its been two years
memories float in and out of girls mind. her name was Erin although her nickname was Rinna. she always liked the uniqueness of the nickname--she felt that it suited her individualist nature. she frequently found herself sitting in front of her hallway window in the second story of her parents' house thinking. she often times supposed that she should have concentrated more on school, college, but she decided what was the point. even her economics major had come to bore her and her restless mind. input and output, as long as one knew the effects of the input the output was a given path of logic, nothing more. the memories now generating thought after thought, three at a time, they were never ending in her mind. she enjoyed them though. it was a relaxing pass time she both enjoyed and hated, depending on the subject and her mood. the hall was silent, no music played, she could hear her mother vacuuming downstairs. she stretched out, releasing her knees from her arms' captivity, and leaned her head against the wall. she reaches for her journal to continue the thoughts going in and out. it was the 14th journal in the last six months and the pages were beginning to grow sparce already reaching the end of it. she opens the book on her lap to the next new page, pauses, then sets her pen on the book and looks out her beloved window.so its march 26th... i spent all of march 24th thinking. i didnt tell anyone about it except one and thats a given. just me, only me, knew. i know that you didnt think about it. you dont think about anything now. you may not know it, but you dont.
she watches the cars pass through a stop sign through her window as the gloomy sky darkens with dusk approaching. they stop for the law and the continued stream of pedestrians. the break lights and occasional blinkers are overly illuminated by the growing darkness. they mesmerize her eyes. she continues to talk while watching each of them approach the stop sigh--one after another--then move on.
youre just a ripple now. that love, once great, is lost, to whose misfortune is unknown, though i laugh still. i now find it comical the things you said. its not an angry, hurt, mocking laughter, just a cynical one. i had believed them once. and since i knew you so closely a tiny part of me still believes them... but i know that it is foolish. it is a foolish little girl who now only uses your memory as a platform for greater thought about love, idealism, purpose, promises, hope, friendship, and persons.
she sighs, still watching the cars.
what is the loss of love? i struggle with this idea daily. how can one lose love? there are those who hope to never lose it, and those who pray they do. i havent decided which side im on...but thats because im indecisive. isnt love supposed to be this great idealistic achievement, the one pure thing in this world? ha! purity. i was pure once. i bared my innocence for you once. i loved you once. you were greatness to me once...you crushed me... more than once
she pauses... and shrugs.
it was going to happen one day i guess
i miss your cynicism, surprising i know. she chuckles its because i have come to develop my own sense of cynicism--thanks to you--in regards to most of life. ive decided that cynicism can be appropriate in knowing life, but hoping for the best is crucial. how else are we supposed to get out alive. but then again, no body does, ironically enough. i feel as though i would enjoy your humor more, and we would have to change less in order to... be happy. but youve moved on. i never thought you would--or could--but you did, hence the laughter. i once said that the only thing i feared was losing you, you replied, "its funny how many things we have in common," thanks liar. it still blows my mind. but now i realize what love is to you. i realize what that kind of relationship is to you.
shakes head
i sympathize really. i sympathize with her now because im not sure she really knows the parts of you that i now realize are there. they are subtle, they are very difficult to catch--it took me two years to catch them, and thats with over-detailed thought, reading, connecting the dots, and understanding. although i think she might be better suited for you.
she glances down at her hands--her open palms--and presses them together, cracking her fingers, then abruptly looks back out the window. her eyes seem to search for something in the now dark sky. she sighs again, and her eyes settle back on the cars. the traffic has begun to subside. a tear begins to run down her unflinching cheek. the first tear in almost two months. its ignored.
every day i come up with another reason against you. the list has now become long. the most recent addition is manipulative: "to manipulate: 1) to manage or influence skillfully, especially in an unfair manner." though you probably get that from the fact that you havent really made many deep real relationships/friendships. yes there were those couple of others, but with those someone's feelings always got in the way. so you dont know how to have just a true friendship anymore. and i feel as though i need to keep myself tapped in to you because otherwise... otherwise history will perhaps repeat itself. and thats never a good thing.
she looks away from the window and down at her empty journal and the pen sitting in the crease. she sighs and closes the journal. she swings her legs down from the padded bench and looks out the window for one more glance at the now empty stop sign. a car appears and stops, knowing the ritual Erin turns away and walks back to her room thinking her thoughts are her greatest distraction from the things that matter such as the econ homework beckoning to be done.
posted by The Shadowpax @ 7:50 PM
1 comments
