super frictonal {diza}

chapter: 8

rem·i·nisce

\ˌreməˈnis\
verb
indulge in enjoyable recollection of past events.

    the sun shined through my closed, ruffled, white curtains as his fingertips burned my skin in places i desired to keep to myself, places i desired for my own, places that were irresistible to the fawn eyes of dobrik.

    i laid there, as silent as a page written in a book. though, it was loud and clear. even asia could hear my thoughts, anyone could've. and i was near to one-hundred percent that josh could hear them.

    i regretted last night.

    and i scrunched my eyebrows together at the thought of it. at the thought of us, really. it was inevitably treacherous. which didn't make any sense to me considering my feelings were muted by the touching of his whispers ringing into my ear, and neglecting any sort of uncertainty i had minuets before the act. however, stupidity is contagious, and i caught the virus from the one, the only, dobrik. therefore, his actions got the best of me. had he not been so stupid as to allowing me to meet him, fallen in love with his idiocy, and allow myself to accept the fact that i wasn't the one he loved, none of this would've happened.

    i would've stayed home that night of the party when him and i first met, possibly reading an ongoing close connection i have to a book titled "the river why" by david james duncan and rereading about gus and his, quote on quote, "here, then, is a funny, sensitive, unforgettable story about the relationships among men, women, the environment, and the human soul—about love of place, love of people, and the spiritual forces that firmly join them." i would've been confused, as i most likely was the thousandth and fifty-two times i reread that book. i could imagine my cheeks sinking into my teeth while i stared at that sentence as a preteen, puzzled by the words of a flawed perfection to a minimized rendition. i would've scoffed, and skipped through the letters, words, pages, chapters even.

    i would've thought it was clichè, and in a way, it was, it truly was. talking about love, how goddamned clichè? but how goddamned true. so true, in fact, i could've sworn it was something my mother told me when she was giving me one of her illustrious devotions about—get ready for it. life. yes, life. goddamned life. god flipping life. another clichè added to the list, that is. but she knew what she was talking about, as well did gus.

    and another thing i would've done, is not gotten so attached. i wouldn't have met him, and i wouldn't have fallen in love with him, and i wouldn't have gotten so close to him to the point where i could read what he was thinking, as if he had written a whole book for me to read. and i wouldn't have seen him change into a soul full of stupidity, and i definitely wouldn't be here, in the arms of someone else's, wishing it were his.

    the birds chirping behind the windowsill abruptly interrupted my thoughts. i watched as a bluebird pecked at the window multiple times, chirping and flapping its little wings, trying to escape the outside. swiftly it moved to the opposite side of the window, still pecking. most people would expect it to be annoying, but i found it, as if it were a breath of fresh air. only because i knew how that bird felt.

i smiled, softly. though i had no desire for the bird, he or she deserved a name. laska, i thought. its name is laska. which in the slovak language means "love". david taught me that, and i kept it in mind. the bird deserved a name full of power yet vulnerability, in the case of some minds would say.

       "rains pour down without water,
        and the rivers are streams of light.
        one love it is
        that pervades the world;
        few there are who know it fully."
                                                          -Kabir

    that was how i felt, thunderstorms prevailed yet, i tried. and i know i'll find a different kind of love. as will the bird.

    laska looked good on the bird, i thought. welcome to the world, laska.