A mug tonight. It is astoundingly well made, and I will keep it. But as an act of defiance, I will not throw out any old mugs. Not even one.
So I’m sitting with new friends in a car I’ve never been in talking about their first high school dances. They’re talking about what songs were playing, and it’s always John Mayer if you were wondering.
I don’t remember what song was playing.
And I know you’d say that’s cause I’m oblivious or cold, or whatever. That I don’t pay attention to those sorts of things. That’s not it.
I remember every detail of you. How you were so resistant and hesitant to go out on the floor, your hair all done up in your mother’s borrowed jewelry because I hadn’t bought you any yet, on a night I drug you to like so many.
I remember living that moment in the movie where two people are in a crowded room, where I knew there were so many people around us, but all I could see was you. I remember every step we took, the way the light moved in your eyes, the way your hands felt in mine.
It’s dumb, I know. Neither of us can dance, you didn’t want to be there, and now we’re not. That was so many years ago it feels like another life. But I remember being so head over heels in love with you then, and after. Not high school romance love, but truly, madly, deeply.
And I think in the end that makes so much of the bullshit worth it. We’re never going to be like that again. We stopped working somewhere, and I drug it out, and we both made mistakes and suffered for it. We weren’t perfect. Aren’t perfect. Never can be.
But I hope someday you’re sitting with strangers and think of me from a lifetime ago and smile too.
I had to return the things I couldn’t bear to look at anymore. I’d like to reminisce about the good times and the happier times but….your final words are stuck in my head.
But I kept the bear you gave me when I was sick.
And your old hoodie I accidentally (on purpose) shrunk to keep a piece of you with me when I sleep.
You’re a fucking moron, Arian.
Just let it go…
It’s strange for all the times you said and did worse to me that my final slip up has to repeat in your head. I never wanted us to end on angry words, let alone mine, I just got tired of fighting. I just got tired.
In the end: I’m a moron for having said it. I’m sorry. For all the head games, the anger, the cheating, the cursing… I still wouldn’t have chosen those to be my last words to you.
I hope one day you can look back on the happier times. There were plenty of them. I think we really were happy together for a lot of the time, even if as individuals we didn’t work. Maybe we’d have been better friends, better siblings, better if if if. It doesn’t really matter because ifs will always be ifs. We were what we were. We are what we are. For better and for worse.
I loved you more than myself, more than I should have at times. We both made mistakes. Looking back, it’s what made us who we are. So maybe it’s good in a way.
I hope you’ll let the bad times go, and I hope I will. I hope we can remember the good times.
I heard you saying “no regrets”, and I wondered if you knew when you got it tattooed on you it’d hurt more to get removed.
The holidays are over, and I’m ready to get back in the swing of things. I’ve got big ideas that have been brewing on the back-burners since early December and I want to get started: So could the rest of the world shut up about their feet hurting and please start moving at 400mph with me? K, thanks.
I believe this morning was my first full fledged mental meltdown of the holiday season… Only a week til Christmas and I managed to lose it at home instead of work!
Serious signs of progress y’all.
So tonight I went out drinking (1) with my crew (2), and eventually (3) ended up hanging over a toilet (4) with the shower running (5) and my clothes in the next room (6).
2. Okay, so two of us…
3. Early, ‘cause we have work yo.
4. Cleaning it, it’s been about a week.
5. Cleaning it also, see above.
6. Set them out tonight so that I’ll have more time tomorrow morning.
Yep. I’m practically giddy that I got to clean my bathroom and am in bed before midnight. I think I’m bad at this whole “my twenties” thing.
Ahem… Yes please!