I remember the countless nights I spent in my junior year in high school just sitting in my car. I would wait and watch the time pass on, have a cigarette and look at the digital clock. Every night, the pacing, pacing, pacing. All the time wasted in darkness praying, praying. I would wake up in tears from the sights I couldn’t remember, that face; so pure, and those eyes; dark brown. The curls would fall so far from the end of the scalp down to that spot just below the chin, and the layering strands ran further on down as low as her chest and naval. God, those eyes; so dark, dark, just like the hall I would sit in and wait, like the car and the canal bridge where I would sit.
I would always wait. Just keep on waiting, I didn’t know why. These dreams were real, like memories. The taste was so soft and so warm, like the embrace; so real, so god damn real. I couldn’t stop the dwelling, the dwelling on the fact of the matter that I just couldn’t be there in that place that seemed so close yet lived far away in my head, just tumbling through the universe of nothing that dwelt within. But she was my savior in all situations that I had not lived through. Almost like I had been there, but not ever been. The touch, touch, touch; so warm and subtle.
The times I dreamt of her were torment, more so than the nightmares I had when I was not dreaming of her. I would wonder why something so great could cause me so much pain. This hole is deep, deep, so fucking deep inside of me. Tremble. Can’t stop the shake, the cold so strong. No choice but to grab on and hold so tight, because this was as close to an embrace as I would get from her, the cold embrace.
Oh, but the nightmares I would have were never as bad as seeing her and holding and kissing her, and speaking that name. My nightmares were very straightforward, blunt, and blunt. The most memorable nightmare… Walking home from some place. I see lots of dark, then come the flashes of things I don’t remember, but somehow tie into myself. Then I rip my eyes from their sockets and scream. Suddenly I’m in the room, you know the room; the red one with the quiet lights burning in the corners and the silence, the fucking silence and the tremble. The shake. Then the door begins to open, so slowly, slow. The cold winds rush in and you feel the breathe all over you; the presence of the one coming in slowly, so slow. The creak of the door as you watch the shadows kill the lights. The empty heart within your chest beating and moving nothing through your body; you’re naked and your body is not listening to your thoughts, no matter how much you wan to run or scream or flee. Then you see those eyes, those cold eyes staring at you, the contours in the face bent and crooked and those eyes, those eyes. The whole time you think this should just end and be gone.
I see the old lady, the crone. She’s staring at the silence, and me so quiet. It won’t break, just break, I need it to break god please. But now your heart is clenching, holding, aching. The sound, I need it, just bring it here. Silence. Then it breaks as she calls my name, I can’t breathe form the cracking of the tone so sudden and harsh and so fast, so unappealing. Then she grabs me and I’m out of the room back at home in my safe warm bed and feel the blood in my veins cold and still shaking all over.
This all seemed terrifying to me, but the thing that would top it most was the girl. The curly fry. At least with the nightmares the images fade, but not her. She would never leave after I began to see her in my dreams. She would haunt my every moment. Even now as I write these words in the darkness of my room there is a girl in my bed asleep and I’m awake, because I cannot end these memories that I have never lived with the curly fry.
I know I’ll never see her. I know she’ll live in without me, better off, too perfect for me. I’ll live here in darkness. But I would give it all away, just to hold her again.
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