I’m listening to musicĀ I haven’t listened to in about a year because it reminds me of someone I haven’t seen since, or spoken to really, and when I last saw her, we listened to these songs over and over driving down the highway and having adventures and magical conversations and then shutting up and being silent when the world required it. I’ve been afraid to listen to them. Last night, I dreamed she was meeting me for vacation, but she never showed. And I went on with my day like I would, thinking she’d gotten lost or bailed, but not entirely upset about it. That night, I heard a noise in my hotel room, opened my closet and found her there curled into herself. She said she had been there all day, but something scared her and she couldn’t come out. Shit, I said, what if I was singing or talking to myself or masturbating and you heard me?! What the hell?! She apologized which was something she never did that well in life and the rest of the dream was lost. I felt alone despite her creeping there. Not lonely, but alone which are two different things. I was content alone. In a way she is always hiding somewhere, in some corner of sky, a song and I’ll see her face and file it away without much feeling. Today, I’m taking these songs back. I’m sharing them with the baby, singing my heart out to the baby, taking back the things I loved: the moon, cobblestone clouds, the tortilla soup I made once when she needed help because I loved these things first and why should I give them away to someone who’s not even here?

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