It’s been awhile. Kinda weird isn’t it? It’s probably weirder to have a one-sided conversation and you’re a memory mannequin but life’s strange anyway.
Should this start with a “do you remember” or is this the part where we have to fill in all the since-last details, painful or otherwise?
These questions surely don’t entertain either of us, surely not. Ah, wish we traded places, become the mannequin instead, though that’d mean you’d still have a memory of us – it’s better to leave it all flayed. It is a secret wish – that is, a wish that you forgot everything.
Quite ironic to wish such things while instigating the opposite – though maybe if it came true it’s more of an equalizer than anything else. Before it’s scrapped.
Not sure why this was started: there’s nothing to say. Do you think indifference is cruel? Maybe you’d call me a monster – not like it’s intentional.
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe you could teach how to not be so ill, or incite some guilt to change. How to not hurt those who do come into this life next, though maybe that’s inevitable. You all were right about this; maybe you could let me carry a warning sign for whoever bothers a befriending next.
Thinking about all of you shifts inner dispositions and makes one wonder what is left of the person among them. When you live long enough you forget all the parts which make you. When we’re together in thought so comes a lot of surprises; it’s hard to say what I am not in this limbo world. It’s hard to say why I’m typing.
At least we can be a little more delicate, seeing as you’ll never read this. Did I love who I was when I was with you? The statement renders a little absurd, seeing as no one ever thinks about this when they’re alone or with friends. Only when you’re in the morning beach light with an icy breeze for an autumn day could you catch yourself wondering such things.
There were a few lessons learned. The first is that no joke is worth desecrating those around you. The second is a thankfulness for the thick skin, so lain in contradictions. A third is an understanding we’re mostly alone, especially when you’re the only one walking to 7/11 at 2 a.m.
The pine forests of where I moved to have a bulk to them that’s comforting. Like they’re the watchers of every age, even as this one closes. It would be nice to become one, wouldn’t it? You’d figure all the plants are in a perpetual dreamy DMT connection, reverberations of a higher tune. Could learn a lot to be a sproutly protege.