my room was sea foam green

as unnecessary as it is, its almost perfect. like a little shove, a nudge really, leading me into the right direction. or rather, making the wrong direction seem less and less appealing. all i really ever wanted to do was to be close, to be next to that seemingly miraculous being. for so long, i let the wheels in my head turn and turn and replay certain encounters to try to pick out things i said right or wrong. to try to figure out why you would go on trips to who knows where until who knows when. i always felt that i was somehow at fault, although i admirably attempted to convince myself otherwise. and those few rare moments when you were home, when things were exactly as i wanted them, when it was like that one february, i always had a sneaking suspicion creeping up my spine that the bliss was only temporary. the suspicion was always right.

right now i stand at the corner of fate and failure. fate is relatively clear. life will go on, with or without me. i will eventually put down the tools from the hardware store. i will leave behind peter pan's green hat. i will wrap my arms around something else, something more sturdy and less hypocritical. and it will be okay.

as i am aware of each crinkle under my feet, i will never forget that failure. the constant ache of the rock that is sitting in the pit of my stomach. the wad of gum lodged in the back of my throat making it near impossible for me to ever take a complete deep breath. the visual reminders of those beautiful helpful little nick-nacks.

and i like the wooden beads. they are thick and sturdy and opaque. they stretch far more than the ribbons or lace. i like how sweet they smell when they are damp. but thats besides the fact, im still wearing my heart on my sleeve. see it. smell it. listen to it. ask about it. care about it. want it. love it.

love it. i love it. i always have and i always will.

{33} remember. because i wont remind you. this is like a test, you will likely fail.