“a flickering lamp, a phantom” by Julia on the couch at the Airbnb

Thursday July 12, 2018
9:41pm
5 minutes
Diamond Sutra
Buddha

We sit in the dark.
Connie tells me, “These wafer cookies taste like they cost only a dollar.”
I tell her, “that’s because they do cost only a dollar. People who buy these don’t by them for quality, they buy them because they’re trying to bury the thing inside them that keeps them itching.”
Connie says, “Who has a face long enough to shove one of these in without biting?”
And I say, “What in the world are you talking about?”
Connie says, “These things leave crumbs everywhere like a motherfucker. I’m not Hansel and Gretel. I don’t need someone to follow the path of them all the way back to me. Me and my face trying to hide the sadness in my stomach.”
I don’t really know why she keeps eating them except for the fact that she might be one of those people who eat the wafers that the people trying to bury the thing inside them buy so she can at least complain about them.
Connie says, “They leave a film on the roof of your mouth. What is that?”
“Regret”, I tell her. “Or something like it.”

“Our isolated human grandeur” by Julia on her patio

Saturday July 7, 2018
9:36pm
A quote by Thomas Berry

I can’t believe it’s come to this.
One million years and counting.
Or I was.
Maybe you aren’t anymore?

I never wanted to admit that I have been less
but I have been less
Less than I wanted to be
Less than you needed
We were building on the good ship lollipop
sailing somewhere together
on the open sea of hope and do betters
We were doing better

Perhaps this solo journey I’ve been taking at the same time has interfered
Whisked me away to the clouds and dreaming
Pushed me further into myself to question why anything was where it was
Why these lungs here?
Why this pull on my rib cage?
I thought I was busy finding myself but I was busy losing you
Caught asking too many questions in the good room
When you are in the good room, you are not supposed to ask questions.
It might jinx things.
It might put a hex on the whole damn house.

“May all that is unlived in you” by Julia on her couch

Tuesday September 19, 2017
9:47pm
5 minutes
To Come Home To Yourself
John O’Donohue

calling all angels!
I wouldn’t want to go my whole
life never having done that
just in case
maybe it would make something
a little bit more beautiful

I believe that we’re half this
and half that and when the sun
sets we all know what good
looks like
I’ve always felt connected to a vibration more than a heaven
and I think we must all see the magic in one another as surely it does recognize the magic in us

we could all use a little help
a little lift
and lucky lucky
we all have a team warming
up on deck
ready
And damn from high up can
those eyes see

“My unexpressed anger at nothing in particular.” by Julia on Jessica’s air mattress


Saturday July 15, 2017
8:33am
5 minutes
No one belongs here more than you.
Miranda July


I throw my phone across the room, breaking the corner and exposing the LCD screen. I am now angry at myself for wrecking a thing I needed. I am always wrecking things I need.
I didn’t want to talk to him this morning in the first place but when he calls my heart double dutches just like it used to so I answer because I am a creature of habit and likely synchronicity.
I don’t know how I choose this terrible mood over all the other moods, but this is the one I’m wearing like a hazmat suit. It’s bulky and oversized and it knocks people over if it gets too close. I even use sarcasm when I can tell I have pierced him. I am nowhere close to okay with that.

“bring it with me” by Sasha at her desk


Tuesday January 17, 2017
10:41pm
5 minutes
From an email

I leave my dig-
nity on your
futon under
the fit-
ted sheet
with the
stain on
the lower
right corner.

I put my
underwear
in my coat
pocket and
pray that I
have a five
dollar bill
in there
to keep them
company
to hold
their tired
hand.

I buy a coffee
at the shop
that also
does photo-
copies and
lamination.

I realize
that I forgot
my phone on
the floor
beside your
futon and
I wonder
what might
be worse
buying a
new phone
or seeing
you again?

“gracefully tragic” by Sasha at the kitchen table at Bowmore


Saturday December 17, 2016
3:14pm
5 minutes
The Books section of NOW Magazine

She thinks of her life,
when she’s reflecting
on it, over the long
twelve days before
she goes, she thinks
of her life as graceful-
ly tragic.

She wishes that she’d
called her daughter more
especially in the years
when they were estranged.

She wishes that she hadn’t
dyed her hair, that she had
let it go grey, like wise women
everywhere.

She’s glad that she ate a lot
of pizza, and had sex outside
three different times with three
different lovers.

The tragedy comes out of the
fear, all the fear, circling her
throat like a snake.

