mostly nonsense

CCXXVIII.

We’re going to have so much time together.

At least, that is what I tell myself when I miss you. Loneliness springs out of nowhere like the claws on a cat. We’ll have time, time to fall in love with boys in cities and fight in cities and live the weirdest, craziest, fucking-unimaginable-to-our-young-and-impressionable-minds lives in cities. I’m so happy to be with you; when I laugh at your stupid haircut, it is a prayer, a song, a thank you note.

I miss new orange paint and knowing I could always rule the world and eating bland meals because the salt was suspiciously blue, at a table of twelve meant for eight. I don’t like the way people feel, but I didn’t mind it then. The mural was ugly. The mural was really, really ugly.

The last week of school we watched tv in the dark in the same room I’d sneak into on Saturday mornings to sit next to my father and grin his grin, identical self-satisfied smiles, the same room where they’d told us about our futures (and how silly it seems now to sit in a circle and make declarations, how proud and how pretentious, when really no one has any idea where they’ll be a month from now, let alone at the five-year reunion, asking “how did you turn out?” and everyone is lying anyway, everyone but us, when they ask how we turned out, we’ll turn out great, right? We’ll turn out great), 

We watched tv in the dark; I drank a soda and fell asleep and woke up feeling lost but safe. We finished it the last day. I cried and touched your hair. It was a thank you note.