String and Clay

I work at the dry cleaners and that is where I met you, because you work there too. You weren't what I was expecting to fall in love with. You have a charm. You don't know you do. Well, you know you're charming but you are charming not in the way that you think you are charming. And it's not the 1950's-lettermans-jacket charming. It's your very own brand, like Tide, or PF Flyers. But those are my brands. Your brand is the brand where you tell me your plans, your problems, and you wear your imperfections on your sleeve. I wish I could do that. And you show me knew things that you know, and I don't. I love to learn though. I like to think about what you tell me. I especially remember the day where the store was slow, and we weren't busy.  It was just me and you and there were no Audreys and    Danielles or Carlys to get in the way. I liked it, but it was a bit scary for me, and maybe boring for you. But that's why it was scary for me. To be in the dry cleaners with just you and me, with not much to do, I don't want you to be bored of me. I want to be interesting. I want to be the maze that you want to discover. I want you to uncover my soul piece by piece until you uncover the entire painting. I want you to think it's beautiful. Like the Sistine Chapel.  They say we create ourselves. I want you to think I am a Michael Angelo with my own spirit. I think that's why I remember that thursday at the dry cleaners. It's because it was my first chance to show you a lesser-known part of me, and to see if you liked it. I choked though. So instead we cut out Roxberry banners from their flyers, and then we took those knives and cut up cardboard boxes. I built houses out of the pieces you had already sliced in thirds. You chuckled at me, and teased me a little. So I threw the pieces away. "Too young..." I muttered in my head regretfully, "too young." You never knew that, though. And you went on and told me about the world and what it needed and how you were going to change a bit of it.  Well, you changed me. I am now in a state of recreation, where what I was has eroded because you showed me a different walk of life, but I can't accept your walk of life either. Not now, anyway. So I am in a period of recreation where I am taking bits and pieces of clay and string and forming something that I am not sure what it is yet. God knows. But He's not telling me everything about it. He just gives me hints and lets me discover the rest. It's a restless game of riddles we play. Restless because he gives me straight answers and I confuse them myself and solve them again only to find that what God said in the first place was right all along. But I wanted the experience so I took the tiles an made a rubix cube and solved it again. I can't even solve a real rubix cube. Only metaphorical ones. I'm in the middle of one right now and you are one of the sides. I don't know which color yet, but it's still up for grabs, I guess. You told me your favorite color was deep purple. There's not that color on a rubix cube. You'll have to choose a different color or not be on there at all, I suppose. Maybe you are the tricky extra color, the joke square that someone put on so that I could never solve the rubix cube. Do I want to take it off, though? Do I mind if this puzzle gets solved? Maybe not. Maybe that's why I write in a notebook now, and why I kept the Roxberry banners we cut out.