To forget

Before she left, she cried for two days. Because she knew how badly it would hurt. And because she was terrified that one day it would stop hurting.

It was like that with love, too. She always thought that love should be loud. And she was afraid of the day when she would change her mind.

Even if everything was better that way. Even if it turned out that she was wrong all along to be afraid of it. She was afraid...to stop being afraid...of growing up.

Flatlining

I followed an ambulance through the rain for three hours. Over a bridge, then back, around in a huge circle. It never stopped. It passed an accident, it passed a hospital. It never stopped, for three hours. And when it finally pulled to a quiet surrender in front of a small house, the driver sat for twenty minutes. I started to worry, got out of my car and walked toward the ambulance. Put my hand on the side, waited. He was just sitting there. No music, no phone, he was just sitting with his hands on the wheel. Finally he got out. He walked right past me without even looking up. And finally I realized. His hunched shoulders, his balled fists, his tired eyes explained the three hour ride. Why he didn't stop to save someone.

He was driving to save someone.

Space

My words aren't the problem. They're true.

The problem is the space between my mind, my words, and you.

Whole worlds are lost in those spaces.