Thursday, February 10, 2011

Old Prose : my arms are like springs!

I've been going through some old stuff on my computer in the last couple of days, and I decided that I wanted to share some of it here. Granted, I'll never share all of it, as admittedly, some of it is really, REALLY bad. That being said, this one goes with today's theme, which I will post later tonight.


they were two girls, doing nothing but wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles at walmart. not looking for anything in particular, just looking, just spending time together.

they used to run down to each other’s houses in the summer with their bare feet hitting on the pavement. scraped knees were the worst things that could ever happen, and they slept in the same bed all weekend long.

she was a sun kissed child of the 80s and i was her best friend. nothing could come between us. we laughed at things that weren’t funny, and back then we would wave at the cops that drove by instead of hiding our cigarettes carefully under the seat while we got pulled over so as not to get in trouble.

the first time the sweetness of alcohol touched my lips she and i sat cross-legged in her brother’s pick-up truck. we both had shorts and tank tops on, and we passed it back and forth between us like it was some secret that was too private to talk about. we were lanky fourteen year olds then. time changes everything, heals all wounds, rips them back open. we never grew apart.

we lived together for a summer, staying out until five in the morning, and parking in the backyard so my parents wouldn’t see the headlights of her car when we got home. we would take naps at five in the afternoon and we went boy hunting every night.

she was with me when i met him. i wouldn’t have met him if she hadn’t seen two of our other friends that he was with. she nodded slightly as we drove around in the car as i staked my claim on him, who would know that he would cause 6 months of happiness and 8 months of pain. she was the person i called crying so hard that i couldn’t breathe the day he broke my heart. she was the one who kissed my scars and made me feel better.

she and i drove around last summer and barked at people out car windows and flirted with men twice our age. she made fun of me when i pressed the print button on the machine at walmart and ended up printing 80 pages of a wedding gift registry. we hung the papers from the basement door as if they were a curtain. we laughed for days about it.

she was the one who told me i breathe too loud. and she’s the one that talks in her sleep.

it’s hard to be around her now sometimes. she’s found someone to love. someone other than me, and sometimes i miss her more than anything. but most times i know she’ll be there if i ever need her, and i know she knows i love her.

but i still remember her as the skinny brunette hanging from the swing set. the one i cut holes into bushes with for forts. the one who has and will always be my best friend.

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