Eleven Seconds

one || one

October 17th. I think it must be what some people call fate: that you were there. I don’t really remember much about October, to tell you the truth, except for fragments of you. Which is really a shame, because from the broken pieces it seems like it should have been a not-so-bad time. Except for the sick maybe, but that was always there so I was used to that.

November 12th when we wished on stars and you wouldn’t tell me what you’d wished for. When I wouldn’t tell you either because that wouldn’t be fair at all. And you’d laughed at me, which I didn’t understand because it really wasn’t fair.

December 21st was the day you told me you loved me. And I said you were crazy, because who could love a broken person? And you smiled, like you would when you thought I was speaking nonsense, and I could see you mulling over words even though you already knew what you wanted to say. Til you finally said, ‘I could’.

Which really is crazy, so I wasn’t wrong when I said that, even if the crazy in you couldn’t understand at the time. Sometimes I got things right…

June 2nd when I told you I think I might love you, but it might be the sick talking. And you said that either way, you would take it, as long as I promised not to stop ‘maybe loving you’. And I thought that seemed fair enough, so why not. That was the day you wore the sky blue t-shirt, with the hole in the fabric near the hem that you didn’t notice.

But I didn’t think to tell you, because the sky blue reminded me of the clouds and the October that I couldn’t quite remember. And we talked for a long while in June, and you held my hand and I didn’t let go like I should have. The blue was too soft and I didn’t want to let go just yet…

August? I think it was August but I can’t really remember because the sick took the dates away from me. There were lots of cold white walls, and needles prodding veins that were much too weak for any of this, and too many half-hearted smiles from doctors and nurses. Like they knew better than anyone that this sick wouldn’t go away like it had before, but they weren’t allowed to say it out loud.

This was the month that I would wake up and see you asleep at the foot of my bed, and I would get angry because you shouldn’t be here. Because you shouldn’t love broken people. You shouldn’t love sick people; and you would smile, like you did when you knew I was wrong but you were going to let me keep talking anyways until I inevitably ran out of breath.

And you would take my hand and tell me I looked like shit, which you always said was a joke, but it was probably a little true too. Maybe a lot true…

A week ago was the week that you never showed up. And I kept waking up and thinking that I would see you asleep on my feet again, with your hair a mess all tangled up in the sheets and tucked behind your ear. But every time I opened my eyes, it was just the white walls and the needles in my arms. But it was okay, because I figured maybe you’d come to your senses. But it was still a little lonely, and I got a little sadder. Maybe something had come up and you would be here later. But that was just the sick talking, I think.

Two days ago was the day that the sky looked blue like your shirt, and I could see it outside the fogged up window panes. And I got really angry for no good reason, because why weren’t you here, and why had you left when all I wanted was to see your stupid grin and not let go of your hand like I should. This was the day they gave me some new medicine and it burned my arm as it snaked its way through my too thin veins, and tears welled up that I had to bite my lip to keep in.

Yesterday and I felt a little better. Ate a little more, slept a little shorter, and hated you a little less. I think maybe I just made you up, but then again I think maybe not. Either way, I have still kept my promise. I wonder if you even remember about the promise..

Today. The sky is grey, and my heart hurts a little, and I feel like crying but I don’t know why. But maybe I do. I tell them I want to go outside, and they don’t smile at me like you used to when I said something that’s maybe not a good idea. They just let me go, and maybe they know. I think they must; it’s their job after all.

Today. Half an hour before and I start crying, and I can taste the salt but I can’t see October and I miss you. My legs feel heavy, like they can’t even hold themselves up and I think my knees might buckle so I collapse on the sidewalk outside the white wall hospital. And my chest feels like it’s going to explode and I hate you a lot.

Today. Five minutes before and my eyes are swollen red and I think to myself ‘you look like shit’ and I hate you a lot more than ten minutes ago. And my fingernails are digging tracks into my legs and it hurts, everything.

Today. One minute before and there is a spot of blue against the grey turmoil and I think I must be dreaming. And the blue gets closer and there is a hole that you didn’t notice by the hem and I am so confused. And you smile like you did when you told me you love me and I told you you were crazy.

Today. 11 seconds before the rain. And I tell you I love you again, but it is muffled by the October blue as I speak it into your shoulder. And I think maybe I’m the crazy one…
♠ ♠ ♠
ain't gonna lose you - brett dennen
music for a nurse - oceansize

today is a not good day and i miss kt....