HOME | DD

Description
there was that time you came over and laughed me for staring out the window at a parking lot. i wasn’t – i was staring at eternity. but you smirked, i think, and said the view was gorgeous, and i told you it definitely was, hiding that i wondered why you’d come at all. was that the first day i saw who you can be?

it was back when we pretended we were horses or wolves or leopards or avril lavigne and her twin sister (with flowing auburn hair and green eyes) and magic rain came down in retina-burning colored light to imbue us with its power. those were the latter days of innocence, after we’d discovered that we moved in different parts of einstein’s space and time. but still, if we willed hard enough, our teleportation devices would work.

i know that everything’s changing, everything’s changed, but somehow i think we’ll stay the same. we’ve been eighty together for ages. we’re conservationists for Canada Post and knitting and God, and i think what’s worked fine for eighty years can keep for another lifetime or two.

everything for you was the same fury, the same running at life with eyes closed and arms outstretched, and you burned all the time, exhaustingly, like a bulb with too much current running through it, and i couldn’t keep away because you loved me with the same violence you did everything. in exchange, i’ll watch to see you don’t burn out too soon.

well, it’s true you were the stereotype of all the girls i’d taught myself to hate, and it’s true you were as beautiful and faraway as a star, but sometimes you’d come back to earth. i choose to remember the times you’d forget to be who you’d taught yourself to resemble, and make me wonder why we try to teach ourselves anything at all.

you were small, colourful, joyous, a bird or a butterfly spreading your happiness around – even if, like me, we didn’t want it. remember, please, that it was only when you showed you were hurting that i really started to love you.