I Want To Become A Mandela Effect. Delete My Account, Delete All Posts. Have No Trace I Existed, But

"Sometimes, I wish I could lend you my voice

Lend you my heart

And lend you my choice"

She placebo on my effect til I feel like something happened

And the fleeting feeling I get from writing what's on my mind getting it out like a cleanse like I'm vomiting up all the bottled up things I wanted to say to you after being sick for so so long the coldness of your embrace or rather your lack thereof one will fade with the warm summer weather and the flowers blooming in my grandmother's backyard the wrinkles on her hands remind me of the passing time I'll never see the wrinkles on your hands someone else will I'll never see the ring on your hand but I hope it's glistening like the light in your eyes when you mention music

Constant comparing and contrasting it's like every stranger I meet I look for you maybe they have the same colored eyes or a similar sounding voice and suddenly I'm in love until I remeber it's not you and again I'm in the back of the classroom and I know I'm not crazy the way you laughed and told jokes in my ear and we never paid attention to the teachers and you borrowed my pen and wore my braclets and smelt of my perfume and suddenly I'm back in my room and I know I'm not crazy the way you'd tell me what you like and what you want to do and suddenly I am crazy and we don't talk and you are a stranger the one I'm looking for you in and I don't know you at all

I'm not made to sit at my desk and listen to someone else drawl on and on about something for 45 minutes

I'm not meant to sit in a room with 200 other kids and be forced to go back to our separate classrooms after 30 minutes of eating mystery food

I'm not meant to be forced to toss a football back and forth or run a track

I'm meant to read and write and sit in tree houses and wander in fields

I'm meant to wear flower crowns and eat berries and olives all day

I'm meant to befriend the trees and deers and paint with flowers

I'm not made to sit in school

In a place where my voice doesn't matter

I'll use the poems I wrote about you to fuel the bonfire I'm having with my friends and watch the ashes go up and fall back down on them like gray snow

The ashes of the words I wanted to say to you get caught in their hair and makes the smell linger even after the night has died down and the fire is out

I'll cut apart the braclets I made you and use them to make matching necklaces and earrings for my friends and get happy everytime they wear them

The beads I wanted to see on your wrists will shimmer on theirs like a little reminder

I'll play your favorite song for my friends the one you were always humming in class next to me and add it to our shared playlist

The song I'll now associate with my friends

And I'll cut out every part of you from my life and you'll never had existed

Everything that was yours is theirs because there is no more you

And maybe soulmates weren't meant to fall in love but rather to have a connection a silent one an eyes glancing across the room a quiet but so so deadly spark that poured upon with a single word of gasoline could explode maybe we were meant to walk by eachother and say sorry when our shoulders bumped and take a little bit of each other's souls with us when we left and look for each other in the eyes of every stranger we meet and think about the girl we bumped into

"In a small cafe at a location so remote it stands in the middle of the middle of nowhere, John - a man in a hurry - is at a crossroads. Intent only on refueling before moving along on his road trip, he finds sustenance of an entirely different kind. In addition to the specials of the day, the cafe menu lists the questions all diners are encouraged to consider:

Why are you here?

Do you fear death?

Are you fulfilled?"