the space above my ears.

Recognizing the Greener Things in Life

I've never been one to say what I'm thinking.

I speak cautiously to the point where it's simply bland, flavorless nonsense at times.

There's this coffee filter in the back of my throat that catches the thoughts from my center and leaves them to build up in my larynx until I choke and cough it all out at once.

The way I speak sounds pretty dejected, but it felt good.

The nights we spent sharing secrets in sleeping bags, when our only desires were to have M&M's in our popcorn.

I never had to be scared because you guarded the bathroom door of the church when I was changing my clothes, you laughed and helped me up when I tripped over the step-stool in the dark hallway.

This one is not supposed to be sad.

It's an apology for what I never told you when I should have.

There's something about nostalgia that is so cruel, but I have forgiven you and now I need to forgive myself.

I'm going to let the memories make me smile and I won't feel bad about it anymore.

I hope you've already done the same.

The world was peach-colored and infinite.

You fell asleep on the airplane and I wanted to hold you, just a little.

I didn't, though, and your neck hurt when you woke up.

I clench my jaw in something like anticipation and my teeth grind together and break, spiderweb cracks dancing all the way up my skull.

There's so many things I never got to warn you about and those things are stuck to the bottom of my tongue at all times of the day.

It tastes disgusting.

Memory is like a parasite, you know.

You should take some antibiotics for that.

Come to think of it, I should too. We'll take a trip to the pharmacy tomorrow.

We're home now, and your room is a mess.

Pick up the colored pencils off the floor, bring all the cups on the nightstand back upstairs.

Maybe you can fall asleep if you vacate your mind.

Replace it all with pale berries and glassing the buttes from inside the pickup truck.

That's cute, I like that.

It's especially nice when you consider the fact that no place in the world is always bright.

A wave of glory washes over you and it's confusing but lovely.

You're drifting away and considering all the possibilities, it's taking too long.

I'll give you a clue.

Turn the mirror on its side and turn your head in the opposite direction.

Take your time, mutualism is an alien concept. You won't get it right away.

It's valid and it's normal.

You are valid.

You'll come upon the easter egg with the fortune cookie inside and you'll laugh at how ridiculous it was to ever doubt yourself in the first place.

These, these are the things I want to say to you.

You need to hear them, but not from me, so who will tell you?

The man working in the lobby, the doorkeeper; he gave me a smile when we walked in so he might be on our side.

I suppose it would be like throwing him an anvil and expecting him to catch it.

That's not very ethical and we are simultaneously deceiving ourselves.

What's the word for that?

Oh, yes, 'counterproductive'

I'll place the little flags where you can see them, and maybe you'll shove your unfaithfulness aside for a minute, only long enough to notice.

I don't think that's breaking the rules if I stay unspecific enough.

Yes, yes, I can work with that.

I can move your toothbrush to the left side of the sink.

Play piano when you're home and maybe you'll listen.

It's hard to tell you so many things when I can only use seven letters, though.

I guess I can try and move on.

I can stop needing to mend what's permanently broken, recycle this obnoxious hero complex I just don't have the heart to throw away.

But I don't want to remember it like that because there was so much good sheathing the bad.

I want to be sitting alone in a cafe in 7 years after a long shift and think "damn, those were the good old days."

Write me back when you can.

Love, your friend.