“can’t think of anything to add.” by Julia on her couch


Monday November 28, 2016
9:45pm
5 minutes
From a feedback form

I wish I didn’t fall asleep when I read
Wish I didn’t love chocolate
Wish I didn’t need to spend a long time in the bathroom with the door closed not talking me to anyone for hours
Wish I didn’t only call my mom when I am walking somewhere
Wish I cared more about DIY
Wish I knew how to play the ukulele
Wish people asked me to sing for them
Wish I could wear sweatpants to the printers or the dentist
Wish I didn’t have a permanent retainer (or two) (for flossing)
Wish flossing was stupidly enjoyable
Wish someone could squeeze me all day
Wish someone would squeeze me all night
Wish I never needed to consult the Internet for recipes
Or scrabble words
Or origins of weird sayings
Wish I was born in a different decade
Or area code

“We talk all about our relationship” by Julia in her bed


Sunday November 6, 2016
11:28pm
5 minutes
Dear Sugar Radio

It’s been sixteen weeks since I’ve seen you. Sixteen weeks since we’ve talked. You told me not to be surprised if you one day couldn’t stand talking to me and now that day is here. I can’t say I was surprised or not. You’re not here. I’m grieving. I don’t have time for surprise.
I wish I hadn’t made you hate me to the point of I told you so. Sixteen weeks when the longest stretch before that was sixteen hours. I don’t know what days mean anymore. I don’t know what minutes are. I’m dying for you to forgive yourself for loving me so you can come back and get the real loving you expected.

“slack jawed” by Sasha in the bath


Thursday October 12, 2016
11:09pm
5 minutes
From an email

I wasn’t used to the attention
an excuse
okay
a discretion
I did fifteen things I regret
okay
starting and ending with
you
Tears fall onto a notebook page
a and e and s swell and bleed
a womb away my sister
nurses the next generation
It’s late there
My sorry will never be
enough
for the slack jaw
fuck
on the couch
in the country
My regrets bite my tongue
Assault my dreams
night after night
season after fall
driving cars off cliffs
walking topless into a family reunion
in Florida

“I had to let her know” By Julia in her bed


Tuesday September 13, 2016
11:18pm
5 minutes
from a Facebook post

Words unspoken turned into her next studio album
I wished she would have thanked me in the liner notes
Some of her best songs were un-fought wars about me
And some of her most beautiful lyrics
Were silent wishes tucked away and forgotten
I would have liked to explain myself
I would have liked to be understood before the divide instead of because of it
Too many resolutions gleaned from the backs of our sleeping heads facing opposite walls
And all the haunting melodies I will hum to myself forever
now that they are stuck inside my dreams

“It languished in the vault” by Julia at her dining table


Monday, August 29, 2016
7:08am
5 minutes
rollingstone.com

I put it there along with other things. I wanted a collection of all the lies I had been telling. In the secret parts of my understanding I like to believe they live in a garden on their own. But they are not thriving in their soil. I don’t water them. I have deep hopes that they don’t need it. The walls of this decision are dried and crumbling. They don’t fall or crack revealing light. They pile on top of the old ones and bury the new ones that were just put there for a second. Now everything is locked up. The idea that this is all I’ll ever be. I am the one languishing in the vault. I am the one wasted. And I only choose to visit the scraps of myself there when no one else is around. Stuck internal, asleep on a mattress that divides all of my bones into unusable groups, and keeps me from attending the day like they all expect me to.

“The worst kept secret” by Julia on her couch


Sunday August 21, 2016
10:26pm
5 minutes
lifehacker.com

Somebody told me once that discharge was called sperm. Okay it was my sister. We used to fight a lot. She was older. I wanted to do everything she did. I believed everything she told me. I was so confident in her that I never questioned a single thing she said. I admired her. Now we’re older and she tells me when things I believe about myself are just stories. She tells me when she hears me choosing not to love myself. I believe her. I know she doesn’t say things now to break me down. When we were young, she wanted to tease me. But maybe to see how much I could take. How much I would hear before I pushed back. It’s trusting someone outside yourself. She knows everything I’ve never told anyone else. She will always be the keeper of my secrets. She keeps the ones I like next to the ones I never will. She keeps them for me, but she forgets they’re there. She doesn’t see me through eyes of things I wish I didn’t do. She does not love on condition.

