if I squint, maybe I can see the stars

It wasn’t hard to get hold of you. You were online when I sent the message. You might have taken a few more minutes to respond than necessary, but you did anyway, and I thank you for that.

Walking alone is something I have always done. I didn’t like to have aimless walks back at home but ever since coming here, walking seemed to be the only way to take me out of it.

I asked you for some silly request so that I can have an excuse to stay out longer. You rebuffed it. Maybe you could see through the act, maybe you couldn’t. I didn’t feel like I was walking that day, but I was, and I was walking slowly. It was just a slow pace, passing by any PokeStops that I can reach and replenishing my inventory when I can.

But it was also a slow pace because I wanted to know what your next reply was. You took a few minutes to respond each time. Suspicious, probably, but nonetheless you replied. I asked for hot chocolate and stumbled over my request. I didn’t want to spend anything — not money, not energy, not anything. I just wanted to do something. Anything.

My mind was in shambles and I couldn’t do anything about it. I was too numb to even feel the tears prickling at the edge of my eyes.

I made up another lie. I said I wanted to play a video game. I was outside of your house at the point, just lingering, spinning the stops when I reached them. And then your message pinged my phone and I walked away.

I didn’t even say goodbye to you. I commented on the sky and you just agreed, then I turned away from you and walked up the hill to Killigrew, quickly, and passed through Marlborough. All the while my mind was a storm. It didn’t want anything. I didn’t want anything.

All I really wanted was to kneel and cradle my head and let the tears stream down. I didn’t even know why I was sad. I just was. I wanted neither comfort nor isolation. I didn’t any company and I didn’t want to be alone.

I didn’t want anything. I wanted everything.

If I squint, maybe I can see a reason to stay.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s