(This mysterious piece has no date, but, from the sounds of things, it was somewhere around 1998. I have no idea who I am talking about here, but she must’ve made an impact back then.)
So, I think of her every now and then. Not much has really changed I guess. High school is five years past, but it never really feels that way. I wonder if it is like that for most people.
It is hard to imagine it being any different.
I don’t know why I have that soft spot in my hear for someon that I have known well, thought I was in love with, became close friends with, held little back from, and then, in the end, thought that it was all a hoax. I tried to convince myself that I could give a big fuck you to it all. I wrote a poem – a masterpiece in my distorted mind — and let it spill onto the paper like a bucket of rain being tipped into a small brown puddle near the sidewalk.
In the end, I don’t really care what happened. I held a shield to the temptation of ambiance; to the temptation of living in the past.
It’s funny sometimes. It’s like way back when the world was a playground and all was quiet, everything seemed so clear. I can see her right now, breathing in the salty steam rising from a corner hot dog vendor’s cooker. Walking and laughing like it had all been part of the innocence of a life no longer here.
(This rambling ends with a rough sketch of a person with X’s for eyes, smiling and holding up a heavy metal sign. Wtf?)