“okay okay okay” by Julia on the reading chair


Sunday, July 10, 2016
1:57pm
5 minutes
Overheard on the street

It’s the eleventh time (maybe the twelfth) that he’s told me he loves me today and it’s not even noon yet. I think he’s covering up for something. Overcompensating like he does sometimes when he becomes afraid of me. I catch a glimpse of myself being hugged in the mirror, (bent low) by his unavoidable embrace. I say, okay okay okay and he lifts me up, hurt on the inside, and in his eyes. You don’t want me to love you? I catch reflection again and there is hurt on me too. I do, I say, just not parallel to the floor like that, not crumpled up in a ball that makes my back ache. Sorry, he says, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Okay okay okay, I say, I know, no one ever means to. I give myself a time out so I can be far away from him and his love that doesn’t know how to feel rejection. I don’t want to be the thing that twists his insides when he’s happy and makes him drift off to sleep dreaming about my funeral. I tell myself, in exactly five minutes (maybe six), I will go back over there and squeeze him with the honest love I’ve been keeping from him.

“late summer night in 1990” by Julia on the 23


Tuesday March 1, 2016
7:04pm
5 minutes
http://therumpus.net/2016/03/there-is-no-such-thing-as-a-true-story/

Hardly slept-hadn’t been since March if I’m being honest. I don’t know if it was the construction or the lawn mowers- working nights make you stop sleeping and forget who you are, what your name is. But-I don’t know if I’m making excuses or whatever-all I know is I was fried. Wasn’t thinking. Maya couldn’t come and get me and that was fine-she said she was tied up at the shelter and some lone wolf told her he wasn’t going to leave unless she shaved his nut sack. I know I shouldn’t have left on my own-should have just waited there at the rest zone until someone could come get me, or some bus route opened up. I don’t like waiting around. Makes me feel like I’m killing time before I die. No in between. I didn’t mean to be so stupid. I didn’t need to drive I just had to get out of there-the smell of the plastic was starting to seep into me, twisting my guts up. Head pounding, all of that- I was just tired.

“with the theme of fear” by Julia at Coco et Olive


Monday November 9, 2015 at Coco et Olive
3:23pm
5 minutes
ionmagazine.ca

I am not alone in this room
I share my bed with my former self
And all my past mistakes
I lay my head down on the same pillow as the shame that haunts me
I close my eyes and see the me I never wanted to be
The me I never thought I could be
I am not alone in this lie
Sometimes good people make bad choices
Sometimes bad choices make bad people
I watch the blame hang on every corner of every wall
I wait for it to cling to my eyelids and bind my mind forever
He said she said
She does he does
She regrets he preys
He forgets she stays
I am not alone in this guilt
I share my memories with the poor judgement that follows me
And all the wrong I’ve invited in
To stay a while
To live on inside me

“really only happy when working” by Julia at her desk


Tuesday November 3, 2015
10:46pm
5 minutes
chaninicholas.com

I called him from the parking lot on my lunch break.
“Hi!”
“Hi? Is everything okay?”
“Yup! It is okay. It is all okay!”
“Okay….did you need something then?”
“Why, do I need to need something to call my lover in the middle of the day?”
“No…not exactly…What’s going on, seriously?”
“I’m just so happy. I wanted to be happy in this moment with you.”
“Oh.”
“You got cynical!”
“And you’re cured now?’
I kicked a giant rock at my foot toward the fence. I debated hanging up right there on the spot, calling back, and pretending to be in pain.
“I didn’t say I was cured. I’m just trying to be positive.”
“Oh.”
“If you’d rather I didn’t try to turn my life around and try to change my opinion, just say the word.”
“You know that’s not what this..that’s not what I mean.”
“No, I know, I know what you mean.”

“Watch your belongings” by Julia on the 505 going west


Tuesday, April 28, 2015
11:54pm
5 minutes
A sign in the Kitsilano Public Library

Tuck had been running back and forth to the toilet all morning. He felt like a train was plowing through his stomach since last night’s sushi. He knew he shouldn’t have finished it all after the first bite of tuna that smelled very close to the stuff he’d sometimes find underneath his toes. Tuck always smelled his toe jam. He couldn’t help it. He kind of liked it. But Tuck wasn’t big on waste, or health, or being an adult and ordering new food because that would take time and he was hungry as all hell. Every bite he ate he had to plug his nose so he wouldn’t taste the…funk of it. He ate every last morsel and it only took him 25 minutes for him to regret it. He could hear his mother’s shrill voice in his ear as he hunched over the can, preparing his guts for another roller coaster ride. “Don’t you want to enjoy your food, Tucker? What’s the point in eating if you refuse to even taste it!” He didn’t want to be thinking of her right now. It was hard enough having to ask a customer to watch the diner every 5 minutes so he could run to the bathroom and purge.

