issue 38 - i don't know what it all means, but it makes me want to believe things will be okay again

welcome back to FRESH, it’s time for some more feelings.

i don't know what it all means, but it makes me want to believe things will be okay again

it’s late at night, and we’re all loitering outside a Brooklyn club after a show. your Uber arrives, and you say your farewells to everyone. you get to me, and shout a quick “love you!” before you leave. it catches me completely off guard. it’s the first time in forever that a friend has said that to me.

the bus is taking us down to DC, and we’re sitting next to each other. we are talking about everything and nothing. you open up about your sister for the first time. i feel completely comfortable for the next five hours.

we’re walking up the subway exit stairs at night. we need to part ways to go home in a moment. there is a pause, then the quickest peck on my cheek, and you turn to go. i blush and stare at your silhouette as you walk away.

the music is loud around us, and we sit down on the grass. you’re putting a bracelet onto my wrist. i keep it close me for a long time.

we’re by the sink in my kitchen. you’re intertwining fairy lights into my hair, into yours. they make you look like a shining angel. there is one earbud in my ear, and one in yours. i wish i could take a picture of this moment, and keep it forever.

i buy a lock for us from the bodega around the corner. we write our names on it in Sharpie, chain it to the park fence and scramble the code. i take the long way home just to walk past it.

you sneak me into your house. we’re squished into the guest bathroom next to the back door. the shower is tiny, but it’s just right.

the airport is calling me home. you kiss me and tell me you’ll wait for me. we don’t see each other for a year.

i buy a necklace with your favorite number on it. i put it on so you can stay close to my heart. i wear it so much it rusts and turns brown.

you’ve got your own car now, and you’re picking me up from the arrivals curb. i steal a granola bar from the box you bought for me, and we take the highway back into the city.

we’re parked outside my house at midnight, and i’m supposed to get out. two hours later, i’m still in your lap in the driver’s seat with your lips on mine. the police car behind honks at us, we’re blocking the whole street. we carefully drive a loop around the block with me on you until they go away.

i’m in my Sunday best blue dress. we’ve just come back from church, and we’re all playing badminton in the garden. i meet your aunt, and she says “welcome to the family”. it’s the first time anyone has said that to me.

we’re sitting cross-legged inside our tent. you tell me how you’ve been feeling. the tears are running down my face. your friend tries to come in, and i tell him to leave us alone.

i’m in your passenger seat again. i ask you if we can go back to being just friends. you say yes. i take my backpack upstairs and cry the whole night.

i lose my Polaroid camera in Los Angeles. it feels like losing you all over again. my eyes are so blurry i can’t see. my friend holds me upright until we make it to Yoshinoya.

we’re in the Uber backseat going home. my thigh is touching yours, and you pull away. it breaks my heart just a little bit more.

you follow me down the steps to the bottom of the garden. the birds are chirping around us, and you’re telling me things i don’t want to hear.

we’re listening to the new Fred Again album for the first time. i’m in the passenger seat trying not to sob out loud. i’m wondering how he wrote an album narrating my life. our friend is driving, and asks me if i’m okay. i nod. you’re blissfully unaware in the back seat glued to your phone.

my Uber is taking me down the same highway into the city. you’re not there this time. the sun is shining outside, but it feels wrong.

you’ve finally agreed to meet me today. i look out the window, spot your car coming down the street, and run downstairs. i’m walking behind you, and taking in your figure in the sunlight. i smile, because i’m just happy you exist at the same time as me.

we’re heading down the stairs to your car. i’m watching you walk out the front door, and i want to tell you to come back so badly it hurts. i let you leave. i’m on the phone later that night confessing to you through tears.

i’m on the ferry home to you. we sit down on the grass and watch the sea. there is so much space in between us.

my ferry leaves in five minutes. i’m still pressing you against the side of your car.

we’re in California, humming a song together while we walk down the street with Starbucks in hand. it feels like the old days.

your flight is in two hours. i can feel you running away from me. there’s no point in talking on the couch anymore. you pack up as fast as you can, and forget your shorts behind in the dryer.

i’m watching you walk in towards our restaurant booth. you sit down and order your usual. you’re wearing the bracelet i made for you years ago. the space between us doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

they close down the park where we put our lock. it feels poetic somehow.

i’m sitting at my breakfast table typing this out. i don't know what it all means, but it makes me want to believe things will be okay again.

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love,

wing

alright, over to you now - reply to this email with your thoughts! if you enjoy a little prompting:

• what makes you believe things will be okay again?

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