Do you remember that night on the roof? The night I could feel my body ache as you talked? Do you remember how you confided in me the way you felt? I do, I remember how you told me of the girl you had found, the girl who you described. You described how her brown hair flowed in ways you've never noticed, how her nose crinkled just ever so slightly when you told her the joke that I told you.
I remember looking at the stars. I remember not being able to look at the stars, I remember hiding it so well that you could think that a raindrop had fallen directly from my tear duct, not a tear. There was no other sign, I did so well. If it were not for the tears that flowed, that didn't stick, you wouldn't know, and you didn't. I remember hearing you, in a haze, say how she's the one you've waited for.
Waiting's a funny thing, I realized that night. That a word meant to describe a passage of time, that you're there, on and armed for the moment, meant no specificity of time. The time in which you waited for her were microseconds to me, were barely fathomable compared to me, was barely time at all to me. Oh, I remember, I so incredibly remember wanting to reach for you and grab you, tell you how you're wrong, that this is wrong, she's wrong. I am here, where is she? How could you do this to me? I thought so hard about the question, I did and thought, until I couldn't think, couldn't think about anything, anyone but you. I wanted to ask you to forget about her, I wanted to tell you that I'm the one here, I was the one who held you when your tears couldn't stop and you weren't able to hide it as well as me. I was there when you couldn't think straight because you had drunk so much that you couldn't stop screaming about dying. About how you thought that there was nothing to live for in this world and that all we can do is live with the pain we create for ourselves. Do you remember that I was the one who held your chin up, smiled a hopeful smile and reminded you that I'm here, that we're in this boat upon rocky water together. I know you do, but what does it matter?
This is because of me, my problems come from my own decisions. You didn't even know. I think I figured somewhere along you would figure it out. That you could see through my clumsy disguise, that you would be able to discern my cries for help for my calls for you. I hid it so well that the billboards pointing to my beating heart looked like road signs, driving you elsewhere.
I remember the full moon that night. The night I needed to find clarity, the night I wished I never lived through. I remember driving to our spot, our spot on the tallest hill in our nowhere. It was ours. We spent years of our lives there, doing so much as boys do. We explored our own passages within keeping our footing, never too far to the extremes. We lived, we learned at our spot at the top of town, the lights from cars and buildings shining up at us. The air always lighter, the grass always greener here. Or it was, at least, until the night that I drove here at some odd hours. We had our own spots, your car always parked on the other side of the hill as mine and we would meet at the top. I walked, sluggishly, to the top to look down at the world as if I had a reason to be above it, to maybe convince myself that I did. I remember getting to the top and sitting, with a feeling of none. A lack of feeling was all I could feel. My eyes looked around with my head absorbing none of what I was seeing.
Until I saw your car on the other side of the hill.
I admit my heart raced a little faster when I saw it. I was relieved, I could feel something other than nothing at last. I can see my feet moving towards it, no longer a memory but a trance I fall into once in every while.
I remember getting closer to your car, wondering why you would sit there instead of our spot. I didn't have to ponder for very long until I could understand. I didn't want to understand at the time, I still don't. I remember piecing it together a little slower than I wish I would've. I remember hearing a sort of distant cry, I think I thought you or an animal was in distress. I think I knew what it was before I believed it. I remember seeing the wheels of the car planted, the body swaying ever so slightly, I remember the feeling of my stomach dropping, the fall of it hitting when I could see her head against the window of the backseat. I remember seeing your hand move to hold her head in it. I remember seeing you move her to a different part of the backseat. I remember seeing you on top of her, with no shirt and with what I could assume nothing else. I could feel the rain fall onto my head, masking the tears that fell without hold. I couldn't remember, in hindsight, ever feeling like that before, having so little control over something I cared for so deeply. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, couldn't believe any of what was happening, any of what I was feeling, any of what I thought I knew. You were kissing her, so deeply, so heartfelt that I knew I couldn't bear much more, I knew you would do this. I knew this deep down, I didn't think I would be around for it to happen. I hate you, I'm in love with you so much that I swear you couldn't even cut the strings attached with the sharpest blade. I'm still planted, I want to scream at you to get off of her, to get rid of her, I want to punch you and her, I want to get in my car and ram yours. Maybe then you'd feel the hurt I feel now.
I finally crumple in the mud and rain. I'm drenched and couldn't care. I don't. The numbness has been replaced with a burning hurt and anger.
A long while later, the car starts, the headlights cut on and you turn in the direction away from me. I suppose then it would've been easy for you to spot me, you don't, why would the world give that to me? I don't care. You're gone, you always will be. I don't care, you should be. I guess I got up. I guess I drove home, I don't remember.
But I do remember, I remember who you were before her, I remember who you were with me. I could be everything you need to see if you'd only let me. I could be the one you smile at, the one you talk about excitedly.
For you, I will learn to be alone. For you, I'll choose to leave the one who must learn more than I.
