Two.

Why are reminders necessary? Why must I ask again? This is a two-way street. Well, it's been leaning more towards one-way for some time, but for a second I thought the ends would start to meet. I don't need to be the number one priority. I don't need to be at the top of every list. I just want to know that my name can be found somewhere on the paper. I just want to know that if the data table were to be updated, my name would still be in relevant font. I just want to know that my role is still evident, that my part still needs to be played, and that my voice still makes the right amount of decibels. I want to know that I still fit in somewhere. I want to know that my existence still somehow coincides with the one you've gotten there. I want to know that I don't need to put a neon Post-It note next to everything I do, say, think, or feel, just to make sure that it's still out there to you. I want to know that you don't have to highlight every little thing I offer, just to make sure that it doesn't get sent to the recycling bin. Because I'm tired. And I tried. And I still am trying. Because you're not going to be the one I left behind. Go ahead. Be my guest. You can leave me behind, but this isn't a give-and-take situation. If you wish to leave me behind, I'll still find a way to drag you along with me. Because I am going somewhere in my life, but that doesn't have to exclude you. I can still see self-actualization and self-improvisation with you still lingering around. You're not some bad idea I came up with. You're not the chains that keep my legs tirelessly dragging across the floor. You're not the random pebbles I seem to stumble upon when passing through a sidewalk. You're not some creases, eraser marks, or smears within the papers that I write and the to-do lists I utilize to live my life. You're not. You're something to me, and I haven't quite grasped what that really is, but if there's one thing I do have a grasp of, it's what you mean to me. Though I can't seem to find all the right words at all the right times, I'm trying to. And I won't grow tired of seeking to find out what all those words are, even if the words aren't out there. Because I'm hoping that one day you'll be hear listening to the one man show I've been putting on for you, even when you didn't buy a ticket to watch. I'm hoping that one day you'll come around, because I promise - the books told me that lightning doesn't strike the same place twice. So I won't let it happen.

One.

And this is due in part to my loss of words. To the moments where I can't find what words to explain, to describe, to narrate. To the moments where I sit and contemplate on what seems to be nothing tangible. To the moments crowded with thoughts of this and that, of her and him, of you and me. To the moments that can no longer be reiterated. To the moments that were once long gone, but have decided to haunt me. To the moments where being enough was quite sufficient, really. To the moments I miss and to the moments I've missed.