Okay, I don’t know his name, so I’m just gonna call him Dreamboy. He’s the protagonist of this little anecdote from way back in November.I’m not sure how many of you guys were around to read that or care, but he’s the Sunglass Hut boy. Anyway, I had to go to Dadeland Mall today with my mom because she wanted this dress from Macy’s that they didn’t have in her size anywhere else. I thought about Dreamboy, but I realized the odds of him being there, on this specific day, months later, was unlikely… so you can imagine the heart attack that ensued when I saw him standing behind the glass counter. My sister wanted Ray Ban’s for Mother’s Day so I spent like half an hour there with him, trying on sunglasses, talking and laughing. My sister said she wanted to see these aviators “on a face” so I told him to put them on and he thought it was funny so he did and I took the picture. Eventually, my mom came back to cockblock, so I said thank you and we left. The thing is, I can’t really go back. Under what pretense? I cannot buy another pair of sunglasses. These cute little encounters are becoming rather expensive. Now, I’m just wondering- is this still considered a missed connection? I miss him and I don’t even know him. That probably counts.

Okay, I don’t know his name, so I’m just gonna call him Dreamboy. He’s the protagonist of this little anecdote from way back in November.I’m not sure how many of you guys were around to read that or care, but he’s the Sunglass Hut boy. Anyway, I had to go to Dadeland Mall today with my mom because she wanted this dress from Macy’s that they didn’t have in her size anywhere else. I thought about Dreamboy, but I realized the odds of him being there, on this specific day, months later, was unlikely… so you can imagine the heart attack that ensued when I saw him standing behind the glass counter.

My sister wanted Ray Ban’s for Mother’s Day so I spent like half an hour there with him, trying on sunglasses, talking and laughing. My sister said she wanted to see these aviators “on a face” so I told him to put them on and he thought it was funny so he did and I took the picture. Eventually, my mom came back to cockblock, so I said thank you and we left. The thing is, I can’t really go back. Under what pretense? I cannot buy another pair of sunglasses. These cute little encounters are becoming rather expensive. Now, I’m just wondering- is this still considered a missed connection? I miss him and I don’t even know him. That probably counts.

You go back to her and I go back to black.

A tiny speck suspended in a sunbeam.

A tiny speck suspended in a sunbeam.

(Source: grayskymorning)

If you don’t want me, you don’t have to have me. I just thought you might feel the same, that’s all.

Always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter.

I feel like Jack during this scene, every day of my life. We have to go back.

I feel like Jack during this scene, every day of my life.

We have to go back.

Remember when your eyeballs didn’t melt into your skull? Good times.

Remember when your eyeballs didn’t melt into your skull?

Good times.

Currently undergoing emotions of the particularly ghey kind~

So, like, I love you guys.

I feel like I share a bond with all of you. It’s so strange. When I write something stupid that I doubt anyone will read, or when I post a part of my past that engulfs me in nostalgia that I feel like no one will understand, and one of you likes it, or comments on it, or whateverthefuck terminology you wanna use for cyberinteraction, I feel like… I dunno… like you know.

Because, well, you do.

You know way more about me than some of my closest friends; it’s that whole talking-to-strangers-is-easier idea. But the thing is, none of you are strangers anymore. You’re my friends. And I wish we could find some magical way to bend the rules of physics and generate a giant hole in the space time contiuum so that we could somehow meet, even for a few fleeting moments, even if it glimmers and fades away at the speed of light, to say:

“Hey, dreamer. Keep calm and carry on, and beware the plastics, and Justin Beiber, and Mr. Golightly’s angry spam threats, and jerks who don’t know how to reblog correctly. Also, thank you… and I adore you.”

See ya.

<3

NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY