Though I’ve written many things about this Man I really don’t know what to say anymore. How can I really say, to a stranger, how much this someone does for me. It’s ironic, in my past of undying lies and never follow through commitments, it tends to show that my life is never something that is forever. This man is so far away and I really shouldn’t feel the way I do for him. I shouldn’t be sitting here, on my laptop, surrounded by his pictures, listening to his music and obsessing over how much I think I am right for him. As much as I think he’s right for me...there is never a way out. I may disagree to the point I am the only one who feels this way for him, which would be true. Maybe I’m not the only one crying over him night after night, wondering what I’m doing wrong, in order to learn I still will love him. As many prayers I send to God and as many poems of him I share to others, it won’t make it any stronger as I make it out to be. Sure, I complain my life is nothing but obsessions and desire for something I know I can’t have, and that’s true, I know I can’t have Isaac. Isaac Hanson. I truly know this guy from Oklahoma will never see my face and the other way around. Maybe I’m facing a curse to keep going, still writing these stupid poems and listening to the same music for years. But tell me, if it’s what makes me happy, ruining my life is exactly the opposite. So, living my life free and not living my life wondering if this twenty year old man will love me and still sleep through great dreams is my fear of living. If my life were normal and/or perfect, I suppose I’d be lost without my fear, loving someone who won’t love me.
If someone else cares for someone, tell me that there isn’t a way for something to be right. I’m sitting here, wishing I could be right next to this man, this dream, who I’ve totally made on my own. Those tabloids and headlines mean nothing to me, as to anyone else. Those lies about who loves who and what they’re doing...I guess that shouldn’t matter. Look, I know that they may only be ‘just a band’ but how ‘just a band’ can you get? They are truly as real as they come. Isaac is the purest one out there, right now, that I can see in my perfect little world. Of course, in my perfect little world, I could actually see him. I could feel him and touch him myself and it’d be normal. To me, normal is something I’ve always wanted but no one has had. I’ve always dreamed something in my life would turn right. When it actually did...it left so fast I didn’t have time to know that it’d go anywhere. I just made no sense, didn’t I? I made exactly no sense and I really want to tell you where I’m coming from. Who exactly? Well, let’s see...not only would I be letting everything out in this stupid laptop I got for half price, used, I’d be telling myself and all who cares why I feel letting go is the only way. Why I think the end is where I’m at.
Maybe it was the eyes...maybe it was those fantasies of ever having someone love me in the first place. When I was ten, with those googly eyes “I love you guys” meant “I love you Tiffany.” It just might’ve sounded better that it came from Isaac’s mouth. Though I was overly immature about the way everything should be I kept pushing for it to be right. Nothing was ever right...I’d take my chances and start all over but I’d never follow through. That’s where commitments became a problem. Loving this teenage boy was no problem...waking up with a smile and new day was.
I stressed the point over and over I wasn’t perfect but nor was anyone else. The day I saw his face I made myself lie. He was perfect. To me, this man was gold. I suppose gold came in all shapes, he was well-rounded with nothing wrong, something I’d love to have. Though I didn’t hold those signs at his concerts or screamed louder than humanly possible, nor could I even (Living in this middle of everywhere place was awful, he’d never be near at this hell hole), I did stress the point I was an Isaac fan. There were three boys in this ‘rock group’ I was ten...I thought nothing mattered because I’d never come close. Sitting around the television making jokes of who’s hot and who’s not became a joke, never serious. So joking about that little blond girl from the boy band made me giggle a little. Joking about the middle one getting tatoos and having sex with the roadies made me laugh. The thought about Ike and me together...was surely a heart attack. I couldn’t get over how that was a lie and how it could become a joke, even if it never happened. I was sensitive to the thought of ever experiencing life with this man. I call Ike a man because he is. I’m a girl. I’m 14. What more can I say...I’d look stupid if I stood in front of Isaac, little girl act and finally acting true to him, saying I love him for the 14 hundredth time he probably heard it. It’s getting old, I’m sure. If I were him I’d get the money and run. All people want him for his either his body or his brothers. Though I may think I’m right and every little Hanson freak is wrong I could still go living my way. I think I love Isaac, people may think that too. If that’s true, I really hope they don’t go through their lives the way I do. I wake up from a dream of Isaac almost dead...nearly saving my life and yet I know it’s not true. The dream was so real to me, but shrugging it off became a ritual, I was only 11. Wondering if whomever you loved would die anytime soon was something normal. I’d bring posters of this boy band home almost every day. That’s why I’d bend over backwards for my allowance, so I could love something everyday. The funny thing is, it’s become my worst enemy loving who I do now. All I have to say is, if only he knew that I never knew what I was doing in the first place.
