in that space of time between watching blankly as the blinding commercials on tv go by and as the lights in your eyes go off as if someone had hastily and furiously blown out the candles, you realize that it's not about forgetting- one never forgets, or maybe, one doesn't really want to forget- it's about not having to remember, to recall, to have it suddenly spring up on you like a big bad wolf.
i hope that one day god will tell me why he left each person slightly incomplete, as if it was a way to mark his signature style. why each of us walks around heavy with emptiness, emptiness which you wouldn't have to know exists if it didn't throb so hard and ache so much.
i dreamt that it was night, and we were at the beach. i lied on my back and you sat down next to me. you laughed at me because my hair was entirely filled with sand. and just as you were about to make one of your sarcastic remarks, the waves washed us over and over and we laughed at how soaking wet we were.
i'm afraid that one day, i'll wake up and suddenly realize that even you aren't enough to fill that void anymore. i'll stay in bed and curl up into a ball and cry all day and when the absolute self-pity and self-disgust boils into a white heat and eats into the insides of my decaying bones, i'll fall asleep and hope to god that i'll never have to open my eyes again.