I Don’t Remember Writing This…

Crazy thing about being an English major in college-I’m always finding random short stories and poems that I don’t remember writing. Where normal college kids leave parties and go home to drunk-binge on pizza and Netflix, drunk English majors go home to blast Mozart at 3 AM and sob over Shakespeare sonnets. Figures.

I am slowly coming to the realization that we’re not going to reunite during this lifetime. The thought is agonizing, She is currently wiping her tears with that ragged Daffy Duck stuffed animal, at the thought- that’s how upset she is. We are. Whatever, you get the point. I wish it could be easy again, like it was in Tangiers. Remember Tangiers? Or Constantinople, now that was on point, I’ll say. Even that summer down in Newport, remember that one, it was the hottest summer on record…we spotted each other on the dock, and it was all downhill from there! But oh, what way to go, I don’t regret it for a minute. But here we are, in the most fast-tracked mentality of a place we’ve ever shared residence, and we can’t find each other…go figure. I keep trying to keep Her on track, I trust you’re doing likewise on your end, but it’s only a matter of time before that soppy Daffy Duck dries up into a salt mine of forgetfulness. Only a matter of time, you and I can’t deny the facts at hand. I implore you, give me a sign that you can hear me…should we continue to check in this poker game with Fate-or say screw it, and go all in on our high-card Ace and wait for the river to roll in?

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