August 10, 2019
Do you remember when you met me?
When I met you? I don’t remember it so much as a meeting as you were just already there.
I was, yes.
After high school, then. That’s when you showed up. That’s when life began. That’s when I started thinking of myself as a person. That’s when I started thinking of others as people, with their own motivations, their own desires, their own incentives and failings.
And you made it through.
After a fashion.
You’re here, now. You made it through.
Touching.
Hey now, don’t be rude. Aren’t you supposed to be my ally?
I am your ally. I’m just not your friend.
Fair enough.
So you showed up after high school. You showed up after life slid sideways through puberty. I went digging, you know. To find this out.
Oh?
Yeah. June 2004. There you are. I say,
The navy blue I've been seeing at waist level in front of me and to my left is contentment. I'm not entirely sure that it being omnipresent is a good thing, however, considering the colors it's mixed with. Am I really content with longing and hopelessness? It's not out of the question, I suppose that it could just be another aspect of my personality. But that just brings up the question of whether or not it's something I ingrained into myself through habit, something where I just kinda accepted that feeling such things is normal, okay, and what I want; or is it something I was born with, or that we're all born with? Is it a side effect of love, expecting impossible desires and the blind hopelessness that follows the end of a four year undertaking?
And you replied…?
You’re rambling.
So pleased you remember.
You’re rambling.
I suppose I am. But there you were. You said You’re rambling to which I replied “Guilty, conspirator.” And that was that. That was us. We never greeted each other. Why would we?
I kept digging, too. You stuck around for a year. I saw you off and on until June 2005. In October, 2004, I said that empathy is cooler in person. Why? you asked. So you can verify? Don’t you trust your feelings? I said I didn’t know, and then I begged you not to go.
Everyone always leaves, don’t they?
Perhaps. It’s good to hear from you again. Even after fourteen years, I’ve missed you.
And what was the last thing I said to you?
I was going to call you emo, or suicidal, but no, not goth. It was when Ash and Shannon and I found a house to move into.
I believe I also called you a prick.
Was I?
Yes.
Am I still?
Yes, but a different kind.
You’re as chipper now as you were then.
Yes, but a different kind.