“I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of peoples eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.”—The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath (via uv-ray)
This evening was excellent and I’m soaked to the bone with no cares in the world. The grass at Stroud clung to me knees. We traveled off the beaten path. The wind picked up and we ran back to the car, just in time for the rain to pick up. We found our way to a park and we danced in the rain. Rain drenched everything. And I wouldn’t have changed tonight for the world.
Although I will miss high school, I look forward to what the future will bring.
The thunder roared, barring his teeth, and curled once about the corner, and fell asleep.
Watching these old home movies is surreal. My third grade teacher from CHESTERTON, right before I moved away, said that she wanted to keep in touch but not just that year. She said she wanted to be at my high school graduation. I listened to the movies as background noise, and a familiar voice I hadn’t heard in so long graced my presence. My Papa. Alive and well. At least somewhere in time. Time fucking flies. What the hell.
Like I just said to a friend, I’m picking up the pieces of a shattered illusion. Devin no longer exists in the realm living. My living, anyways. He was my grandest illusion, after all. We both played the disappearing act, but I fooled myself into thinking I had all the tricks up my sleeve. He got himself a girlfriend while I was busy writing poetry, and occupying myself with the company of other guys.
We never really were a “thing” what with the distance. But I will never forget those summer nights, those brief, stolen moments of infinity. I really do love him. Honestly. That hasn’t changed. But we’ve grown apart. Strangely, after writing that down and staring at it for the longest minute of my life, I can truly say I’m fine. The love I have for Devin will simmer to smoldering embers, and if the time comes again, we could pick up right where we left off. And if not, well, we’ll always have the summer to look back on. And who knows? He could come back into my life one day and we could end up together. He could never come back into my life. I could forget all about him. He could forget all about me. Everything. Nothing. The in-between. Nothing is certain.
n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep…