White Text - 07

whitetext was a private livejournal account I kept following a breakup in 2004. The entries came from a deep depression. They have been recollected here for data preservation.

i slept early the past two nights. i slept early and woke up early. it was cleansing, cathartic. i hoped to do it more, but i stayed up late tonight talking. it was worth it, of course. any time you can trade sleep for secrets it is worth it. and the secrets i learned were good ones too. but i’ve always been a very solemn secret keeper, so i wont go into it more, not even on here (my secret & private journal).

i can recall the way she smelled in the car as soon as i sat down. the aroma was strongest on her hands, in her palms and wrists. i made some comment about palm reading and she let me examine them closely. i inhaled deeply, taking her farther and farther inside. she was floating there, smokey like a campfire, raw and emotional like a sweaty dream. she wore “rain” but i never smelled it. i bought the scent once to see if it would bring back memories. her smell was different. it was the natural smell of her body. her sister had a similar one, but never again have i smelled hers exactly.

despite secrets, pain continues. the more recent past is moving on quickly. the terms she already bestows on her new interest disgusts me, but i turn my head. she is gone for good. i wont speak with her again. that decision was the hardest.

in the wintertime we woke up early one day. school started at 7:20 normally, but that day we started 2 hours late. we took the opportunity. each of us woke up at 4:30, and i was picked up by 5. we toyed with the idea of an early morning diner, and later stopped off for coffee before classes began, but at first nature was calling us. we drove to the local branch library, small and unsatisfying in itself, it held the doorway to a park hidden in the trees. we knew about it, each of us, from different places. that was the first and only time we stopped there. we walked to a small stone bridge a quarter-mile inside the forest and sat on the edge overlooking a small waterfall. back then there were no railings on the bridge. we lay against the cold cement and bundled ourselves in our coats and against each other. her smell was strong, and so was the other’s. i was in the middle, soaking them in like the cold dampness all around me. i wont recall again what was said, what jokes were passed, or what people we talked about. i don’t recall ever opening my mouth. i remember the haze over the water, the early morning sounds of winter, and most of all, the smell of cold damp air mixed with the essence of those two who were closest to me in the world.

there are fond memories of all of them. they haunt me like uncountable ghosts, settling on my arm and revealing my lamentations. i used to cry myself to sleep every night, and vomit every morning. my sickness used to be skin deep.

This page is cryptographically signed with my public key.