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Another suitcase in the hall

July 20, 2008

There are magical moments you think you have waited for when a boy you thought was just a friend and never interested in you shows interest because you do it and its so great because you are already friends but then he says well, wasn’t this singular event fun and see ya, boy you are great. You sit there and rationalize that okay, sure, thats fine because there are other fish to fry. You are wild and unwise and want to be mesmerizing but are apparently forgettable and tossable and he’s just not that into you. Fuck it anyway, turn the page.

Maybe it was just the sport of it. The challenge of it and a way to compare yourself to the others and that you, this boy, are not rejectable. Like a mountain. You fuck it because it is there.

I can close my eyes and forget your face because I have not grown attached to it. I can distract myself with eyeliner, vintage dresses and too much jewelery. I can be like a christmas tree that stays up all year and I can let whomever I want unwrap me like a present, saving the bows and pretty paper to be used again.

But that mystery of why and what are strange to think of. Like hiccups from too much spicy food you have irritated my phrenic nerve and this flash is reflexive. This flare of recognition is complicated and I am young and wild and unwise and forgettable. So forgettable I can forget myself if the timing is right.

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4 Comments leave one →
  1. July 21, 2008 2:58 pm

    Suggested title for your first novel: You Fuck It Because It Is There.

    Another nice–though sad–reminiscence.

  2. July 22, 2008 1:01 am

    Sometimes I do not get my email notifications from wordpress and I am forced to respond on my own god damned blog.

    dude. totally a good title.

    I know,they are all sad-ish. WEll,the one about my neighbor upstairs was awesome. one of the most perfect moments of my life. better than the birth of my children because I was thin and tan and single and carefree and …

    Yea. I gotta think of some happier romances. Why is it that we only remember, well me mostly, the bitter end?

  3. Tyson Koska permalink
    July 22, 2008 1:35 pm

    Maybe because the sadness we want to change, and the happines, we do not… ?

  4. joefelso permalink
    July 22, 2008 6:42 pm

    Sad is tricky. That you remember them—and so vividly—says you took something away. If you remembered nothing, that would be sad.

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