The World Will Wait for You

My friend struggles with her belief in God. One night, she prayed in the town square, beneath the big tree, asking for a sign that He exists and is listening. When she looked up, she saw the Big Dipper. As she tells me this, a fervent gleam in her eye, I am skeptical. After all, if you look up at night, you’re bound to see stars.  My desire for death is strong. I want to obliterate myself. I’ve been praying to a God that I swore off years ago, just to get through the day without self-destructing. Do I believe? Who knows. It doesn’t really matter if I do or not — I just need to stay alive. “Philosophical suicide,” Albert Camus would call it. As I’m waiting for my shift to start one day, I ask for a sign that I should keep going. A sign that I should not die. Then I decide to window shop in a store nearby to kill time before work. I push the door open and see a little girl behind the checkout desk. All the lights are off. As I look around, I notice that the store is dedicated to clot...

We met at a party a week after I got out of the hospital, and when you walked into the room, I was abruptly grateful for the fact that I was wearing my choir dress and red lipstick. I immediately was drawn to you and your floaty ways, but when you mentioned being excited to go to another party because a girl was there, I abandoned my attraction.  And then, suddenly, I was getting to know you over winter break, teaching you crafts and cuddling in your bed. Suddenly, you grabbed my hand in the car and kissed the top of my head as I laid next to you and suddenly we were kissing in your room and I was staying over as we watched our favorite shows and went to the discount Chinese grocery store and met for lunch between classes. Suddenly, I fit to you somehow. At that party in February, you told me, “You don’t have to be the loudest person in the room. You’re not ruining anything — you just need to be yourself.” I buried my face in your sweater. That’s when I knew.  And suddenly, it...

I knew God once. I swore I’d remember. He had bronze skin and and black hair and a piercing stare that terrified me. He loved my hazel ojitos bonitos and the fact that I was a foreigner.  So many photos we sent back and forth that are stored only in my memory. Of God’s grandfather’s grave, the children he taught, and the day when he walked for hours without any money, swearing to make his dreams come true. The matchsticks with “Te amo” carved into them that I burned up a long time ago, after I stopped loving.  I see you in my soup. I was there with you on that bus, from the capital city to the mountain town. Maybe I was only dreaming.  I would make you a flower crown, the most beautiful thing anyone has ever told you. More beautiful than the words “I do.” How funny it is when love turns to acceptance. How passion turns to reminiscence.  When God touched her, when he kissed my cheek, whom did he feel he was betraying? Something tells me that you resigned yourself to a...

 

A dog howls, the moon rises. In darkness, the stars pierce forever.  A rooster crows, the sun rises. In daylight, it’s as if the stars never existed. How can I go on after I have lost so many times, over and over? I feel so deeply for people and I don’t think I ever get over anything. Each interaction and overlap touches me to my core. And then it’s over. The pain of each loss builds and builds and each time the pain returns it’s a little worse. Every time I try again I am more afraid of losing. How can I pretend in daylight that things never were? Maybe it’s childish. But I don’t regret giving so much every time. If only it didn’t drain me so.  I should focus on my freedom and my friends and on healing. But the parts that need healing lie dormant when I am alone so I never know how to remedy them. And when they flare up I get so illogical and scared that it’s hard to function.  I wish I could enjoy things while they last. I think I’m getting better at it. That’s all we c...

Linnea asks me, "Would you leave yourself behind?" I shake my head. "No. I'm all I have." "Can you see her?"  "Go to her. Touch her. Hold her." "You're so pretty when you cry. It would be a shame not to see you cry anymore." I could never part with her, try as I might.  She sits on the couch, so small, so brave. I'm still glued there in my mind. I just wanted someone to save me. She stayed for me and fought so hard. I need to stay for her. If I left I'd miss my cat rattling my doorknob to enter my room and purr on my lap. The angel figurine on my desk would light up by itself with no one to cheer up. I'd never see the beautiful eyes of my friends and family, the pasture in the summer, the wide expanses of lake and ocean. No more sneaking into the barn, writing songs, reading in the garden. I’d never love as deeply as I know I am capable of. I used to think that a world so difficult wasn't meant for me. But maybe ...

As I sat down at dinner, you told me that you would serve me my portion because it's no secret that I have been hunting after food like a dog lately. But don't worry, everyone knows it's because of my medication. You're infuriated that we are having this conversation right now. I am overreacting. No, you couldn't have said it in a nicer way, because any way you could say it would be misconstrued as judgmental by me. Oh, you're such a horrible father for saying such a thing. I need to absolve myself of my insecurity and you're not going to do that for me. Am I some glutton swelling up like a beached whale while everyone pretends otherwise? Do you think I am some sort of moron? That I haven't been trying to stop snacking and remedy it myself? "Fine, then, have it your way. I'll just buy two pounds of pasta and watch silently for the next eight months as you consume 500 extra calories every meal and balloon up." There will be no extra portion...