asklepiades (asklepiades) wrote,
asklepiades
asklepiades

I Want To Be Mysterious

Here's a few things I wrote back at the end of March this year. They weren't supposed to be directly conneccted to each other, but vaguely.


FIRST SEGMENT

Asphalt. Miles of it rolling by in a blur, making me sick. A solid black line crossing the 
 world, connecting Texas to Connecticut. Crossing the world.
Where did they get it all? Was it something you could just dig up, slap down, and call a 
 road? Or was it one of those complicated formulas we had learned in Chemistry? A little bit
 of this, a little bit less of that. Maybe I should have paid more attention in class. Maybe
 I should have paid more attention to construction work. 
Why couldn't they have run out?
"Mary, close that up, It's getting cold in here." Dad. I dropped my arm from the window frame
 and slumped back in my seat. He looked over at me wih a kind of blank look for a moment 
 before pushing the button on his side of the car to roll up my window. That was all. He went
 back to driving, I went back to my thoughts of the road. It was still there, even though I
 couldn't see it from here, slumped so low in my seat. He was right, it had gotten cold. When
 had that happened?
Rubbing my arms, I slid the heat control up a ways and resumed my slumping. With the window
 up it warmed up rather quickly. Between the sudden warmth and the steady vibration of the
 car, my wandering thoughts began to wander and I slipped into a state of semi-sleep.


SECOND SEGMENT Dear Mary, I miss you in much the same way one misses a first pet, dead and gone. I don't understand that you're not coming back. Wake up! Your little arms and legs so still. --luke Dear Mary, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I really thought you liked it--all of it. Everything I did I did for you. Nothing I read said it would kill you. Noone told me I was losing you forever. I'm so sorry. --luke Dear Mary, I held a sevice for you the other day. Buried you behind the garden, behind the purple tulips. Noone else showed up, but I don't want you to feel bad; noone else really knew you the way I did. It was nice. I cried the whole night long. --luke Dear Mary, I just wanted to let you know that I meant EVERY WORD. I LOVE YOU. There is no coming back from that. --luke
THIRD SEGMENT Dear Luke, I got your letters. Don' be sorry; theres nothing to forgive. You were young and I was naïve. There is noone to blame for my death but myself. Just so you know, it wasn't easy. Leaving. I was alive till the very end. Alive as feeling left my extremities, alive as my organs shut down, lungs burning for hours, barely conscious from all the internal bleeding, my body falling apart at the seams, I held on. I was thinking about you, Luke. I loved you once. It's dark here. The always say it'll be bright--that "white light" stuff, but it's dark and cold. But there is no coming back. I made the right decision. Be happy Luke. Forget about me. Death is forever. You deserve the truth. I don't even know if you'll get this, but I wanted you to know. Oh yeah, I think I left one of my toys hidden in your closet; you can have it if you'd like. --Mary
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