It was your mind. The way you were wired. That was the only thing all the theories had in common. You were manic. You were depressive. You were schizophrenic. You were on drugs. You were on the wrong medication. You needed medication. You heard voices. You'd lost the will to speak. Anxiety. Disorder. Nobody knew for sure, at least nobody who was saying anything. After you left, all the remained were guesses. I would go over everything. Every detail. Every panic. Every sigh. But they never added up to anything but you. I only saw the person. I couldn't see the wiring. I couldn't fix the wiring.
I tried I tried I
I knew I should have call Jack, should have told him...but I didn't. Not yet. I was afraid of him thinking that I was crazy, too. I wasn't sure what he'd do if he saw me drowning. I wasn't sure he'd save me unless he was saving himself. what he'd say.
David LevithanDo they sleep? I want to know...am I the only one who doesn't sleep?
David LevithanThey said you weren't coming back.
I didn't believe them.
I wanted to hear it from you.
Even now, you refused to be pixelated, forgotten, silenced, erased. Not that I wanted to erase you. The opposite. I wanted the opposite.
David LevithanBack to the present.
I found you in my locker the next morning.
Not you.
A photograph.
But for a moment, it felt like finding a body,
It felt like finding
what you I needed
to be
found.
The way you
said "I love you"
said "I'll never sleep with you"
said "I will always"
kept a list of all your favorite moments in a composition book and would underline the ones involving me with blue ink
I was treating the past as if it could be mined for clues, for reasons.
But the past resists that.
It holds too much evidence of too many things.
Lets always love each other, and never be in love with each other."
And I agreed.
The train comes. If you stay on the tracks, you die. If you jump off the bridge, you die,
There's always a train coming eventually.
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