Friday, October 30, 2015

Favored Factorials

Dearest Kate, 

It was a Tuesday night around nine or nine thirty, the glow of my bedroom lamp illuminated a crouched shadow against the curve of the attic walls. Your voice was tucked between my head and shoulder as I used my hands to gently pull at the edges of a foul smelling bandage I had forgotten to change on my back ankle. The bandage had grown into the cut as it had healed, forcing me to reopen the wound. Every time I would scream into the phone, you would calmly respond with an insight on a few of our most controversial topics, challenging my thoughts and opinions. The way nobody else could. Your efforts distracted my mind from the situation at hand, loosening the rippling pain.
Sometimes, when I step out of the shower, I run the pads of my fingers over the indent of the scar, and I think of you. 

I think of you lazily spread out beneath the sky, like you never had a care in the world. I think of you challenging every thought I had, questioning every intention behind my actions.
I was glass to you, a walk in the park, a simple math equation, but I must have been one of your favored factorials, because you were just as intrigued as I was.
i fell in love with our friendship, and you fell in love with me. I could never love you like that, and you? you could never let go of your pride. We did let go of us though, didn't we.

Except, we didn't. At least, I didn't.
My mind questions information now. I search for truth in every opinion, every fact, rather than allowing it to slip down my throat. And sometimes, I find myself sitting beneath the shade of a tree, my legs lazily spread out beneath me as I chew on a sandwich. And you know, if a friend were to call while re-opening a wound, I think I would know exactly what to say.

I even watch action movies.
And the worst part of it is,
I kind of like them.

It's your turn now, Kate. Who has made you see the world differently, yourself differently?



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