#77. going home
April, 2007
Dear instigator and sweet product of my personal revolution,
Remember the time we conspired to rebel against the authorities by dying our hair green & blue, and went through with it? Shocking people from every angle with our innocent passion for a weapon was only the beginning of our soulful partnership. No one really understood the nuts and bolts of our heartfelt operation, but it also didn't matter. Our internal dispositions so perfectly lined up offered the ideal alliance of insubordination. Endless conversations on social justice and world peace formed the basis of our personal missions. And you know, your name is still imprinted on these humanistic values of my daily life.
And remember when we stayed up late into the night in the back of my car in a dark sketchy parking lot? And your mom was so worried she stayed up, too. But instead of getting high, or having unprotected sex, or whatever else it was that teenagers were supposed to do, we discussed French cinema. And melted over the overwhelming sensation of our hands touching. Hands touching, delicate skin, fingers intertwined. I asked you your favorite part of the hand; you pointed to the soft area between the thumb and the pointer finger. At the time, mine was the curve that connects the thumb and the wrist, but now I can’t agree more with yours. Every time I touch that particular area now, I still think of you and your undeniable influence.
I remember also your slender silhouette and piercing eyes that looked deep within my soul. At times, we needed no words to understand each other’s true emotions. I don’t think I believed in soulmates then, but now I wonder differently. You always held my broken spirit safe and whispered faith into my heart. I doubt I would’ve had the strength to fight without your encouraging presence at my side, and for that I thank you.
And to me, your essence will forever remain in the sanctuary of my memory as something beautiful.
P.S. I always look forward to hearing about your new life; do write.
Love, more than you ask for,
your inevitable partner in crime
Dear instigator and sweet product of my personal revolution,
Remember the time we conspired to rebel against the authorities by dying our hair green & blue, and went through with it? Shocking people from every angle with our innocent passion for a weapon was only the beginning of our soulful partnership. No one really understood the nuts and bolts of our heartfelt operation, but it also didn't matter. Our internal dispositions so perfectly lined up offered the ideal alliance of insubordination. Endless conversations on social justice and world peace formed the basis of our personal missions. And you know, your name is still imprinted on these humanistic values of my daily life.
And remember when we stayed up late into the night in the back of my car in a dark sketchy parking lot? And your mom was so worried she stayed up, too. But instead of getting high, or having unprotected sex, or whatever else it was that teenagers were supposed to do, we discussed French cinema. And melted over the overwhelming sensation of our hands touching. Hands touching, delicate skin, fingers intertwined. I asked you your favorite part of the hand; you pointed to the soft area between the thumb and the pointer finger. At the time, mine was the curve that connects the thumb and the wrist, but now I can’t agree more with yours. Every time I touch that particular area now, I still think of you and your undeniable influence.
I remember also your slender silhouette and piercing eyes that looked deep within my soul. At times, we needed no words to understand each other’s true emotions. I don’t think I believed in soulmates then, but now I wonder differently. You always held my broken spirit safe and whispered faith into my heart. I doubt I would’ve had the strength to fight without your encouraging presence at my side, and for that I thank you.
And to me, your essence will forever remain in the sanctuary of my memory as something beautiful.
P.S. I always look forward to hearing about your new life; do write.
Love, more than you ask for,
your inevitable partner in crime