Time

I don’t have a typewriter, so this is the best I can do. I got your letter, it came three days late. By the time I read your words you were too far away for me to respond. I understand why you did it. Honestly. While everyone was expressing their shock and disbelief I just hoped you were happy. In the end. There was too much unhappiness throughout. There was no real trauma. No real reason why you should be this way. Other than the fact that you simply were. If I think about it too long I shake. You would think this would wear off. Time doesn’t fix things. People who say it does, are not acquainted with her mocking laugh and pitiful glare. “This writer guy, he says that it’s easy. You just sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. But what if you’re running out of veins?” (I Wrote This For You.) What if a laptop is as close as you can get to a typewriter? What if the veins you do have left are collapsing at an alarming rate, and are covered in cuts, cuts that make a trail to my way of escaping Time and her careless ways. One second you think she is your friend. She lures you into her spell. She distracts you with new people, new songs, new shoes. She fills your life with excitement and when she decides you’ve had too much takes something more precious than the future. She steals your memories, leaving only the faintest trace of them. Something to make sure you know you’re missing the best parts. You can tell when she is coming. If you start to focus too much on the future, on what you’re doing tomorrow, or who you could meet Friday night, you know she is coming. She is preparing to steal from you. While you are busy planning your future Time is taking inventory of your favourite memories. While you are getting so caught up with your future you don’t even realize your past slowly slipping away. Then, one day something will happen. It will seem so familiar. It could happen while driving down the road. A song will come on the radio. You’ll remember the tune, but the words just aren’t there. It will spark something. Deep in the back of your mind. Pieces of your memories will come back to you. But the faces, the sound of the voices, and feel of their touch, will be a blur. Nothing will seem real. It is as if you are remembering a story someone told you, a story they only heard about second hand. You will try, try as hard as you can. But it won’t make any difference. You will only feel a sense of longing. A feeling of despair and loneliness. It is only then, that you will realize you have forgotten. There are ways to trick the allusive Time. When you feel yourself focusing too much on the future, when you are feeling too hopeful, and too eager, that is when you know. You must ignore the optimistic feelings. Think back to your happiest memories of the past, the most painful ones to recall now. Latch on to every available memory you have. Get lost in them. Glory in them. Remember a time when you were happy. Why you were happy. And what has changed to steal your happiness. If you are trying enough Time will move on. She knows a lost cause when she sees one. She will leave you alone in your memories. You will feel the hope you had for the future slip away while you lose yourself in the past. You will feel her leaving you, and as she separates herself from you and moves farther and farther away you will be able to hear her laugh. It is a high pitched, desperate sounding laugh. Only then, when your chest feels hollow and your breath comes in shallow, quick gasps, will you be able to tell that her laugh, the laugh you find so hurtful and mocking, is not a laugh at all. She is weeping. Weeping for your loss of a future. And for her failure. For all Time was trying to do was help you. Help you move on and learn to be happy again.
Oct.-13-10