aosid's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-

Lisa.

"they say it's five centimeters per second." you'll never really leave me. and truth be told, i will never really try to make you.

i feel old, expired. the days when my possible futures branched above and out uncountably are likely over. the (technical, meaningless, apt) phrase that comes to mind is "nowhere dense." given a life i might choose, it is not certain that i can approach it from here. but that's fine, that's really just a feeling. stems from fatigue, stress, blood loss, and that jeering depression.

but even alone, in view of my full withered twenty-three years, i can still glow, just a little. in august, two thousand and four, there was a thunderstorm. we lay on the hood of my car and told each other the story of that old dark cloud. i reached out: one naive hand twined with another. we chased each other through boundless fields; we wandered through unmapped night-parks; we reveled in every sense of autumn; we left no frozen lake untread upon. you showed me your favorite tree. we kissed. six perfect months.

the story should just end there, but can't: i tore you apart. there was a year of silence, then august. we came back, just for one night - the ghosts of us, perhaps allowed to walk the earth again on some auspicious anniversary (which you could have named at the time). i think you needed to get close enough to return whatever i had left in your heart. but you gave too much, and now you're forever in me. and our yearly coffee, that's what pulls me home the hardest in december.

that's a future i hope never to abandon: the one where we haunt Clark Drive and share a baguette and hear each others' heartbeats again. it burns again when lilac-scent whirls on warmish breezes, and it erodes my every life now like they are sandstone.

so that's the answer, whenever anyone wonders what is wrong. august, two thousand and four. heavy, vital august.

11:30 p.m. - 2011-05-20

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

latest entry

about me

archives

notes

DiaryLand

contact

random entry