lethe

five-lane highways, two hours, zero missed exits. one smiling face that I was so nervous to see. the same face I would wake up to in the middle of the night. I'd close my eyes and be met with her face right there in dreamland. together we wandered down streets foreign to me, familiar for her. "Come on, let's go," she beckoned me to follow her up a grand staircase, our footsteps in sync, our first moment alone together. a slip of my foot and suddenly I was washed with a desperation to grab for her hand and not the railing. 

I had a dream about you, and it made me miss you for a second. no, longer than a second, because I'm still thinking about it. you're blocked in my phone, but not blocked from my dreams. funny how that works and how I don't understand what any of it means.

I cannot wait to create a home filled with warmth and love and care and safety. I want my hearth to be welcoming. No ears pressed to close doors, no whispers creeping up through the floorboards; no tension easily cut with an expensive butter knife, no desire to leave and never come back, and no dread for once you finally do. I long for the days where the sun is shining and home finally feels less like its dictionary definition, and more like the bliss that I dream of. I want it to feel exactly as it is supposed to; I want it to be everything I never had. The clicking of a dog's nails on hardwood floors, the clink of coffee being stirred, the clack of her high heels, and finally the pitter-patter of children who will grow up unafraid.

And just like that, it was a blast from the past, an invisible link formed between us. Your name rang a bell, the melody leading back to her, of course. "She used to talk about you." But what did she say? Was I just another shitty ex in her burn book? Like I always am. Was I another bad memory desperately erased, leaving holes in the pages from constant pressure? Why do I still care what others think of me, even after all this time, long after my chapter in their novel has finished, and the book is closed. It's waiting to be burned.

The preparation for the wedding was coming to a close, as the event drew nearer and nearer. Being a wedding planner had its perks, as I was able to organize everything to my liking, everything under my control leaving no worry or anxiety. My controlling nature was finally at ease as I had it all in my own hands. My fiancé had input, of course, but luckily we had come to so many agreements as well as compromises. If I wanted the cake to be vanilla, while he wanted chocolate, we settled on a mix; if I wanted the colors to be grey and mint, and he preferred navy and gold, we decided on a combination of mint, navy, and gold to weave our wants together; if I wanted a smaller, more intimate wedding and he desired a large, extravagant one, we sat down to carefully hand-pick the guests. It was a constant battle, one with occasional bickering, but it was a learning process. Over the last year and a half or so of dating I had learned a lot about him, and planning the wedding brought out even mo...

I had a dream I was kissing someone with my eyes closed. And I didn't even have to open them, because I knew it was you.

At this point in my life, I thought I had already discovered all of my insecurities. Especially considering the fact that most of them (if not, all) have been present for a majority of my adolescence and are now following me into adulthood, I assumed I had already been acquainted with all of them. Acne? Check. Crooked smile? Check. Various aspects of my body? Check, check, and check . Only now have I recently realized that I have developed a new insecurity. Who would've thought that at the age of nineteen, I could suddenly become incredibly insecure about something I previously gave no consideration at all? Well, here we are... When I entered college, one of the first questions I was asked by my roommate was the infamous and oh-so heavily dreaded, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I politely told her that I didn't, because, well, it was true at the time; I had broken up with my boyfriend after two short months together. I quickly realized that this question would be repeat...

The show has ended, the people disperse, the smoke dissipates into the night sky. But then, I hear that noise and I freeze, looking everywhere around me. Searching for signs of injured people, waiting for the screams. But then there's nothing but laughs and I feel paranoid, but am I really paranoid when this happens all the times? Too many times have I seen it on the news, in the papers, in my dreams; it doesn't belong anywhere. Fireworks or gunshots? One, the other, or both? Who knows! It's just fireworks, I remind myself. Not a shooting, not here, not right now, not today. Not today, not ever. Happy Fourth of July to the nation that makes me constantly question my safety.

"I don't know," I stare out the window, across the desolate parking lot, darkness haunting the edges, only one streetlight in sight, "I haven't had my heart broken in awhile," I confess. Silently, somewhere, deep down, in caverns unexplored, I hear a whisper softly say, "Because you don't let anyone break your heart anymore."

I don't want to give up the shoes that were first worn while wandering the city streets with her. They gave my feet hell, proudly causing blisters, but they were worth it in the end. I remember staring down at them while riding back on the train after she unexpectedly grabbed my hand, confirming the hesitation that surrounded us. We took a picture of our feet, as we sat on the curb waiting for our ride, all of our shoes together, in sync, just as we were right before we broke apart, eager to roam as we had to in order to truly find ourselves. They wore themselves down with grace and dignity, carrying me through different towns and trails, hiding adventures in their soles, and magic in their dirtied laces. I don't want to throw them away and get a new pair, because although they can physically be replaced, there's no guarantee that the beautiful, tangible memories ever possibly could. That is what I am most scared of in life-- that the new memories laying in the future co...