Whenever I think of you, I’d like to think that we were born at a time where afternoons were golden and the internet was a pipe dream. We live on the opposing ends of the spectrum but we still meet somewhere in the middle. I keep thinking you don’t belong in my world and I don’t belong in yours, but why did we still try to find common ground?
Sometimes, when I want to remember you, I close my eyes and I try to smell the scent that would take me back to that time where my afternoons were far different from what I have now, where the night sky was dark and riddled with stars as we both say goodbye to make our own ways back home and get ready for another day. There are days when I keep telling myself that I should go back, to tell you that I’ve made a mistake, but then the logical part of me tells me that I can’t go back anymore.
Hold on to me when everything is falling apart, I will try to hold it all together. Holler on to me when everything starts to slip from your grip and everything that you’ve tried to hold together breaks into pieces, I will pick them up piece by piece and we’ll figure out together what to do with them. You see, if you take away my clothing and the flesh, you’ll see the cracks underneath and if you look between the cracks, there is nothing. There is a vast darkness of emptiness in me and I have nothing more left to give but should you come and ask for my help, I will give whatever is left to hold you still. And we can finally stare at each other under the canopy of the night sky and understand what is not being said between us.
I have held you in my mind all this time and I can still hold you for another year, and another year after that. I have asked for your welfare in my prayers and I can continue praying for another year after this. I have loved you for a year and I can still bequeath you a home in my heart for another year, and the year after that, and the year after that until you become a fading memory.
But I cannot do all of that because I cannot come back from my self-imposed exile. I can’t come back anymore and I don’t know if you understand. I have cast myself too far from your shore and I am in the middle of this ocean, thinking about how nice the sands of your shore would feel on my feet, and I am too shamefaced to come home. I have ran so fast and too far out into the woods that I don’t know how to go back. Even if I do have a map, I wouldn’t know if I have the courage to go back. You have to do the fetching this time but I don’t know if you can hear me. You have to do the fetching and when the time is right, I know, you will holler me home.