Tell everyone you have ever met that you will never find the things you have lost. Tell them about the time you lost the color from your eyes, how it drained out one night and stained your pillowcase. You had been dreaming again about Mars, about exploration, about maps that no one could ever read. Tell them about the places you have lost, the ones you knew as a child which have since slipped off of maps. There was that lake that is gone now and when you drove past it, there were trees that must have been growing for years upon years upon years. You can’t tell where the loss ends and the map begins.
Tell everyone you will ever meet about how you believe in 27 things but that those things are constantly in flux. You believe one day that the ghosts outside your bedroom door are telling stories about the end of the world. You believe there are no such thing as ghosts. You believe the stories are actually about the first time the ghosts fell in love. You believe that the end of the world is the same as love. You believe every story you have ever overheard.
Tell everyone you will never meet that there are some things you will never be able to explain: the color of someone’s eyes, the sound of voices in the hallway and how they felt as soothing to you as warm tea, the look upon faces when you pass them riding in a bus going in the opposite direction, how people can look so beautiful when you only see them for a moment, how everyone’s story makes you want to simultaneously laugh and weep.
Tell someone, anyone, everyone, what you meant when you said that you wanted to love the world more even than the things you lost.
(title is stolen from Milton)