“She was in a pure state,” by Julia at Jess and Rick’s kitchen table


Saturday, April 17, 2015
9:11pm
5 minutes
100 Essays I Don’t Have Time To Write
Sarah Ruhl


she stared out the window regretting all the missed moments
the missed targets
the missed connections
where did they all go?
did they find a home inside someone else’s heart?
she watched as the water swooshed up onto the beach
washing away the seconds that were there before
purifying the spot where sadness and helplessness like to procreate
she stared out the window
thankful for all of nature’s help
cleansing the pallet and offering up a blank space
for her to scrawl the initials of a life painting worthy of a name
I’m sorry
she hummed to the nothingness
I’m finished with that one
she whispered to the nobodys
I’m better now
she believed to the quiet
I’m making room for the good
she promised to the sunset

“Your values” by Julia on her couch


Monday, April 6, 2015
12:41am
5 minutes
From a bookmark

I wish I could go back in time and erase all the bad thoughts I’ve ever had about you. Not that I regret having them because you were hurt by them. You don’t even know they exist. I want to erase them because they remind me of a time when I didn’t trust myself enough to fall deeply. I’m mad that I had the signs laid out in front of me. All the proof was there: you were good. You showed me everyday. You made me feel it even when it felt impossible. And sometimes the fear of being fully loved by you manifested itself into negative thoughts about you. If I could I would replace all those bad ones with all the times you made me laugh, all the times you told me I was beautiful even when I had just woken up, all the times you serenaded me with your ukulele, all the times you held my hand when I got too scared to take a risk. It’s not to prove to you that I’m only keeping the good stuff from now on, it’s to prove to me that I know the difference.

“I’ve been catfished!” by Julia on the subway going west


Friday March 6, 2015
6:47pm
5 minutes
from a text from Sandra

I’ve been fully tricked
Half baked and eaten
Bowl of fruit and flies
Lights dimmed and lying kind of thing
It wasn’t easy to admit
In fact this is the first time
Felt too vulnerable and stupid
Felt too salty in all my gnashed out skin
Row of fakes
Tray of lies
Cup of deceit steeped to almost ready
And I drank it up gulped it down
Forgot all my faculties
Should have known it needed to cool before tasting
Donated all my wits to the charity drive on 8th
Wished I asked for a deposit on my self-worth

“EVERYTHING IS CHANGING AND EVERYTHING IS STAYING THE SAME” by Sasha in the Irving K Barber Building at UBC


Monday February 2, 2015 at UBC
2:47pm
5 minutes
A tweet by @stgramophone

It’s all happening fast
Not too fast
But fast
It’s all happening like water
Boiling over
Steaming your glasses
Wanting an escape
Everything is changing and
Nothing is staying the same
This is the thing you can count on
Like butter
Like the light
Like the dust bunnies
and the crow feathers
You’re not staying the same either
Silly
You’re changing most of all
Especially now
Now that you’ve realized your regret
is too heavy
Now that you’ve dumped it in the compost
Ready to be turned into next year’s soil

“REDIRECTION” by Julia at her desk


Tuesday November 26, 2013
11:41pm
5 minutes
The front of the bill from Rogers

A little misdirection, a little action. Yeah. Yeah. Grant me the serenity to…yeah. yeah. When did it become so hard? To hardly exist. To hardly be anything but a regret. A little redirection, a little reaction. Yeah. Yeah. On this day you will be alive and…yeah. yeah. Where did all the pretty colours go? To blend in with the nothingness and be the fear it tried to avoid. A little direction, a little inaction. Yeah. Yeah. Peace before pieces before peace…yeah. yeah. Why must I be without the essentials 98% of the time? To fall on my knees with the wind’s whisper in my ear telling me to land softly, or else. A little redirection please, a little action? Yeah? Yeah. A little yeah. Yeah. A little.

“I used to sleep at night” by Julia on her couch


Friday November 1, 2013
11:58pm
5 minutes
lyrics of Empty Room by Arcade Fire

When the wind blew in, when the rain teased the screen and taunted us with impending disaster…
that’s when I could sleep the best.
You with your head on my chest, counting my heart beats per minute, and telling stories with the sounds of my stomach gurgling. You’d sleep too, after my breath slowed and my legs began to twitch.
You’d wait for me to go first so you’d have some place to follow me to.
Then our dreams would touch in our sleep and we’d find ourselves in a combination haze of love almighty and sheer terror. When we’d wake you’d tell me of the horror but the good kind, the one that made your heart dance because it knew it was protected by the shell of mine. I’d tell you of the buildings we leaped over together, the songs we wrote just by listening to each other’s laugh.