Taking care of my life, his own and ours in one would be wonderful. I wouldn’t feel so crappy and I wouldn’t exactly have to wonder why my life sucks so bad because it wouldn’t in the first place. I’d testify every single lie I’ve told to live my life proud in order to have him in my arms. I just wish that I could live like a normal being, maybe a normal Hanson fan, whatever that means. Even though jumping up and down to their fun songs every day of my life became a fun, never bad, thing to do I hadn’t included anybody or anything else but the three boys I found perfect. I was locked in a hole I had conveniently lost the key to. I had to keep climbing to be happier and I guess that didn’t go too well. Years later, I’m still stuck at the bottom and for some reason, there’s no way out.
Tell me what I should be dreaming. I’m 14 years old, I’ve lost two of my sisters, I’ll never see my only brother again, my parents are at each other’s voices every chance they get, I’m suffering nowhere-to-go-syndrome and a case of lost-everything desiese...and I’ve lost the best thing that I ever had possesion over. I’ve cured all my dreams by the lies I tend to believe, forever. Okay, so what, we’re 6 years apart. But will I ever know that one day he’d actually care this 14 year old would do anything for him? Okay, that’s extreme. I wouldn’t die for him, I went through that and decided it’s not worth it. I’d rather suffer. As much as I write about dying being the best way out, it’s not. I was scared when I had the true chance. Trust me, if I really wanted to kill myself for the man I’ve loved for almost four years, I’d have to tell you the hell isn’t a place liars go to. I’ve lied my whole life believing myself I’d get somewhere in life. That I’d be in his arms any day now...any day.
Exactly what is a cure when you aren’t sure what you’re dying from in the first place. His soul is the one I want to love...I really am not sure who this man is but what I do know is he has saved me. Sure, you’re thinking that this means nothing and once again, I’m like the others. I’m sure, if I was like the others, most of us extreme Isaac fans would be jumping over chairs just because he doesn’t care. Look, I know he doesn’t care. I seriously do. I really don’t care if he cares now or not because he has no reason to, until I give one to him, I guess it’s okay. I promised myself, well, not promised, but I did once tell myself that I wouldn’t let my life get too far into this whole ‘life with Ike’ thing. If I knew that I’d be here, sitting on my bed with a half price used laptop then I’m sure I wouldn’t be having the dreams I’m having. Trust me, there’s more to come. How many love stories could I possible make up? I’m sure one of us has to die sooner or later.
It’s not like I want us to be some kind of immortal being put together by fate and God. If it were that way, we’d be together for a year now. Yeah, I’ve tried the whole “Ask God for what you want and you’ll get it” but I forgot to keep in mind “Be careful what you wish for” because in the first place I really didn’t think what I wished for had an impact so much that it’d actually come true. So what, I still have that special star to shine upon me. And I do dream of my sisters day in and day out...but whether God would answer me this horrible wish, I never knew. Whatever I did wrong, I wish I could do it again. Yeah, that’s right, I really think talking to Isaac was my fear of a lifetime and it was wrong. It was wrong to ever dream that I’d ever get to talk with him in the first place. That brings me to the moral of my life: It was wrong loving Isaac in the first place.
What could I do when this blond haired brown eyed deep voiced man came across my path? And really, all I’m telling you is what he looks like and what others make him to be. I’d say he’s literally my passion for love. I do have this passion inside me I’ve kept for him for four years, right now, I guess he’s heard that a million times. But, can I say enough that I really mean it? I’m afraid to tell him, that’s why I think it’s safe to make it end, forever.
If the love of my life turns away and never comes back, at least not the same I saw him in the first place, it defeats the whole purpose in telling my idol, or love, how I feel. How can you say something, want the other to say it back, and be sure that it’ll actually happen. So, here I am, waiting for a day that something will change. He’s far away. He’s too far away. Maybe I’m giving up hope or overreacting, but tell me, isn’t it safe to not know if you loved the right person or to know you loved the wrong one? I’ll always love him, he’ll just never know, or I won’t