She said it like she didn’t need to be here. Said it like she didn’t want to be here. Said it like she could just leave. The idea of leaving. The idea of having been wrong about coming was so very far off in my mind that at the moment it felt like very little more than madness.
I can see how time like this would pass so quick. I can see the day clearing and the week picking up in speed. The conversation growing short. The stories growing terse. The years piling up like books in the corner that I swear I have read, swear I have, swear and swear and swear. They talk of art forms like ex boyfriends and authors like styles that faded four years ago. I don’t know what’s being said half the time and no one cares how pretty I am.
It’s a very different world than the world I have come from.
I wonder if before now I ever learned anything at all. I can’t hold onto the pieces, they just transform in my mind and manipulate themselves in grandiose sweeping notions.
Who? said who? Said what?