There is no point here, just a few words.

Turn your screen on. Press play.

Memories imprint on human existence; our skin is malleable.

Depressions, crests, and even plains

Stretching across the span of your lifetime.

There are broken fragments rearing their jagged edges around the part of you

You thought you could have kept safest.

Turn your screen on. Press play.

The sun was sinking fast.

Whatever you thought you had started, ended.

Buried in the waves of your self destructive tendencies.

You watched him lower his head and you watched his blistered rough hands massage his temples as if the constant rubbing motion could make this reality hurt less.

But it didn’t.

You watched him stare at the sand beneath your feet and you watched him breathe in and out and you traced his profile with your eyes wondering what would happened next.

The waves rolled in and receded, expanding and detracting like your lungs. You always thought there was something so suffocating about the ocean. If you stand at the edge you thought it would be admiss for someone to not feel it’s power. How easily a person could be swept into the waves, dragged down, held tight in the ocean’s embrace. You never thought ocean air smelled clean either. It smelled salty, dirty, it was heavy in your nose and weighed your body down.

You wished you had been somewhere else.

Turn your screen on. Press Play.

This time you’re standing in front of a house that Google Maps directed you to. A two story house identical to the ones around it. You waited at the edge of the driveway. You wondered what people would say if they saw you standing there. Just waiting. The garage light flickered on. You watch the top of a man’s head walk from one end to the other, out a side door, and the gate at the side of the house swung open.

Turn your screen on. Press Play.

You’re home now and you call her.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” she yelled.

“Jesus fuck, don’t yell at me! I slept with him like I said I would.”

“Was it any good?” she asked.

You paused for a moment.

Was it any good?

His hands were ice cold. They chilled your insides and made you feel sick. He wanted too much too quickly. Frantic. Aggressive. He pushed your legs apart diving into your insides before you were ready. His hands were ice cold.

He moved inside of you as if this was his first showuntrainedinattentivegreedy you didn’t speak to him he didn’t speak to you.

“It wasn’t worth my time,” you say.

“Fuck, that sucks. You know if he ever finds out he won’t speak to you again.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Turn your screen on. Press play.

The sun is gone. The sky is shades of iridescent blue.

He gets up from the log you were sitting on, walking away from you.

This is it.

You take a deep breath.

This is the ending you wanted.

You were so close. So close to being happy and it scared you. You were so close to having love in your life from a man you adored, and it scared you. You never thought of yourself as a destination for someone to love. You spent three years falling in and out of strangers bed sheets. Always gone before it got too serious. And this time you were caught off guard and someone called it love, and that scared you.

So you walked north to the man with the ice cold hands. You let him inside you and you chose not to be loved

you chose not to be loved

you chose not to be loved.

You watched him walk away from you because you know he could not touch you again not with your skin feeling so ice cold.

You chose not to be loved.

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