Now, I know what you're thinking. I really do, I'm good at those kinds of things. You're probably wondering why I'm talking with you, and why I still keep your memory so close to me after all these years. Yeah, it's been an awfully long time. It seems like just a moment has passed since we were together, though.... for me anyway. I've had nothing better to do in here but to sit and wonder what it'd be like being with you up in heaven. I haven't tried suicide since I was 16, but in my mind I have several hundred times since.
You don't know how lucky you are, Laura. Sometimes I wish I were you. I wish I didn't have this intense wanting to grow, despite the even more pressing desire to stay the same forever. You didn't have to go through this, though. People remember and love you the way you were, and you didn't have to do anything. You were naturally worthy of fitting in, I guess.
At 16, I did want to be the oak trees, I wanted to fit in and be equal. But now, in your mid 50s, fitting in isn't that imperative. It's how you feel about yourself that gets you noticed. I act and talk like I'm happy about my life, my past, my family, but I'm not. I've had nothing good happen to me in life. Except you. And even you're gone. It's times like these I wish I had finished slitting my wrists when I had the chance, as I can't do it now. One, my knuckles have arthritis, and two, I wouldn't have any razor blades to do it with. The doctors here are too paranoid to give me razors. It's not like anyone would actually miss me...
Ah. They tell me it's the third of October. I wonder if the leaves have turned their normal browns and oranges, and if the ducks have flown south for the winter yet. They don't let me out of this room, you see. I haven't been out in a long time. I'm surrounded by these intense white walls all day, every day, as I'm sure I will until my dying day. It's enough to make one go mad. Ha. They think I'm already mad, don't they Laura? I hear them talking at night, you know. That too, is terribly depressing. But there's nothing I can do about there. Call me crazy or not, it doesn't matter one bit.
So, my beautiful Laura, did you know what special day it is today? Assuming you have clocks and calenders up in heaven, that is. It's your 57th birthday today, Laura. I bet you don't feel that old. In fact, I know you don't. And even if you did, you'd still be the glowing 7 year old in my mind, the one who'd play board games with me, the one who would push me on our wooden swing, the one who bypassed growing.
Well, in these 50 years, I don't think I've grown a lot. I've physically grown, of course. Outwards, like most old bags do. But mentally, I'm still that scared little sapling, the one in the middle of the forest, being beaten by the falling acorns from above me. No matter how old I get, I don't think that will ever change. |
