Hello my friends! This is a new story. I'm not sure where I'm going with it, I only have a general idea. Buuut I hope you like it all the same.
Let me know what you think. =)
It is completely fascinating to experience the way memory works. Shapes, sounds, smells, colors, noises, whispers, screams, sign, faces. They can all bring you back to a certain moment. A certain memory that aches deep within your soul where you've been trying to hide it for so long. You tricked yourself into thinking that you threw that memory into the trash compactor. Ground up and never to be seen, heard, or experienced ever again. And then you see the sign. You small the smell. You hear the song. And you are instantly transported into the past. So much so that you swear to God in heaven that you're reliving it all over again. Only this time everything, all your senses are heightened. Because when it actually happened, you thought nothing of it.
You can't escape.
That simple fact scares the shit out of your pretty little smirk. Your cute little face. You know you will never escape, never forget. Sometimes you think this is good. Like when you smile at the memory, thinking Oh man, remember that? And sometimes you think this is horrible and so painful your chest physically tightens. Your eyes burn for unknown reasons because you're not supposed to cry. Tears? No. You don't do tears.
But the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing about memory is that it is yours, and yours alone. You hear that one song, and only you know the meaning behind it. Whoever you're with, family, a friend, a co-worker, they have no idea. They just think it's a nice song. But to you, it is so much more than a nice song.
Some people have been trying to find out what the worst feeling in the world is. Many think it's unhappiness. A lot think it's boredom. Some people think it's guilt. They're all wrong.
Despair is the single most painful thing a human being can feel. It consumes you. Despair is the complete loss or absence of hope. Without hope, you are nothing.
I am sitting outside the train station sipping my Gatorade. It's the orange kind, the best kind. And listen to my next sentence carefully because it is a lie. There is no vodka in my Gatorade.
Lately, the only thing allowing me to get through my day is that burning sensation down my throat and into the pit of my stomach. Of course, all it does is numb me even further.
So I sit on a bench, sipping my caustic fluid, a cigarette dangling from my chapped lips. I need Chap Stick, I should write that down. My white lighter is digging painfully into my hip from it's place in my pocket. It's one of those small ones. White lighters have the notorious reputation of being bad luck. You either lose it, get it stolen, or it explodes on you. Even though I've lost about five of these over the years, I still don't believe in the myth.
My hand reaches into my back pocket every minute, checking to see if I still have my train ticket. I have that paranoia. That the second I get onto the train my ticket will somehow fall out of my pocket. And I'll be stranded.
No one wants to be stranded.
And then I hear the little bell ding, signaling the train coming down the tracks. My head snaps to the area from where the noise comes from. And I hear it. That sound that punches my brain back into a memory.
"I wish I could come with you." I told her sincerely as we waited on a bench in front of the tracks. It was chilly out. Only dressed in a light sweater and jeans, I started to shiver a bit. I wish I had a scarf.
"Me too." She said to me, smiling brilliantly my way as she said it. "But, you can't miss any more summer school, and I'll be back soon."
"You better." I mumbled.
"Come on, aren't you a little happy for me?" she asked my sweetly, nudging my shoulder. The momentary warmth of her body on mine made me light-headed.
"Of course I am Spencer. I know how much your nerdy ass wanted to get into that writing program." I laughed out, teasing her.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, although I knew she wasn't mad. She never was. "I told you to apply for the music one. Then we would both be going."
I shrugged, making it out to not be a big deal. But it was. I was afraid of rejection. I didn't want to apply and then be shot down. I don't think anyone wants that. "I wouldn't have gotten in."
She snorted loudly. "Yeah, right Ashley. What a liar."
I laughed lightly and turned my head to look at her. Even though it was an overcast day, you were still able to see the beauty in the girl next to me. The wind blew her blonde hair around as she constantly swiped it from her face. With her head leaned back, her eyelashes thick with black mascara that made her blue eyes pop, she looked beautiful.
The dinging of the train bell brought me out of my daze. The lights from the train could be seen as small globes coming towards us in the tracks. She stood. I stood.
Spencer smiled at me and wrapped her arms around me. She was only leaving for a few weeks, but I had a bad feeling. My stomach grumbled nervously and my usually steady hands were shaking. They pulled her waist closer to me and I whispered in her hear. "Call me when you get there." It was a demand. Not a question.
I wanted to say more. There was something in the back of my throat that I wanted to let out. I felt like this would make a good time to say it, even though I wasn't sure what it was. My brow furrowed as she let go and I missed it. I didn't understand.
My best friend was leaving for the few weeks in the summer vacation. That was no big deal. So why, if it was no big deal, did I feel this uneasiness? Those thoughts in the back of my throat dripped down and pounded painfully in my chest.
"I'll miss you Ash." She smiled at me as she walked towards the train.
If she had just given me three more minutes, I would have figured out what those words were that I felt like I needed to say.
Spencer stood still for a couple of seconds, almost like she was waiting for me to say something. I could feel it coming. Just another minute, that's all I needed.
But she smiled at me, turned around, and got on the train. I watched it start slowly down the tracks, gaining momentum after every second. The train was still in my sight when my chest constricted painfully. Not like when you see something sad. It was more similar to when you get a football thrown at you and it knocks the wind out of you.
If she had just waited one more minute. Just one small minute, I would have been able to recognize the words in the back of my throat.
If I had just stalled her for one more minute, I would have been able to tell her that I loved her.