fuck off cruel world

Seeing Number 5

I saw him tonight. Live and in the flesh. For the first time since June.
   People been saying he's MIA, dropped out, transferred, homeschooled. His brother would know, but I can't ask his brother. Asking would make it real. If I don't ask, I can pretend that any day he'll walk in the doors, like everything's fine. I can pretend that one day he'll appear in the crowd- football jersey, high fade that always needs to be cut, high top vans with those tiny skulls on them. I can pretend that I'll see him.

    There was a football game tonight, and everybody went. I knew, of course, what that would mean- it's a small city, there are only so many places to hang out on a Friday night. So I braced myself.
    But he wasn't there. Disappointment and relief, until I'm walking up the bleachers and suddenly someone calls my name. My friend, rushing back down the steps toward me, in a panic. Behind her, laughing with some guys, I see him.
    He changed his hair. It's way too long, and he's got it clumped in a bun on top of his head. And he's wearing a backpack- blue, faded, empty. Too many people- couldn't see his shoes. He said hi, his eyes squinted because he never wears his glasses, his tone accusatory without being rough, as if to say hey, I remember that you exist. And that was it, of course. I don't know if he talked to her. Maybe.
    But he was there, and I saw him.
    And that's the thing, about seeing. Because falling in love is like walking toward a manhole. You see it, you know that if you keep going straight you'll fall into it, so you prepare yourself to walk around it. Only once you reach it, you realize it was so much bigger than you expected, and you fall down, down, until you hit rock bottom. There is always a rock bottom, by the way, no matter how you feel or how they feel or how the two of you feel about each other. There will be a time when you hit the ground, and it will hurt.
    But anyway. I'm at rock bottom. And once you get there, there's only one way to go- up. So you start to climb- this long ass ladder that leads out of the manhole. You climb for two reasons, either because your person loves you too, and they're waiting at the top to pull you up. Or you climb because that person isn't at the top, so you'll have to drag yourself out.
    Scenario one can't work, because he wasn't gonna be at the top. God knows where he is. And I know it wouldn't be this hard if I saw him everyday- if I had a million times a day to hope that he would say something, to see him laugh, to hear his voice. If I knew that I would see him the next day.
    But I can't, so that leads to scenario two. So I climb, and I'm almost at the top, I'm doing so good, I'm getting ready to drag myself out of this hole, and keep walking.
    And then I see him. And seeing him is like getting pushed all the way back down to rock bottom. Falling all over again.
    So now I'll climb. For what reason? I don't know. can't climb to keep walking, because I'll never be prepared to stop myself from falling down again.
   And I can't climb to meet him at the top, because I don't know if i will. I don't know if he'll be there.
    I don't know when I'll see him again.