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1:40AM-3:28AM

Its 1:40 AM

It’s far too incredible to understand how one thought can make me end up here.
They say that if you set aside an hour a day to be alone in a quite room with no agenda you will become a better person. One thought landed me right here. Outside on one of the most beautiful nights, it hasn’t been this nice out since I was little, maybe about six, or seven.. I don’t know. Back when we were so young that dreams felt like reality; back when boxes were castles and coffee was mud. Its 1:47 AM and because of a memory I find myself sitting on the deck of the only house I’ve ever called a home; there is a warm cup of “mud” with way too much sugar in it. I have six candles, three of which are lit. To my right, an empty pack of Shur Fine Matches 20 dependable lights. To my left there are three cardboard matches.. which was the remainder of the pack.
They say we eat 8 spiders a year, 3 of which are most likely in my coffee tonight, it’s a dark night; you can barely see the stars.

It’s far too incredible to understand how one thought can make me end up here.
One thought, one memory. Tonight I drove ten minutes past my neighborhood on the way home; home for some reason didn’t sound pleasing at the moment. I walked through the front door of the only house I’ve ever called a home, singing some John Mayer song that was playing in my car, it must have been my stomach that triggered the memory. You were so hungry that day! You hadn’t eaten for hours; your stomach was doing more talking than you were. Time is one of those uncontrollable things. The Father of time, who is probably living in some fancy, tall grandfather clock, well he has a mind of his own. Its his fault I swear!
I had my head on your stomach, I was listening to your hunger.
We were on your kitchen floor, I’m sure you were counting down by seconds until it was done, your vegetable pizza. You were so hungry, I could tell by the way your insides were yelling at your brain for not making you eat sooner.
We were wearing matching pajamas that night.. grey pants and white shirts; we were still wet from the shower. Our hearts were beating slow from the heat of the hot water but fast with each others.
Those two were running a marathon together, like they had somewhere to be so quickly or something.
A memory is what is left when something happens and doesn’t completely unhappen, it’s a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to loose.

Its 2:07 AM tonight someone told me that, (its 2:20 AM, I ran out of coffee and had to get more) someone, most likely my conscience, told me that sometimes apologies aren’t heard. “I’m sorry” is almost like “I love you;” both phrases are overused and rarely ever meant. There are people you can say I love you to and people you can say I’m sorry to; then there are the people who should hear both. You know you love someone when you can say I’m sorry and mean it. You love him so much you would verbally get down on your hands and knees, making yourself so vulnerable, you’re toes are trembling, wrapped around a cliff edge. These days apologies mean nothing, they are ways to ask for undeserved forgiveness. There is only one apology worth giving and that’s one that’s deserved. I have one of those. One apology to give, it’s incubating in some part of me. It’s most likely balancing somewhere between my instinct, my heart, and my gut. It’s holding on.

2:35 AM
She was wearing a white shirt and jeans.
Outer beauty is incomprehensible; the only true lovers are probably blind.
“I have a 2, a 3, a 4, 5, 6, 7, and an 8!!!”
You tried to draw me that night as you were rudely interrupted by my fascination of the first snowflakes of the year.
If I recall correctly the world was spinning at this point as we struggled into our shoes. We stumbled down the first flight of stairs and when we got to the bottom:

The world stopped I remember, I felt like you do when you’re floating underwater. Everything is so beautiful you forget to breath, and you feel like you’re flying. All the sound from the world above is completely muted but silence isn’t the problem, the problem is fear. Fear of books left open, she needed closure before any further reading. She has a literal fear of anything left open: doors, books, cupboard, containers. Fears override instincts, so do emotions. She wanted to kiss you so badly; to this day she doesn’t know where such self-control came from. Kisses are like continuations. With so little years in her past, the only thing wise about her came from the countless hours she spent in that little room with the chair.
“And how does that make you feel.”
“Breathe, in through your nose: 8, 9, 10. Out through your mouth, 9, 10.”
Fuck it.

I ran outside catching freezing water on my tongue; you were catching it in your hair I remember, you looked funny with your hair unkempt. I was standing close to the brick wall, my hands feeling the little rocks, I was standing on what was left of the grass. I don’t remember what you were doing at this point, I feel like you were trying to run up the wall, or do karate, or ice skate or something.

I stood in the middle of the road, you told me I was going to get hit by a car and that it was dangerous. We locked eyes when I smirked like I was invincible.
I wasn’t.
I wasn’t.
I’m not.
Nor will I ever be.

3:06 AM
“Thank you!” Almost like “I’m sorry” or “I love you.” Overused and rarely ever meant. Giving thanks sometimes goes unnoticed, saying thanks sometimes goes unnoticed, showing thanks is different though. Did I ever thank you? You showed me confidence, you showed me love, you showed me trust. I trusted you. You don’t understand though, I don’t trust anybody.
Did I ever thank you for making me stronger? There is some higher force out there, I know it and its hope, a motivator to keep you moving forward. You are and were hope for me. You proved to me that there are good people out there. You encouraged me, and you listened, my eight-foot wide brick wall was slowly falling down for you. We were right there.

Through life there are obstacles, choices, and regrets. Through out the process you learn, you learn about people and about yourself and you make changes along the way. Regrets should be minimal because you should never regret something that made you stronger; everything makes you stronger. You can’t live with “what ifs,” though that seems to be the only place my mind ever wanders.

“Secret Note”
“Keep me in mind no matter how far our bodies drift”
January 4, 2010
“I think I loved him”

Damn the cannibal that bit my ankle and dragged me through thorns while kissing me softly to ease the pain. The pain was numb until I felt his fingers in my chest grasping for my heart. With time and much effort he tore it apart and rearranged it with precision and perfection leaving it undone. I’m half dead with an undone puzzle to complete in the black darkness of the forest.
All I have is hope, and even that was lost days and days ago.
Days and days and days and days.

Thank you, I love you, Im sorry said the criminal to the victim.
The criminal now the victim in a tragic story quite similar.
3:28 AM

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