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Confessions of Miss Independent
It started feeling like October; which was appropriate on a day in late August when life as you know it has run through its expiry date and left too many remnants unconsumed. And no, it’s not because time-went-by-so-fast and it-just-seems-like–yesterday-we-were-in- kindergarten or any other form of post-high school graduate fledgling sentiments. I have a pretty clear idea of where the time’s gone, just not where my mind’s been wandering. I mean, how could I have just assumed that he possessed any intellectual insight into anything repressed for four…..no wait it has to be longer………really? Four years. There is absolutely no plausible reason why it should even cross his mind that every single second of every single day was taken up trying to find the right way to explain why it hurt so much while she was there. How could he possibly know, when all I did was push him away? Oh it’s not because I didn’t love him, because I did. I loved him so much it made me sit bolt upright at 6:00 A.M; shivering with the kind of desire only the secluded world of moonlight reverie knows how to pay homage to. No, it was because without him I don’t sleep; a junkie without a pipe, a bard without a song, a withdrawal most disastrous. This is the chorus that resounds itself over and over as I hold him, breathe him, steep my confusion in him, for the last time as fallible children. “Read your books, but stay out late some nights” he smirks from where his chin has nestled itself atop my head. Someday he’ll know, that day when I do……
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