May 15th, 2005

(no subject)

Today I will remember sticking our heads out of the neighboring windows of your third floor apartment on Pearl Street. It was rainy today. It was gray and wet but it was a good day for rain. We poked our heads out the window after a quick scraping of the pipe I gave you a few years ago when yours had broken. I rolled a small ball of resin and took a couple of hits before lighting my cigarette and joining you on the other side of the brick wall, where the rain sprinkled our bare skin.

It was marvelous. We were both very unhappy with life this morning, even after our routine breakfast at the diner where all the employees know us on a first name basis and how we like our eggs done. It wasn't that you felt empty, it was just that you felt so full... that you just wanted to go to sleep forever. I had woken up that morning and confronted myself on my ninety MPH path to alcoholism, and you had woken up with a hungry stomach and a burning desire to be dead. So instead of leaving each other with gracious goodbyes, we hung our heads from the window in the rain and observed the public outside the Laundromat and the new Dunkin Donuts across the street. We sat at your white marble-tiled kitchen table with the wooden lining, and its sheen made the dirty apartment appear more tidy and classy than it really was. You sat at your side of the table with the following items sorted out in front of you:

  • A camera.
  • An exacto knife.
  • A large coffee, black with four sugars.
  • A pack of cigarettes.
  • A bag of film.
  • A pile of CDs.
  • And a Virgin Mary of Guadalupe candle.

    And I sat opposite from you with my own entourage of items:
  • Two pink notecards.
  • A phone.
  • A lighter.
  • A pipe.
  • 2 books of my work.
  • 2 packs of cigarettes.
  • And a black pen.

  • I was trying to figure out how to tell you what you meant to me. But the fear I was feeling was too remarkably strong to put anything into words. Since getting you back I realized that I had officially gained something to leave behind when I left Burlington. Since having you in my life again, I've realized that my departure is no longer so easy, and that I'll have to find some way to give you a goodbye that does our friendship justice. Thinking about that is too scary for my frail mind to imagine.

    I can't find another one of you. You are not mass-produced like 99% of the other girls out there. You are a true gem, and there is so little that I can say that gets your importance across properly. I don't know how I stumbled upon you; what I did that was so grand in life that I actually deserved to have you, but you're worth millions to me. I don't know how I'm going to leave you, or how I'm going to manage in a place where you're not up the street every time I want coffee or cigarettes or you. I don't know what I'm going to do when I meet a girl who I think can slightly live up to my expectations of a best friend, only to shatter the possibilities with comparisons to you. Nobody will ever be you to me, Audra. You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.