3 years ago5,000+ Views
The following takes place six and a half years ago. Two years before you started feeling hollow. One year after you took yourself off your medication. One month before you started at a new college. You are processing these memories and feelings the only way you know how, after they happened.
Don't worry. It's okay, I'm here and will help you through it.
Do you remember? The sound of the rain beating against your steel-gray Honda Accord. The beads of water making constellations across your windshield. Do you remember? The Great Bear, there it is, can you see it? Orion, there he is, can you see him? It's okay, I'm here, I'm going to help you remember.
The rain came down hard and fast. And your right foot, dressed in a black boot to match your left foot, came down hard on the gas pedal. You were speeding, do you remember? You used to love driving fast. This was before your accident. Before your brakes failed and your car tumbled backwards at 30 MPH, hopped a curb, and smashed into a parked truck. Do you remember that? The way you crawled out of your heap of a car, the way you didn't believe that all the metal and steel looked like aluminium foil against a pick-up truck? How you needed a cigarette so bad but didn't have a light so you banged your fist against a door to get someone to help you with fire?
Do you remember? It's okay, I can help you. Don't worry.
Anyway, you were on your way to your friends house. I'll leave her name out of it for now, one step at a time. I want you to remember on your own, okay? She was waiting for you. By the ponds, under the only light on the street that worked. She was standing outside, under an umbrella, smoking a cigarette because she didn't want her car or her parents to know that she was a smoker. Do you remember?
It's okay, we're here now. I'll tell you the rest, okay?
You pulled up behind her car. And the rain was coming down hard. You pulled the back of your shirt up over your head to protect yourself but it didn't work, your hair was too long at the time. It slicked down the back of your head and it felt like it was winter time, your hair felt frozen to the skin on the back of your neck. You didn't wear glasses at the time and you kept sliding the palm of your hand down your face and you were doing that gentle spitting thing that you do when rainwater gets in your mouth. Is any of this ringing a bell? God, I don't think he's listening to us. Keep going? Alright, alright.
She asked you to stand under the umbrella with her, so you did. And something came over you, you put your left arm -- the one with more tattoos -- around her waist and held her close, do you remember? You looked her in the eyes and asked her not to leave. Do you remember? And you kissed her. You kissed her very hard. Do you remember? God. Do I have to keep doing this? I can't, I can't.
Alright, fine. I will.
Do you remember the way she felt, in your arms, in the rain? Do you remember how she dropped the umbrella and rain poured over the both of you like you were in a shower or on a boat touring Niagara Falls, do you remember? Please tell me you remember how she pressed against you and told you she still had to leave but she would be back for Holidays and Summer Break. And when she said this you pulled away from her for a second and it scared her, you know it did, but you said you'd wait for her. You told her you'd be waiting at the airport every winter and every summer. Is this working? I don't think this is working. I don't care what the monitors say, I don't think this works.
I'm trying to help you, okay? I need you to remember, alright? We all need you to remember. I'm trying to be as detailed as I can be because I know it'll stir something up in there. It has got to. They know it will.
You were in the rain, remember? You had your arms around me, remember? You kissed me hard, remember? You said my lips were soft like clouds, remember? You said our hands fit together perfectly, remember? You waited for me, remember? Don't you? Please do something, anything to let me know you can hear me.
Please? I really miss you. Please, do or say something. Do you remember me?
Yes, I do.
Please, say something anything.
I remember that night. Why can't you hear me?
I love you. I love you. Please, I just want to dance again.
Then, let's go dancing. Aren't you listening to me? I don't understand what's happening.
Just come back to me, please. I love you so much. I miss you so much.
I'm right here. Take me home.
oh man. This was beautiful. actually, no. I think that word gets thrown around too much. This was stunning in it's delivery. I was hooked from the start, and the anachronistic nature of the piece, and the vagaries of it. but the block where it is made clear that this is her and she is talkin to 'you' (me) hit me like a mack truck carrying palates of bricks. by which I mean I was blown away and I'm happier for it. bravo.
also the music is on point.
@paulisaverage you have a really amazing ability of conveying emotion in your writing. It's so hard to do, but you do it so effortlessly, so consistently. this piece is no exception - what you leave unsaid is as important as what is said. the style is great and really represents your voice - you've developed that really well through all of your posts. awesome job on this.