Dear Compass,

I have began to resent you.

When I was younger, I thought you were meant to guide people wherever they wished to go. I thought all it took was enough determination, enough time, and your needle would learn a new direction.

These past few months have proven me wrong.

There are attractive people everywhere.

I notice them. I'd be lying if I said I didn't.

For a while, I wondered if meeting enough people would eventually make me forget. Isn't it reasonable? After all, there are billions of us in this world—surely, one of them can change my heart?

Many people arrive that make the future seem less lonely than it did the day before—they make me feel leaving the past is possible. Some make me wonder if life would've been easier had your needle chose them instead. But, yeah, you never did.

You just tremble and hesitate just enough to make me believe you've finally learned a new direction, then, as if nothing had happened, you just lead me back to where I used to, again.

I've watched people blame you for leading them astray.

They curse you—for your stubborness, whenever your needle refuses to agree with the road they've already chosen. You are broken as wanting to arrive somewhere is not enough to change where the north points.

Is this why I have grown to resent you? Everytime I look at your needle, I see my own heart reflected back at me. No matter how often I tell myself to let them go, something inside me quivers before settling where it always has.

If they were to walk into the room while I was talking to someone else, I already know what would happen. The conversation would continue but the needle would tremble, and before I could stop it, my heart had already left to meet them.

The Frontman