tend to always find this Ironic, praying for a girl who is clearly one of god’s angels here on earth, however pointless I do it anyway and simply keep it short.  I pray that she is happy, happier than she ever was with me. I pray for her success and riches in money and in health.  That she knows she is loved by somebody with every fiber and every inch they have to offer. I end the prayer with more so of a plead.  That she remembers.

God please help her to remember me once more.

An open Letter


I write this in a cluttered room with a cluttered mind. The woman whom I write this for and who knows me best would most likely tell you what else is new if she heard me say this.  I miss the jokes, I miss the love, I miss my mother.  Anger keeps us apart, but blood and love keeps us forever intertwined in life. Tomorrow will be the 20th anniversary of the day Tammi Marie Adams brought me into this world.  As a young woman with her family against it, job barely supporting her, society would have said it was imbecilic to keep me. My mom on the other hand saw it as a gift from god. Rightfully so for that I will be internally grateful for the rest of my life.  In hopes that I am loved I will most likely receive many “Happy birthday messages” tomorrow, and the woman who sacrificed everything for me on this day twenty years ago will receive none.  It is my hope that this open letter, though will merely compare to my true feelings, will give you the slightest idea of how thankful I am, and how much I truly love you. Happy 20th birthday Mom.

Unspoken Bond


Sometimes I find myself wondering why… wondering why to many questions that seem to not have any answers, and possibly never will. Tonight my question to the world or in truth to myself is why her. What is it that we share? We are not any relative to one another and we don’t come from the same background nor do we share the same pain from a similar past experience. Our interests are slightly compatible, but not enough to wonder if we were somehow separated at birth. I have only known her for two years, but for some reason, when I talk to her I feel understood, and I no longer have questions about the world, because everything starts to make sense in that moment.



We met in a Georgia high school class room. Our friendship had an ordinary beginning; I didn’t walk into the class room in slow motion, hair blowing in the wind and lock eyes with her from across the room and began a glorious friendship or love affair, but over the stretch of the school year a small platonic kinship blossomed, and over the summer it grew slightly larger, no less platonic however. The following school year she had decided to move with her mom to Florida, though I shed no tears I knew I would miss her a little, so I decided to keep in touch. We would text occasionally, and some nights she even called. We would talk like close friends and with complete trust. She told me about her and the new boyfriend she had, or the hit and run she had tried to get away with, but eventually had been found out. I listened and offered stories of my own when she was finished; nothing to personal, but things I certainly wouldn’t tell an acquaintance.



Six months later the girl comes back to Georgia, and back to being physically in my life, but now it’s different. I now noticed the beauty in her eyes that I blindly overlooked before her absence. I noticed how radiant and flawless her skin appeared to have gotten. I plainly just noticed how drop dead gorgeous the girl was. I developed a crush, but I proceeded with caution. The months went by, and our friendship kept a steady pace without a hint of either of us longing for more; we were still platonic, still not separated at birth, but simply good friends.


One night all that would change. Combined with the liquid courage that alcohol provided, and the sexual tension that had been building slowly but surely for months now, I went for it. I went into kiss her. She didn’t fight it, instead she intensified the moment by pulling me in closer to her body, and passionately kissing me back. The next day was weird, I didn’t know if our friendship would be ruined forever, but deep down inside I felt like nothing would change. I felt it was a moment that needed to happen, and so it did. She felt the same, and we agreed that we weren’t going to miraculously spring up a beautiful relationship because ultimately both of our hearts were taken by others who had come into our life over the months. So time went by without us seeing each other, but of course that didn’t stop our communication. We still remained good friends, but then there came a time where we were at the same party, and it happened again. We found ourselves mindlessly wandering to the same corner, and sharing a moment.  It happened again at the party after that, and again at the next. Still when we were apart, nothing changed. She went about with her significant other and as did I, No talks about developing into something more, or talks of love.




One night my friend asked me to hook him up with this girl, and I suddenly felt the heat that anger always brings when it enters your body. I wanted to say no way! Are you out your mind! But on what grounds did I have to say something like that? She was nothing of mine, so instead of saying what I really wanted to say I went to the girl and told her to give my friend a call. She never did though, and when my friend I asked her why, she said she just couldn’t date one of my friends and left it at that.



More time went by and as did the same pattern.


Until one night…. One painful night


like a thousand furious bees , life stung me square in the heart.  I no longer had that significant other, and I couldn’t believe it. I went through a dark time, a very dark time, and I cut my self off from the world. Best friends, family, good friends, teachers, cats, pigeons, dogs, etc. no one was excluded. My phone would ring, and it would run its course without me even bothering to see who it was. Text messages went by unread. A few weeks later I excluded family, from the list and also cats and pigeons and I started to embrace their conversation and start to talk again. For some reason I also decided to exclude her. We started to talk, not flirt but talk, and though I didn’t allow the conversations to last long I still welcomed them as they came. I let her in…  but why?



I like to think the answer is because of the fact that somewhere along the simple phone conversations, the text messages, the moments shared alone, and the small similarities in our personalities that we developed an unspoken bond. Its not love, we wont ever sit on a park bench watching the sun set over the distant horizon. We won’t be looking into each other eyes reciting vows to one another. We probably won’t ever share any type of formal relationship, and im perfectly fine with that because I gave my heart away a long time ago.

We share something much deeper than any of that though, a connection that can’t be seen, but can be felt inside us both. We share an understanding of one another, not a full understanding but one that another person would never be able to provide in a way like she does. We share a trust that wasn’t built over a long drawn out period of time, but built with a leap of faith.

We share an unspoken Bond.




So to the girl, whom I am talking about, this one is for you. Just in case by some chance your up late at night wondering just as I  am what we share, or maybe this is all in my head, but at least now you know how I feel.

Become Enchanted.

I write to express myself, and to release the constant thoughts that   seem to bounce back in forth in my mind in an abnormal way. Reality is a lovely place, but if i  do say so myself, nothing can beat the place i go when i write.  That  block of  time of mental vacation cant be put into words, no matter how good of a writer i claim to be.  However unexplainable, that time means the world to me, and if anyone can take away any type of emotion from the words that develop during that time; I couldn’t be more grateful.