thank you is never enough

I stumbled swaying onto cobblestone streets, illuminated underneath a flickering lamppost, and I saw twinkling stars dancing on the quivering water in a nearby canal.  Quiet was all around me, but it wasn't the dangerous kind, and it wasn't the Simon & Garfunkel kind, and it wasn't the desperate kind.  I could have sworn that just a moment ago, I was losing it back in the gnawing comfort of a too comfortable prison in the boundaries of Draper to Highland.  This felt so different, like I had walked right into a time warp. And I began to hear lingering voices around the corner of the dilapidated towering buildings.  I followed the wispy words, picking up the pace until I was sprinting.  There was something growing inside of me, but I didn't know how that could possibly be when I was so dry inside.  I kept running, but I could never catch up with the voices.  So I admired from afar and I craned my neck and strained my ears and I listened.  I listened and I felt.  I wrung my hands and I thought.  I heard the beating of hearts in the flap of a bird's wings and I saw the sorrow in the sky's frowning disposition.  I felt the tangled strings that connected me to you and you never knew it.  I crouched down to touch the dusty ground, wet with a single tear, and I knew I was touching history and stories and memories.  I was touching the steps you took just a moment too late for me to call out the name that you hid in.  I was on my own journey, wandering free with no one to tell me what to do.  And I learned how to come back to myself when it was the last thing I wanted to do.  I learned to read slower and over and over and understand before I spoke.  I learned to see without apathy clouding my spirits.  I learned that people care too much and not at all.  I learned that I'm even more flawed than I give myself credit for and I learned that I can change.  I learned that there's even more that I don't know and even more that I can't grasp but that I should never stop trying.  And I never wanted to see the Eiffel Tower or the Catacombs or the Louvre.  I wanted to see me and I wanted to see you.  I wanted to see the dark alleys only secret lovers jogged down.  I wanted to see the little struggling cafes and smell the coffee and hear the soft French chatter.  I wanted to ask a stranger for the answers and I wanted to lay down and sleep on a narrow street with the night as the best blanket.  All I ever wanted were the little things.

And now when I listen to The Cure, I think of Lexi, and when I listen to 17, I think of Addie.  When I hold my crayons I think of Sarah Loveday.  When I look at the moon and wonder what she feels and muse over the meaning of beauty, I think of Erin, and when I watch Andrea Gibson or see bleachers, I think of Sarah Matthews.  When I remember second chances I think of Gabi.  When I remember second chances and Dorothy and floaties, I think of Kenzie.  When I see sad blue eyes and worn out crayon boxes,  I think of Sawyer.  When I pore over sanity and living and fun, I think of Hannah. When I pass IHOP and remember Freaks and Geeks, I think of Taylor.  When midnight comes calling, I think of Elise.  When I reflect on annihilation, I think of Kelsey and when I reflect on worth, I think of Megan.  When I envision Salt Lake City walks alone and blasting rap music in the car, I think of McKay.  When I sort through the names of flowers, I think of Heather.  When I see discolored soles, I think of Austin.  When I imagine living for the moments, I think of Braeden.  When I want to watch Say Anything, I think of Chase, and when I recall 500 Days of Summer I think of Mikey.  When I'm about to take a risk, I think of Nelson.  When I ponder of Pluto, I think of Griffin and when I look for faraway planets, I think of Avery.  When I can't get up in the morning or I listen to Derrick Brown, I think of Roah.  When I don't know what's up or down, I go to Max Carol and I wish and wish and wish for him to come back.  But when I think of each of you, it's not just a beautiful song I remember or shaking the dust or looking up at oblivion in new ways or a classroom I stepped in twice.  It's not a false promise that I'll never forget you for so much more than that.  I remember poetry and discovery and passion.  And I love you.  I love you.  I love you.

Paris was never a time warp.  Truth felt so foreign to me that I'd forgotten what it was.  We were in the here, and we were in the now, real as real can be.  Terrified.  Lost.  Broken.  Regretful.  Misunderstood.  Restless.

We are in the here and we are in the now and we are full of stardust.

So long.  And thank you.

- Sam Tse