it was the kind of day when the world should end. should meet itself coming backwards and turn itself into the kind of thing we only dream about in stolen moments, dreams we snatch from the ethereal. the trees were crying, laying a carpet of white on the ground (that's how damn beautiful it was), and i sat down for a while and listened to them sighing.
the kind of day when the world should end.

h came by. he smiled at me, lying on the grass, and asked 'what happened? trouble in paradise?' i just glared at him, and turned back to the sky. the sky never lies to you, you'll realize, on a day like today. sometimes i go as far as to think she chooses her colours with her children in mind, that she cries when i cry, and not the other way around. we all aspire to be..something. but we don't realize that that something is already there. h taught me that lesson, actually. it's a story, but not for now. h stared. i stared. we both lay there, for hours, it seemed, before he finally got up, dusted himself off (something's changing).
'im leaving town,' he said. i asked him why. he said it was his time. he had been meaning to, for a long time, and the only reason he hadn't was me, actually. he thought i'd needed someone around. he was probably right, we've had some strange days. but h was always bigger than this town, and i couldn't stop him. he said f and l would take care of me, if i needed anything. that i didn't need his kind of conversation anymore. i laughed. i always did, at him, somehow. i don't remember our last words, because everything that led to that point was so much more significant than any 'take care', 'be good', or goodbye.

it must have been late by the time i got back. l had gone to bed, only f stayed up to meet me at the door. she was so beautiful, framed in that doorway, yellow lamplight lighting that red dress. always the red dress. the kind of red that was almost on fire, but stopped short. it'd burn you if you looked too long. i stared. must have looked terrible, because she took pity on me. turned around, went back inside. i made myself some chai, turned on the radio. the news. another rally, another protest. another hundred people dead, another thousand gone unreported. thing's don't change when i come home. i've heard that radio kill millions, over the years.

i went to h's room. it was bare as the day we moved in. i've lived here so long i don't remember ever not having this place. he wasn't the first to live in that room. j had it for a while, and Q before him. things come, things go. if there's one thing i've gotten used to, in time, it's been goodbyes and hellos. i'll put an ad out in the paper for it tomorrow. let's see what i get. maybe i'll get lucky. haha, haha.

i don't remember falling asleep, but i must have, because it's morning now. i had another nightmare last night. i won't give it to you, but i woke up dying. l came inside. she held me, in a way that i think only she knows how. i dissolved into her, because i'd got nothing left in me. we stayed like that, for a long time. she made me breakfast, looked me in the eye, and told me that it was going to be alright. just like that. i told her that h had left. she said she knew. i smiled. she never did like him..they never got along, and she never understood why i spent so much time with him. i couldn't explain to her that i needed to live both sides. she..accepted, but she never understood. which, i suppose, is all one can expect from love. i hope he finds someone else, as he found me. or, rather, the other way around.

the light's streaming in, through the windows. l must have done that. she loves doing little things like that, she know's i'll notice. f is sitting by me. she's got a hand on my shoulder, as i write. i can feel her seeping into me. i need to breathe. cut loose, somehow, you know? where's my exit, where's the turn off? did i miss it already? i'm waiting, here, for something. f's whispering in my ear, now. she's telling me that she loved h, but never understood him. she thought he was too obscure, came from too many angles. she's says she's pure. and she is, too.
i've removed her hand. i can't ever bear her touch for too long. she burns me. she's still talking, but i'm trying to drown her out. i'm staring out the window, at the light.


i think i'm going to go. i think it's time, i think it might be good. i don't know, but k moved out a long, long time ago. haven't known it for so long that certainty's drained out of any pore that belongs to me. but i can take a chance, i've always been able to do that. that one's mine, lives in my room. i'll take her with me, let her lead me.

i don't know why it is that i've chosen you, but please, don't forget me. i want someone to know that there was once a boy named z, and he believed in everything. that he let things live in his house and eat his food, because in a sense he would use them to understand who he was. that this boy needed to leave, because life is more than what you feel.

i love you.

signed,

-z

-new pictures on flickr-




Originally uploaded by the roof anarchist.