Now Tell Me You

Take care. I think those are two of the saddest words.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have these five: I want to know you. I think those are some of the sweetest words.


I don’t know you, but I want to. You’ve been nodding in all the right places for a long time, haven’t you. You’re a very good listener — has anyone ever told you that? I appreciate that. I appreciate you. (Those are other words I wish we would say to each other more often.)

I have a friend who always ends her emails by saying now tell me you, and I think it’s just the nicest thing. So. Your turn. Tell me you.

The ocean at the end of your lane — I want to know what it looks like. Specifics, I want specifics. Where is it calm? Where is it NOT calm — where is it all kinds of choppy, actually? Where is it so seriously not settled yet?


Tell me what’s light in your life. What’s heavy? What’s temporary, and what’s permanent?

Tell me what makes your stomach churn, your eyes swim, your voice crack. Where do you go when you need air? Those are the kinds of things I want to know. Where do you go when you go looking for a bridge from here to there, and what do you do when you can’t find one?


I want to know everything, everything you’ll tell me. I wonder if there’s already someone in your life eternally interested in all that goes on in your head. (I really hope so.)

I wonder if you have any rusty parts. Any others you’d still call so brand new. I wonder if you think tarnished things are attractive in their own right.

I want to know what makes you feel shiny and bright and what makes you feel dull. So impossibly dull. (We will steer clear of those things.)


I wonder if any of your dreams been corroded. Blackened a bit, over time. Is it possible you’ve gone back and spit-shined some of your memories? I want to know that too.

Has someone ever told you that they’d safeguard all your secrets? Watch over your dreams, while you dropped off to sleep?


I wonder if you believe that our lives — so carefully constructed — are really just built on happenstance. I wonder if you’re 100% sure you’re happening in the right place.

I wonder if you’re someone who crosses the street to walk in the sun. I wonder if you’re drawn to places that remind you how big the sky is.


I wonder if you think old habits die hard. If you’ve ever grown tired of being so predictable. If you’ve ever gotten good and sick of yourself, for one reason or another. (What did you do about it, and how did you get yourself to do it?)

I wonder if you’ve ever realized that you’re really only oscillating between office and apartment, grocery store and gym, weekday and weekend. What woke you up? What made you feel so certain there must be something more? Something major, missing.


I wonder how long you’d let a pity party rage. I wonder if you’ve ever written one. I wonder if you recognized it for what it was partway through, or whether it took you all the way up until the time you absently titled it accordingly. I wonder whether you dragged it over to the trash, deleted it promptly.

I wonder if you’re afraid of being exposed, or if you’re dying to be seen.

I wonder if you think it’s always necessary to understand, pick apart. I wonder what you think is necessary. I wonder what’s necessary, what’s big, what’s important, to you in your life.

I wonder if your posture is generally good. If sometimes you slip and sit like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. I wonder what’s weighing on you.


I wonder what the big fear is, for you.

I wonder if you’re a little lonely. I wonder if that’s something you’d really rather not broadcast all over the Internet. I wonder if you know it’s okay to take up space.

I wonder if there is beauty in your life. Something palpable, pulsing between the mountain and the moon.


I wonder how many times you’ve gone from crying to laughing, and how fast. I wonder how many times you’ve picked yourself back up, kept going.

I wonder if you have an ex-something. An ex-maybe, or an ex-almost.

I wonder what your relationship with yourself is like. If you’d call it a good one, or if yeah, you know, and you’re working on it.

I wonder if you can love what’s beautiful and what’s unsightly. What’s warm and what’s scarred. What’s bruised and what’s better.

I wonder what you want, what you’re really looking for. Whether it’s someone who just isn’t about to let you walk around with broccoli in your teeth, or whether it’s something more. Much more.


I wonder what, if anything, makes you impatient. I wonder how you get yourself to be patient again.

I wonder how you go about the business of living. Whether you make it complicated or simple. I wonder who you look up to, and why.


I wonder if there is someone out there still so capable of stirring you up. I wonder if you’re ready to forget, and be forgotten too.

I wonder if there’s someone wonderful and waiting right around the corner, quietly wishing you would be.

{La Push via @alexstrohl, St. John’s Bridge via @robybabcock & @ngreener, Moon, Sunset Sky, & Mt. Hood via @robbyzabala, Portland via @rangerrikk — all on Instagram.}


4 thoughts on “Now Tell Me You

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