And The Satellite :: [Charlotte + Memory]
Feb 3, 2015 23:55:32 GMT -5
Post by L△LIA on Feb 3, 2015 23:55:32 GMT -5
Dear Friend,
I fought with my mother. It wasn't the yelling kind, but the I love you so much it makes me hate myself kind. It's not as if I said it out loud like that, but there's a special kind of crying that gives it away — mostly involving self-suffocating while trying to insist that I'm growing up and how I'm totally capable of breathing without supervision.
Just ignore me as I poetically contradict myself, obviously.
The next hour was spent trying to reassure her that it's not her, it's me, and I know she loves me more than anything, but... sometimes it's hard to be loved that much. I worry about her worrying about me. I just wanted to tell her that I'm okay and I want her to know this because I want her to be okay too. Except that's not something I can make her understand, so I didn't say it like that. I said it all wrong, so she left the room sadder than before and I just left.
Out the window and into the dark, I went down the fire escape like Niko does when he's got a secret date with a girl he's trying to convince into believing he's a rebel. Because going outside? I guess it's some kind of rebellion. I'm not supposed to do much of anything on my own, let alone running away, even if it's only for a few hours. Somehow I just started thinking of meeting Casp and that night in the hospital when we went looking for the stars. I wanted to feel that way again. All of those ways, really, because it wasn't just one thing. It was everything, just like when I try to have these conversations with my mother and it starts so small before ending too big.
The stars were right where I'd left them. Too far, but waiting for me. I could still feel them buried in my arms and stretching into the crook of Casp's elbow, invisible constellations sprawling into the unknown dark. It's hard to feel connected to things you can't touch and people forget that about me. It's the wrong kind of forgetting. I just want everyone to forget the hard things about me now and then, so I can breathe without getting crushed by the lack of things. If I have to fight with something like that then it's better when it's the dark and the stars.
Laying on the ground in the park, underneath the jungle gym I'm not supposed to climb around on any more than the fire escape, it became a better kind of poetry. "Just come sit down right here next to me. It's alright. I swear I don't I bite," I promised the stars as I held my hands out to trace all the constellations — the sky and my arms and Casp and my mother and rebellion and tonight. There was nothing there and everything there. I was breathing just fine and even though the stars wouldn't come down for me, someone else did.
Love always,
Charlie
Charlie