Wednesday 23 September 2015

Remains of this day

Sometimes I'm okay.  It’s just that I keep coming back to the not being okay.  I don’t want to keep coming back.  I want to forget the way, so that I can never come back here again.  I want to walk out of these hallways, out into the light, and never look back.  I want the boy with the red straws to wave goodbye to me from the stoop, a little smile on his face, because he knows I will never be back.  I want to leave all of the dogs and cats with him, because I know he’ll take care of them.  I want to see Mike jumping up and down, hear him shouting, “Good luck,” while Mary laughs at him.  I want Helga and even Ron and all of the others to be gathered behind the pirate kids, everyone waving goodbye and none of us feeling sad because this was how we all, secretly in our heart of hearts, hoped it would end.  I want to leave them to turn the giant, dark school building with the hallways that go everywhere and nowhere into a university with courtyards and windows and signs with directions.  I want them to leave me to walk off into the forest illuminated by mid-day sun. 

The morning has gone.  All I want now is the afternoon.  Please.


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