Everything I Say is Hollow like a Dying Tree

And it echoes, it echoes.

It's funny, the power you can hold over people, the seemingly strong turned weak, becoming people who aren't even people, who are just things and faces, just names in different places. I have watched my own reflection melt away in the water, I remember it well. It was more out of body than I want to admit. And no matter what, or for that matter, yet, it doesn't look like it will change.

You heart is made of chambers, physically, and metaphorically. Four inside, countless in the literary sense. And one of those will always hold someone inside of it, even when hope is gone, and vows are exchanged, it seems to always hold them. I'm too gutless to mention her name, or too cowardly to tell her, so the closest thing to courage is by writing this thought, this one thought, about her on the damn internet, out for billions of pairs of eyes to gawk and gaze like this is some caged, drugged up panda bear.

But it's not. It's just how I feel.

I had a dream last night. She was in it. We were at my uncle's house, and she and I were good again. She had blonde hair, again. and We were older, I think, or maybe younger but just wiser. And she was spending the night in the trailer on a bench made of splintered wood and I came and laid down with her and spooned, and I felt her small lungs give and take air at will. There was a green itchy sheet, but I didn't mind. It could have been made of razors and still I would have laid there. Then we were up and she was outside in a circle of strange friends with backpacks and big purses. And they looked at me like I had leprosy, like I should yell "UNCLEAN!!!" at the top of my lungs. And she said, "I have to go now." I asked, "Why?" She said, "Because you're a dick."

And she left. I woke up hurt. Because I know the dream spoke truth.

This part is very true:

In those early hours of this morning, I wished that G-d would send me back in time, at first to the very beginning, then towards the middle, then towards the end. I wanted a second shot, another chance. I pleaded with Him, "Please let me go back and try again." I feel like my best shot back then was subpar at best for someone out of my league.

I remembered all of this just to make sure that to keep it in perspective, to try and forget it, but remember it at the same time. Life is funny, G-d is funnier.


What in the hell is going on?