East Beach
I Didn’t Need Or Use This Google® Map, I Thought I Could Remember Without It, And I Did
East Beach, Galveston Texas
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I once watched a woman who made things online for years. I wanted to get to know her, someday, but other than 3-4 random emails over many many many months, I never gave it much effort. You see, I didn’t want to be another random male follower to be placated to or ignored, as she has thousands of those already… I wanted to mean more than that. I knew she would have to find me. I even told a story or two of metaphor about her, for her, long before all did happen.
One day, she emailed me, she had finally seen me correctly. This started an avalanche of emails each way, I would not text first, I would not call first, I would not video chat first, I would not come see her in person first. She did, each of these things, first.
Before we ever met, she was once on a drive to a beach. She called me to keep her company on her drive, told me where she was heading and where she was. I was at my computer so I looked up where she was and I told her so. I told her as I looked at the street views of her drive what was coming up, things to look for and that I was in that sky up above her, happily watching. She was getting close and going through light after light, I kept pointing out things and she would tell me when she saw them. She told me this was romantic, I told her I agreed. She then got to where she was going. She parked her car and described what she saw, I told her the last view of what I saw where she was parked as the street view ended here, a look into the sun moment from the robot of Google®. I sent her the screen shot and later when she saw it, she said, that was it.
This Is Me Looking Up In The Sky For You Watching Me As I Drove There Where I Watched You
I Couldn’t Hear You Nor Could I See That Image Making Robot In That Sky Up There
I asked her to make a photograph of herself for me there. She did, so I think anyway, as later I would get a series of photographs of her on the beach, each with my name, Jonathan, in their title. I liked this. Too much. If in fact they were made there that day and if they were for me.
After I first met her and was still watching what she makes a short time later from back where I used to live, I saw her tell a story with one of these images of herself (with my name removed from the title) where she used to share. I had made her pictures in secret too that I had never shared before I saw her share what I thought was for only us. Since she shared first this too, so would I from now on. This image of herself has since been removed, along with so much more, but I remember it well. Too well. It spoke of a love not good enough for her, in detail. I did not know if this picture and story were about me even to this day, I thought it safe to assume it was as, well, this image was made for me, wasn’t it? I asked her about it once, to try and understand her better. I was then told to not ever question her or what she makes, she always had a way to not directly answer anything, even when she demanded the directness I gave her. I went back recently to look up the private answer to the private question I asked her directly so long ago now, are you involved or seeing anyone? To not my surprise, I didn’t learn by relooking.
Thy Public Secret Comparisons + Thy Public Bragging Of Secret Misleads = Thy Honor Carved In Public Stone
Over a year later since this beach drive of hers I watched, I told her now that I am in Texas, I hoped to see this place someday, with my own eyes, to go there myself, even if I were to go alone. She told me not to go. She begged me not to go even. She told me this place was “Hers.” That it is this way because of the others she takes there. I didn’t, never did and or no longer meant enough for this place. So for a almost a year now since she begged me this, this same almost year since I last saw her in person, I didn’t go here, no matter how much I wanted to.
Wave Out & Wave In
In this same last year we communicated (too much again over glass given what I have learned now), I have seen her say people don’t own idea’s or things photographed and that she likes to steal what others make to better herself and that she would like it if you steal from her as it makes her go make more things. This I do believe about her. You see, as much as she begged me not to ever go here, she went to all kinds places in her mind and eyes and ways, that were far more special to me than any actual physical place ever could be. For this same last year, each time I saw her do this, regularly, more than I can count regularly, I begged begged begged her to stop stop stop, as it hurt, too much too much too much. I stopped telling stories once for 60 days and the second story back, she did it again. Six months after that, I stopped my site again for a second 60 days. Then she did it again. She never did just stop, in fact, me telling her made her go make more, each time and find another thing that was just something I made for her, that she would now make to then give to another, like only I gave to her. I know she knows this all, as I told her, explained to her, again and again and again, for a year now, directly and privately. Yet she couldn’t or wouldn’t give me what I gave her and from where I sit now so far away, that’s all I see.
A Hole Maybe You Didn’t Dig Here I Found, Without Your Secret Husband Playing In It
I have stopped even looking at anything she does anymore for longer than I ever have after watching for many many many years. I know and remember what was there before we met and what is there and how and secretly why after. The things she makes with her eyes and her brain and her body just no longer mean what they once did after I learned all I do now know.
I didn’t see or feel what I thought I would here.
But finally, I went to this beach. Alone.
I got bitten by too many misquotes.
I hope these bites don’t scar, too.
The Sky Above The Bay This Day I Did Make Star Trails
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The East Beach I Now Know Is Not The East Beach You Did
“Alex Didn’t Find His Dream, His Dream Found Him”
I Am Not What I Once Was, I Miss The Before You Me