“one time” by Julia on her couch


Thursday October 24, 2013
1:10am
5 minutes
A piece of mail from Shoppers Drug Mart

I remember it well. You were wearing that white cotton, barely there, too sweet to be seductive, too seductive to be sweet, summer dress. You said something about espadrilles and I just nodded my head up and down until you smiled, trying to convince you I had any idea what on earth an espadrille was, let alone, a pair of them. That was the day I asked you to run away with me. In my mind, of course, you were married then, or on your way to be. I think I said something like, When’s the caged bird going to stop singing, and you shrugged your shoulders as if you enjoyed my wit enough to entertain it. I think if I had the proper gear, I would have taken you with me somewhere and not even asked you. Asking doesn’t get anyone anything, did you know that? It just gets the word No. I wish so hard I would have asked for your forgiveness, or his, instead of your permission. But at least you knew that if I couldn’t take you, you had already taken me. Surely if I need to describe it all in detail to you after all these years, it shows you may still care a little bit about me. Why bother reminiscing in something you never wanted? So I do have to go ahead and believe that it is out of regret and not merely out of the desire to tease me. I don’t think I could stand it if I were existing as one of your little jokes.

(an image from National Geographic) by Julia at the CSI Coffee Pub


Wednesday October 23, 2013
10:41am
5 minutes
National Geographic Photo Issue
October 2013


Oh dear, I seem to have misplaced my board. It has all the things I’m supposed to do on it on one side and on the other there’s a really cute picture of a boy with a helmet on, standing in the middle of the beach. My to do list: I like to rotate it off my board so I can keep that picture constant. I made a slip for the paper to slide in and it’s protected by a thin plastic layer–much like you’d see during an overhead presentation at school, when one of the classmates was responsible for teaching the others something about grammar that week. I can’t start my day without writing the list–and then also looking at that picture.

I don’t like to tell many people, but it’s not just the image that’s important to me, it’s the boy.
He is mine, actually.
I really don’t let on that he is, but it’s true. He has his front two teeth missing and that’s the last day I ever saw him because I left him there, at the beach. It was an accident. He was supposed to be in the car with his Aunt Roe.

“sorrow for the lost” By Julia on her couch


Tuesday, September 3, 2013
12:20am
5 minutes
The Raven
Edgar Allan poe


if you thought you couldn’t find your way, you might have convinced yourself to never look, to never learn to read a compass.
you instead know two things about yourself: one, the only time you ever cry is when you have been made to feel embarrassed, and two, the first thing that pops into your head always makes you laugh. you don’t necessarily feel like you’re capable of being anything but those two things, and even when you can sense the self-deprecation in your own inadequacy, you somehow can’t quite get over that it’s absolutely true. now someone told you once that you were fine just the way you were and if people didn’t see that then it was their problem. but one of them had someone tell them that they were fine just the way they were, and then shitty just becomes relative. good becomes relative. and you are lower than your potential because you believed it when you heard it, and you didn’t know how to change it.

“will rest my head.” By Julia at her desk


Saturday May 4, 2013
2:34pm
5 minutes
A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I guess I was mad at him, that’s why I didn’t calm him on his birthday? I debated it, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I forgot the day or anything. I’m good with dates and people’s faces so that’s not usually my style to, you know, to do something like that. It just felt a bit outside myself to really hold back from it. But he was being kind of unmanageable so I was trying to teach him a lesson about life maybe, or about me. He wished me one even though he hated me that year. But I guess I was too mad to even let myself do it.
I should have now. I’m feeling nothing but guilt about the whole thing. I was fine the first two minutes of my decision but…I’m afraid you don’t just come back from that…when your only living family member doesn’t even wish you a happy birthday. Wow. You know? You just stop to think, is it all worth it, do I really want to die on this hill? That’s what my friend Redding always says, and he’s right. You have to pick your battles, don’t you? Why would I have to go ahead and pick that to do to him. I guess I’m proud, or stubborn. I got that from my father. He got the whole forgiveness thing from my mother so I’m hoping he still has that.

