Whether or not it's also over...


Is not up to me.

I'm never going to be ready.
Another day or month is never going to be enough time to get ready for this.

But if I wait, I will be waiting for the rest of my life.
Or just until the summer washes away.

Okay...

I'm sorry,
I'm sorry,

Please don't leave me.

But if you do...

I guess I should've tried reaching a long time ago.

But I'm here now.

...I'm here now.

No matter what happens here..

I'm not dying today.

She was there.

7:25pm

I'm out with some friends., we find a spot on a hill, I know some of the people, I don't know some of the people.

I'm there having a good time. Trying to make conversation, not seeming like a complete loner loser.

I make due with what social skills I have left.

10:45pm

The fireworks have started, sparks of colour fill the sky and loud exploding noises fill my ears.

It's so dark out.
I watched the sunset not too long ago...

The sounds, the exploding bursts of shimmer and shine.

The fireworks are so vibrant, so alive...
I don't feel scared to die right now...

Maybe I should, but I don't.

11:30pm

I found my car and the parking lot is filled with people trying to get out. I grab a map and sit on the trunk of my car as I wait for an opening.

The night is calm if you don't pay mind to the drivers.
And I don't, I just stare at the map, searching for a way home.

12:30am

I made it home about 10 minutes ago and I'm not tired yet.
I make myself a cup of hot chocolate and sit at my computer watching episodes of an old sitcom from a time I didn't live in.

2:00am

I'm here.
Lying in my bed, next to nothing and no one.
It was only hours ago that I didn't feel so scared.
And now I'm here.

She wasn't there was she?
She couldn't have been...
If she was, I couldn't possibly have...

She was there.*

She was.

Our paths just missed each other.
Never crossing.

Just hours ago, I was watching fireworks.

And now I'm here.

Watching the darkness.

I planned out my night.
Going out to a gathering with friends.

I look around my room.
What a mess.

I don't feel so happy right now.

So I start cleaning.
Make my bed.
Take out my clothes for the night.
Grey shirt.
Black carpenter's pants.
My best red checkered shirt.

My only red checkered shirt...

Red and white socks.
My watch, two hair elastics, two rings, three pins, one hat.

I shower away all the grime and grease.
Tidy up my look as I put on the clothes.
Putting on my signature hat and attaching the pins to my shirt.

I look...okay.

I lace up my buffed up red shoes and take my car and drive off to wherever I'm going.

It's supposed to be a great night out.

Until I go home to cry away the pain.

I'll enjoy myself.
I'll do something.

Anything.

I guess I should start by saying that I don't really believe in other universes or alternate dimensions.
But sometimes I like the idea of manipulating where I am now into something... better?

Only to find that I'm not in that kind of better place.

So... until I reach that realization again, here I go.

In another universe, we met at the auditions for my first musical. I wasn't scared to audition because I finally wanted to put myself out there as a singer.

We both get chorus parts... figures.

In another dimension, I was told to pursue my music career like it was the most important decision I was ever going to make.
I stick with it.

In another timeline, I spent every lunch hour making friends laugh at my dumb jokes.

In another universe, I never lost those friends.

In another timeline, those texts never made it to their phone. Maybe they didn't even get on the ship.

In another dimension, I never stopped hugging you.

In another world, I stuck with friends I had.

In another universe, there was never that fight. We never had a falling out, and there was never a time where we stopped being friends.

In another universe, I never got on that plane to Paris.

In another timeline, I finally recovered from losing all my friends. I finally got better.

In another dimension, I stopped writing about how much the past 5 months broke me.

In another universe I never hesitated to text anyone for fear of interrupting their life.

In another world, I never recover.

In another dimension, I never get over it. I let it consume me and I commit suicide. I never said anything to let anyone know when the end would come.

In another world, I spoke up and said I miss you.

In another dimension, we never met.

I guess that would be a sad place to be.

In another universe...

It never rained on the pride parade downtown. It stayed sunny, and people kept walking in full glow of their personality.

In another world, I did something or said something worthwhile.

In another dimension
In another universe
In another world
In another life...

I was gonna be okay.
And I knew somehow...
That we'd be there.
Together.

But none of these alternate realities exist.
I guess I just like the idea of another outcome.

I like to believe that I'm stronger than I am.
That I'm braver than I am.

And yet, I fall into cowardice like any other reflex built into my skin.
It's a program the world wanted to overwrite onto my story. Like I didn't have a choice about whether or not I wanted to be miserable.

And I want to be better.
Who doesn't?

I just... fall away. Like it's so easy to give in to what you've been exposed to. No matter how dangerous or vulnerable it makes you.

You just fall.

I drop into a broken conversation, it just ended with an "I'm sorry".

It feels so final.

Like the unsatisfying ending of a story you wish you could rewrite. Like you're in so much control, you'll do anything to keep that control within your grasp.

I didn't want this.

I didn't want the final result I got.
Nothing.

An open road, and being told to just go anywhere.
Anywhere but were you came from.
Leaving home, and not returning to the comfort of the arms that held up your body when it couldn't fight gravity, falling to the ground.

They pick you up like it's the only thing they were ever taught to do.

I wish I told them everything.
I wish I told them how much I could cry.
How it could make an ocean all on its own.

I wish I hugged them more.
Told them they were the best thing that ever happened to me.
Told them that I would drop everything to be there for them.

That I would write songs about them.
That I would write and write and write until we had no more jokes to laugh about.

So, I guess the writing and laughing would never stop.

I wish I said more.

I mean. I wish I said something.

I wish...

I wasn't so afraid of being here.

I was told to go back to them.

I wonder if they'd ever want me back.
After everything.

So how do I go about this sort of deja vu?

Being told that:

"Maybe one "Hello" will flip everything."

Maybe. But I haven't gotten there.

Not yet anyway.