Take me back, beater time machine.
My eyes have sunken, and my spirit feels brittle and broken. I look physically ill from the mental anguish I feel. People notice, out there. It hurt growing used to that through the years. It wasn’t always like this. I used to feel whole. I had my family, my friends. Just bring it back, all the happiness. Let me feel as free as I used to.
I’ll never forget the makeup and drag my best friend pulled off against the odds. He’d spray his hair, do his eyes and we’d go thrifting downtown. We were always on the look out for kiss boots and classic vinyls. We walked everywhere back then. I actually wonder if the “All you need is Love” is still in the alley by the Astra. It stayed written in dust for almost a decade. Cliche little legend.
I miss the gut laughs. Horror movie nights at Ed’s. Walks with Ellis. Meeting Powers at Walmart and helping him through girlfriend trouble. Idk why, but anytime you and I gave girlfriend advice, to Jordan, or Powers, we ended up resorting to aviators, hair gel and a v neck like it was a magic cure or something.
I miss reading your stuff, too. I still have one you printed out back then, the neon solstice poem about “rehab and pretty girls” haha
I always tried to go back to Patoka and reminisce or relive the nostalgia but it was gone when our group of friends disbanded. I wish I could return and call it the wonder years or something. Like a movie… But no, it was emptiness I felt. I started avoiding going back. I did that with everything, though. When I found my dad, everything changed. Happiness was impossible. Moving on was impossible. Depression is a pit, endless. It steals so much.
I can’t wait for this to be over. I’m not sure what my mom’s going to say. I know she’ll be heartbroken. But I’m ready. And I wrote a draft to explain myself and help her heal/understand my condition. How long it’s been like this.I’m going to rewrite it because I didn’t explain it enough in the draft. And it’s two pages long. I never tell her anything. I don’t want anyone to see me in a coffin, either. If it were a closed coffin, I’d be okay with that. I’m okay with being cremated. It’s something I had to grapple with, you know? Erasing myself.. No longer existing. It honestly doesn’t matter.