Good Times

“These tears are not tears for you! Please – Don’t be so fucking arrogant. I stand here on this ledge not because of what you’re doing to me, but because of what I’ve allowed to you take from me. So go! Leave me here. In the beautiful place we once shared! Just run! Meanwhile, don’t look back. This place will soon be colored the shade of my blood. I will leave myself here where you found me and left me - on this quiet bluff where lightening strikes. Just know, this is where it all ends.”

These were the last words I ever spoke. He took one step which caused me to falter. I had not meant to leave the world that day. At least the day I died was a day to be remembered. The moon was just rising with a perfectly orange colored crescent. The thin sliver that should have been pale was perfectly stained with the acidity of my tears. The world could feel my pain. The willows wept ever deeper to the earth.

“I never meant for you to be dealing with all of this. I’m sorry! Please…”

The rush of the wind was all I could I hear. My heart raced – impact was imminent. “Brace yourself, this is going to hurt.” These words echo loudly in my soul. Oh how rational I was even in death. Never once did I cry out in anger at you. Oh no. I was never angry. I died willingly in the place we met, where we went when things were tough. We spent hours talking about how to love and lose love. There were times we shared tears from fear of having to watch the other die. Oh the Irony.

Was it not I that told you I would be the one to leave this world unexpectedly and due to your ineptitudes? Oh yes. I think we shared many laughs about this. Now, you’re sleeping in our perfectly made bed with another lover. My death, witnessed, wasn’t enough to make you feel. You have my soul. I’m bound to be here for eternity if I must. As if the life we led wasn’t torture enough, I’m bound by love in the afterlife - the sick joys of purgatory. I wish you could hear me now. I’m thinking so loudly. I know how to get to you, the alarm. YES – I have bested you. You may have caused my death, but death cannot keep me from making you know I’m still here. I win. Down for the count you may seem. Just wait. It will all hit you in the face, and like my death, you cannot stop this. Now is the time, 12:16am.

“Beep… Beep… Beep”

With a start I jump to my feet. Could it be I had slept in again!? “I am dead!” were the only words I could muster. My body was sore. I felt as if I had made love with boulders. I lay awaiting the sweet sounds of Sirens for a good ten minutes.

“Beep… Beep… Beep…”

Alright, the Sirens sing. The last cramp is slowly worked from my leg. As I look around the room I begin to feel the pains of not being home. These are lonely times. Times that leave me tripping over my own fears and insecurities. While walking so strait, so tall, and so sure of myself, I wonder how I became so broken. "Cosmically unfair...," your words now echo in my mind - always the master of understatements.

“You know,” I begin my monologue as I stare myself in the mirror “I think I’d still give you everything I have. There are a few things I’ve learned in my short life of 30 years. The most important thing is love. It is the most difficult feeling of all to quantify, and yes, you are so right ‘love is felt differently by every person.’ Of course it is, you fool! Have you really thought of how silly you sound right now? Everyone feels things differently. What I feel will never be what you feel. This is human nature. We are allowed these times to feel free in the comfort of our loved ones. Oh – that would be assuming our loved ones accept our feelings and know we would not give them unless we trusted ourselves to give freely without the expectation of return. I was never so lucky. You never allowed me the chance. Still, you move me in a way that I find myself standing before this mirror sick with love (ugh, the pain. Perhaps vomiting is the only solution?). Oh, where are you now? I’d love to say this to your face. You used to cry for me – for the fear of watching me leave your life. Well, here you go. I’m nothing more than a skeleton. You have put me on this path of proclaimed cosmic unfairness. It is up to me now to do something with it.”

With those last few words, I try to divert the pain of my dream and the loss of love. I do my best to dwell on the amazing night that was had not hours prior. I wish I weren’t so unsure. This time is clearly not the time to be venturing down a road paved with gold. It is, however, so very tempting. I crawled into bed so peaceful and happy. There was a moment. It seemed as if Mars had finally aligned with Venus. Then you blurted out, “Good Times!” oh you. I smile in a way that is seen by only you. It is the smile of someone who knows why these words are spoken.

The implied insecurities are as toxic as my drunken breath. Ok, that’s a lie. I’m not drunk in the technical sense. Could it be a metaphorical feeling - one of drunken freedom? Oh – fuck it all! Let it all go. This will be the end. Perhaps I have finally learned that fighting is only going to get me so far in life, and with life hanging by a thin thread (granted it is spider’s silk I cling to), I will let it all wash over me. These are good times. These are the times in life we learn about ourselves. These are the times that allow us to just dream. Yet, I’m still hanging. My grip getting ever looser, grab me now or watch me fly.