𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐀𝐍, guy germaine (✓)

02. notions for the naive

june 24th, 2009

dear guy,

i desperately want to know how you are.
do you still think of me? sometimes i hope you do, and other times i hope that you have forgotten all about me. right now, i think you'd be better off that way.
i had a dream last night that you showed up at the door. it was raining, and your hair was soaked and plastered to your forehead, but you still looked like perfection. precious, like you'd always been. you took my hands and begged me to marry you and run away with you. to forget about david and my father.
my heart swelled, and then i woke up.
fear overcame me as i watched david's sleeping figure next to me, and i hoped i hadn't spoken in my sleep by accident. that would be catastrophic.
but, god, if that dream were real, i would have said yes a thousand times.

do you still live in st. paul? if you do, i'm not too far from you. geographically, i suppose. in all the other ways, i feel thousands of miles away from you.
how have the ducks been? i remember my bony self skating across the lake with you and charlie, passing the puck between us unskillfully and tripping over our own feet.
those were good times.
at least, they were before my father stepped in and told me i wasn't allowed to play hockey anymore. it took up too much up my time, he said, and it was rather unladylike.
i had complied at the time, but i wish i'd told him that i was glad that it was fucking unladylike and i would continue to do it regardless of his opinion.
i guess it was smart that i didn't. i knew what would happen to me if i did.

i was looking at an old sewing box in the attic, sifting through a few faded pictures of myself back in school. i had so much life in my eyes, such a bounce to my step, such color in my face.
now, it's a chore to wake up.

being married isn't such a beautiful thing, after all. that notion is for the naive.

love, gracie.