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Holding onto Death

Holding onto Death

I met her one day. I've seen her before, walking around, but when I met her it was different. I fumbled across all my words. Her grace and carefree attitude had done this to me; paralyzed me. How would someone from our generation be so carefree when the world around us wants nothing more than to find our flaws so they could be used against us. Although from that moment of meeting her, her flaw was not her weakness. Her weakness no longer is in existence; therefore, being around her was different. She was just like me, a person stuck. I've been stuck for years now and the same goes for her. 

She reminds me of Her. As we talked and ordered multiple drinks in order to spice up the conversation, my imaging was being altered. It was as though Her and she were one in the same. Was I the same for her? Have I become one with her flaw? The bartender stopped serving us after a bit and just like that the image of Her disappeared and she had returned to my eyes. From her morbid expression and teary eyes, the same must have happened to her as well. She wiped her eyes, quickly jumped out of her seat and was fumbling around as she tried to gather her belongings. She pulled out a mascara pencil and took a nearby napkin and wrote her number down, "Call me soon", she said as she briskly left the bar. 

I asked the bartender for a soda for the road. He handed me a ginger ale as I gave him a 50 for my tab. I left without taking any change even though I know there was plenty of change. I felt bad for the bartender because he had no escape from eavesdropping the conversation I had with her. Her came to mind again, so as I promised her before, I would have to visit. However, I left from Her place and therefore I just went to my local cemetery as to symbolically fulfill my promise.

 She was kneeling before a tombstone. The tombstone seemed cleaner than the rest, as though, someone came and cleaned it on an almost daily occurrence. Has she not tried to at least part ways with him? It seems to be the only way; I was just like her before too, but I've changed since I left her burial spot. 

Random Thoughts - Growing Old Alone, Normal?

Random Thoughts - Growing Old Alone, Normal?

Weekend Writings #30

Weekend Writings #30