The chewy bread sticks to my teeth and I feel the unravelling sleeves of my jumper rub against my palms. The jam’s too sweet and this doesn’t feel right anymore – the tiny amount of certainty between us, that you come sit next to me and I sit next to you when there’s no one else, has made this worse. Almost desperate, I make an effort to disagree, in some odd hope that now you’ll drift away again. I tell you, “I’m not really feeling Pearl Jam” but you chuckle, saying, “happened to me too, but you transcend that and really start to like it.”
I wake up thinking of last night’s cuts and wanting more.
You text me saying that you won’t be here for long anymore, and that you’ll explain when we meet in person. I already know, I found out from another that you’re going off to DU to start yet another band. I felt for the first time in a long time. It wasn’t some extraordinary feeling, not the gut-wrenching burst of emotion that people talk about.
Not the almost religious release of thin metal slicing skin. She told me about it in the metro and as I stared down at the grey speckled floor, I saw the dirt on my shoes rub away against the hard plastic. You won’t be there anymore, and like everyone who has ever known me, you’ll be gone too.
The counsellor has a free slot and encourages us to take it. For the first time, I genuinely consider it.
That was until a senior was found hanging from the ceiling fan in his room yesterday, having killed himself two days before they found him. He left a smell of rotting flesh and no suicide note. You call me out of no where and say, “hey, can you come down to the lib ramp? Just wanted to say by to you and S before I leave.” I almost pretend to not know what you were getting at, and when I put the phone down, I let my hair loose and like I was meeting you for the first time.
I was meeting you for the last time. It was the three of us again, and like that night last December there was a silence in which we said a hundred things. I said nothing. S tried to talk you out of it but you had your heart set and soon enough, you were gone. S and I walk back with our hands entwined and it was like you’d never been there. I felt nothing.
your song will always play on cold mornings.
You left and I feel nothing because you’re so easily replaced – there’s little to show for you but this blog post. We were trying to make something out of nothing in this place and you gave up. Everywhere around us these people are something, and despite that, they’re feeling all this pain. The counsellors go round the halls practically screaming for us to talk if we’re not okay, but when the most successful people suffer, no one’s going to care for someone like me.
I go to bed because I give up on the day, and sleep thinking of cutting.