“15 people lost limbs” by Julia at Starbucks


Friday April 26, 2013 at Starbucks
11:55am
5 minutes
The front page of the Metro Weekend
April 26-28, 2013


It was a nightmare the day she lost her left arm. A softball player since she was big enough to hold a stick and swing it at tossed pebbles at the end of her driveway. Marissa was the catcher for her team. It would make more sense to address that first, but she’s sensitive and doesn’t want everyone in the town to pity her. Marissa was in a car, driving, sleeping, driving. She woke up on the wrong side of the road once and was shocked so intensely she swore she’d never drive tired again. She had been on her way home from the big away game. It was the playoffs. Her team had won, Everyone was celebrating. Marissa didn’t drink, she even took a nap before talking on the three hour drive. She is still confused about what happened. How it happened. How she ended up in a ditch with her arm out the window–crushed beyond possible repair. She woke up in the hospital with her teammates all around her crying. She hadn’t even looked at the damage yet. But, she knew. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, she thought.

“and not mercy” by Julia at Starbucks


Wednesday February 20, 2013 at Starbucks
4:29pm
5 minutes
Romeo and Juliet
William Shakespeare


And not mercy, that’s not what I want. If you have it to give, fine, that’s one thing. But I will not ask for it. I will not beg. I don’t do things like that. I never have. I never will.
I woke up one cold morning and blamed the snow for cooling my skin. I had left the window open. Did I not invite it in? I did. I did. I realized then I was to blame for the misfortunes, the misguided ideas.
I offered once, to the man of my dreams, please take half of this shortbread. Take half and I will have the other. He forgot it and left the whole thing on the counter. I ate it all. I felt bad. Why? Did I not invite the guilt? That was one half that I had already offered up. How dare I pretend not to notice my promise?
That is why. That is why the mercy may come, but not if I request it. I do not deserve it. I do not want it if it comes falsely, if it comes because I can’t stand being in a room by myself surrounded by mirrors.
My skin, chilled from watching snow flakes hit it, my soul, ridden with the guilt that I burned in it myself. I am a mosaic of mistakes and regret and unfortunate decisions. I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself.
Pain will come to those who cross their fingers tightly and wish and wish and wish for it.

“creating a tension” by Julia at TAN on Baldwin


Monday February 11, 2013 at TAN
5:13pm
5 minutes
Sex,Drugs,And Cocoa Puffs
Chuck Klosterman


Dear friend,
I’ve been better, Hannah. I really have. I am looking back on my life right now and can only safely say that I have been happy a total of 3 times in my entire existence. What happened to me, Hannah? Was I not full of life in our youth? Don’t you remember me wishing on stars and running around without shoes? All that hard work trying to be free has not paid off. I’m a solace to no one. I am a slave to the society’s fixed price life option. Beginning. Middle. End. Nothing in between, Hannah! Nothing to set me apart from the status quo. Oh and my mind aches. I am so tired from all the poor decisions and lack luster ideas I’ve been having. What changed, my dear Hannah? What could possibly be different now. Have I aged without grace? Have I chosen a path trodden by too many? Am I an embodiment of my own regret?
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And you, Hannah, how are you?

“Why is she following this river” by Julia on her couch


Saturday, December 29, 2012
2:29pm
5 minutes
Fool’s Bells
D’anna


Because she can’t help it. Woke up this morning, couldn’t feel her feet, went to find them. There. Now she’s in the river.
She said the water felt hot, like lava. Said she could stand it as long as she breathed…
Waiting for the sun to set, she says to herself in a calming tone:
Shhh.
Shhh.
This is not the end. This is not the end. This is not the end.
The stars from last night echo in her mind’s eye. Blink once for yes. Twinkle twice for no.
Yes. No.
Remember when it was so simple?
The hard rocks are not rough, but they keep their place without moving.
She is deep now. She’s letting the rush swallow her legs and memory all at once.
Where is the wind now, she wonders. Is it here?
She does not feel the breeze. It’s a trapping sensation that keeps her limbs tight.
She couldn’t feel her feet, went to find them.
Now she’s here.
Now she’s in the river.
The silent crushing of her everday’s dream. It is weighing on her every internal organ.
Crying out: PICK ME. SAVE ME. NEED ME.
It goes on and on and the mood is changed from wishful longing to regret.
Just plain regret.
And then she’ll dry off her toes, rest easy on her back, and count the flying snowflakes, trying to find a place to perch.
Will this hold me forever?
Will this keep me safe?