Needless To Say [ON HOLD]

One

March 22nd, 2019

9:43 AM

Dear man (quite literally) of my dreams,

I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing. My therapist recommended I write down what I remember, but I haven't done so, until three months after she'd suggested it. I know, but I don't, do you understand me?

So, it's been three months since she'd told me to.

I'm not exactly sure who you are either, and I could've began my journal entries for my nice new moleskine notebook with a classic 'dear diary,' but I tend to talk more comfortably toward someone. You just happened to show up, and are unconsciously receiving the partial brunt of my recovery. God, that came out badly, but I can't be bothered in trying to figure out how it'd come out right.

Gosh darn, why am I so lazy?

I am sure you are someone important. I don't remember what you look like, but I know for sure you are male, and I don't remember what your voice sounded like, just that it sounded nice. It's a subconscious recognition. Is that the right way to say it? Now that I'm out of school, I feel dumber, in irony of my degree. Why hadn't you shown up earlier, though? Everyone else did.

Right now, Analese is doing her biannual 'Marathon Fiesta.' It's not how it sounds; the marathon isn't an actual one, it's just her watching and rewatching every tv show she thinks was interesting, and she used the word 'fiesta,' because she thought it made it sound more fun, with more, and I quote, pizazz.

The problem with this, however, is that she's not doing her homework. I'd finished university a year back, and she has been neglecting on a lot of her work, and would've missed them all if it weren't for Sawyer and I's forceful actions to make her, during her final year of college. We attended neighboring schools, Ana at UCLA, and myself landing an overwhelmingly lucky spot in Caltech.

Wow, I'm such a good friend. I'd smile, but no one would see such a wonderful sight that requires an excessive amount of energy.

Any amount is unnecessary.

Really, I wasn't going to use my degree after I'd gotten it, but I thank the lord, though I'm atheist, that I took the major, because now that my then potential ice hockey career has lost all chance, my computer science degree allows me to get work. I'm still unemployed, though, since my relatives and those close enough I'd basically call them relatives insist on my waiting a year before doing anything.

I don't see the point; working eight hours a day on a computer is not going to harm me. Not any more than here, and I have not had even a scratch from anyone but myself for the past four months.

I'm not sure why I'd finally began remembering you, four months after the incident, three after the apparent faint memories of people have began to come back. I'm nearly completely recovered, but I am truly baffled as to why you've stood out from the rest. My near memories to the event may never come back, but to know that you are, means I either will get some back, maybe yours was a strange one of a bunch, or you really aren't that recent in my mind. I usually remember my memories when I wake up, for at least the first half hour or so, but it is currently nine forty something in the morning and I've only been awake for around ten minutes. You honestly don't know how drowsy I am.

You know what I just thought of, though? How I want to write a book, and possibly earn from it, despite the fact that my vocabulary sucks always. Not just right now.

My J. K. Rowling aspirations weren't coming true anytime soon.

I found this poem I wrote back in eighth grade, when I was looking through my possessions, something my therapist also told me to do to try to speed up my recollection of memories, inspired by Lost Generation by some guy named Jonathan Reed. My poem sounds horrid now that I read it.