When the weather was hotter, a shift in power scattered the board’s pieces out of respective position. The summer was not going as planned, oh no, it was poorly constructed chaos.
We witnessed whimsical insecurity marry and procreate with greedy chemical compounds, forcing her collapse as our words fell short. There was incessant worry, countless deep breaths and a horribly mishandled collective case of leading by example.
We tried to be forward without being direct. I tried to speak up but did not know my place. She and she and she and she wept for our friend, unsure of whom failed whom first.
How can you measure restraint when the personal is political? I was a human time bomb and she exploded in my place. A million little shards of her former self became a billion pieces of grandiose reality, reconstructed independently in the shells of smiling people left in her space and home.
The person is also a she. Woman. Stronger than the man, yet weakened by his powdery fingertips. A forced aperture with little room for light. People called her “Crazy Katie” because she embodies crazy indeed, but can also exist in the following ways: inspired, bi-lingual, fantastic, huge-hearted and loyal. Her taste in music was shitty but I was never left waiting for a hug.
We were the ones to help her leave that room with the high ceilings for somewhere safer, helping abandon the space that festered the rashes of abuse. Parked stagnant in the car watching beautiful Amanda cry, I said things like “for the best,” knowing no better than to slather the situation with optimism and make cautious note of the route/roots of destruction.
When the weather grew colder, we were taught lessons about internalized frustration with combustible force and how to exist without her.
I sought refuge from the unique hell I had created back in the heat and hid from my problems atop her bare mattress in the empty white room, assuming she would not mind an additional body because of our mutual love for redheaded men. Lack of daylight mirrored her absence and made me feel hollow as he and I quietly slept for two days and barely drank a sip of water. When we emerged to see the world’s light, we were blinded by a foot of unforeseen snowfall and he whipped out his dick and started pissing as we walked past the stop sign. Yellow on white, another jarring contrast to exhaust me.
Laughter’s reemergence shook dust from my lungs and made me cough flem up on the street. The sound had been bitchingly absent and dying to make a comeback, tired of taking the backseat to hiccuping sobs. It must’ve experienced some stage fright, a fear of breaking back into the world it had left alone for whatever reason.
Laughter had been gone just like a lot of things that had been coming and going, and the cold world seemed dizzy from shifting the sadness from side to side. We had tried our best and settled down with wasting hours and anticipating the return of a vehement force to brush the snow from our boots, simply stuck waiting for time to fix her.