Say You'll Remember Me After They Give You A Sponge Filled With Vinegar

Dear K,

It was so good to talk to you tonight. We really let those floodgates rip. I didn't call you because you texted me on my way home from work, I think I would have called you anyway. I called you because I knew in that moment that I needed to talk to you. Somehow over the years we have formed a bond where I just let everything fly at you.

Thank you.

When we got off the phone you were walking into a bar and so was I.

I sat down and ordered a martini. The bar was almost empty. Seven O'clock on a Wednesday. I started talking with the strangers at the bar. Well, stranger. She was the only other person there by herself, and I felt light and free, and so I pulled out all the stops and I was as charming and interesting and positive as I could be. I was too friendly.

After she asked my name I got wise.

I pushed in all the stops I'd pulled out. I met up with friends and said nice to meet you.

I spent the night talking to my friends and texting that old wound in my heart. The one that won't heal. The one that lives in Atlanta. It's still bleeding. As I was picking at it in front of my friends, I'd put down my phone and say that I needed to stop, it wasn't healthy. They laughed it off, but I kept sticking my fingers in, kept pulling at the edges looking for the signs of wear, looking for scars. By the end of the second martini I was ready to rip the whole damn thing out.

There aren't any scars. I've got a god damn stigmata on my heart.

On the walk home I realized that maybe nothing heals in there, maybe some things just pierce us deeper and truer, like spears that run us through. Maybe all we can do is let it consume us, let our hearts pump our lifeblood out in big watery spurts over the sidewalk. Maybe we should tear those wounds wide open and jump in. Maybe we should get down off of our crosses and really take a look. Maybe we should just do what we know we want to do but we're too scared to do. Maybe we should stay on our crosses and suffer for all eternity.

Or maybe we should forget the whole thing and go into the desert.

I don't know.

I'm tired and I'm going to bed.

All My Earthly Love,

K