i haven't wrote to you in awhile. actually I don't think you ever wrote me back or maybe you did and i never got it. maybe that guy i saw getting coffee the other day somehow got his hands on it. we haven't talked to each other in awhile either so let me clue you in really quick. i just started doing this thing by myself where i see people on the street and i come up with stories about them. this guy was named Norman. Norman had problems internally that he never really talked about but when things went bad Norman would flirt with his coworkers even though he knew he had someone at home to come to. Norman would only do it every blue moon and the second he did he instantly thought to himself that this was worst idea ever so he would sweep it under the table and pretend it didn't happen. one day Normans wife found out and things hit the fan. instead of trying to fix it Norman went and messed even more things up. he started drinking. he spent all his money. he said every bad thing about the person he loved with all his heart. Norman ****** up and ****** up even more. Norman didn't know what to do. Norman couldn't sleep. the only thing he could do was get coffee at his wife's favorite coffee shop when no one else was around. he couldn't go out on dates. he couldn't stop comparing everyone to her. he couldn't stop crying. Norman kept saying sorry and he still saying sorry. actually I'm not even entirely sure Norman got your letter because i never did. you see, I lied no one was there when i got coffee. the place was empty. i got your favorite coffee though. i really hope you write me back. hell i hope I send this to you. i think Normans getting better. not really. I'm not entirely sure. i just think he's starting to realize that not a lot things matter since his wife isn't around anymore. he wants to cannonball into her life like she did his but I'm not sure that'll work. Norman is very unhappy but he's trying. he's working at least. he's not really sleeping as much anymore but that's okay because that gives him more time to work. maybe he should relax though. i don't know the guy isn't even real.
love, N
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:33 PM UTC
i cant promise the world or give you the answer to everything but i can pick of some legos because the only word i could find was "sorry".
we walked around and spotted a kid who spilled some legos in the small toy section when you compared my life to the pieces scattered everywhere. saying how hard it must be trying to put everything back together or trying to come up with something new when everything was a mess. and how hard you've tried to help me but instead it ended with you stepping on some of the pieces. and at first it was okay but after awhile it got tiring and stepping on leggos hurt more than hearing your mother say, "just wait until your father gets home" and you didnt know whether or not you could keep doing it. i loved watching you leave for all the reasons why your father hated me but this time i found myself counting every step you took back into your house.
one for every mistake and every argument we've ever had.
i still haven't figured out wheter or not this was a choppy way of saying goodbye or a choppy way of saying you idiot get your **** together or you cant keep being my idiot.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
I like to pretend that 6 years ago im 14 again seeing movies with friends who i didn't know i wouldn't see ever again.
and you're 2 rows up from me with friends who you didn't know that you wouldnt see again either.
afterwards i would watch you as you walked away and i wish i would've said something.
at the time I was too shy to say that i thought your smile was pretty.
3 years later i find myself practicing the same smile because in reality i never actually got to see it 3 years before and you never sat 2 rows up from me.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
i have racked my mind
trying to figure this whole thing out
the staying, the going
the threads we claim hold us here
& the people who've stopped to play a tune on them
i sometimes relate it
to waking up in waist deep snow
in our former selves
the us we wish we could give one another
the children we've sat on the shelves
trapped, like the looks
we leave behind in snow globes
i sometimes imagine ships
dragging the bottom to the sea of "me"
for sleep & pieces of my old self
to sell to the new one
like history doesn't repeat itself
it gets me wondering
if you too want an apology from the rain
or if you dream of burning family photo albums
and wearing the ashes like perfume
if you're anything like me
how i hope god chokes
on memories of me blowing out candles as a child
i know i shouldn't reference my reader
but don't you know, the only difference
between alone & lonely is you?
that if my hands could talk
the only thing they'd be able to say
is "dear god we've missed you"
and how can you tell me it isn't love
when even the rain refuses to fall
in places where i've kissed you
i remember the day
you found my smile at a yard sale
it reminds me of how you'll leave
i wonder if when you go
you'll tell yourself
the person in the rear view mirror
is closer than they appear
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC