Lessons Learned

I’ve stayed away from the windows, when it’s dark and the lights are on. I’ve never let my lighter be lit for too long. I’ve never ordered the Chinese to come right to the house. I’ve never stayed in the same lane for more than three minutes, or taken the same way home from the same place twice. I don’t cry anymore, and I don’t buy stupid shit, and I don’t let idiots direct me. I don’t know what else it is you want from me. I don’t let anyone follow me. I don’t give out my number. I don’t give out my address. I don’t have anyone, and I have been by myself in this stupid place for what feels like years now, falling out of the sky, falling back through the center of the universe until I think I must be drowning in time.

I walk in your footsteps, because they’re the clearest path out of here. I reach out for your hand because I think we’re both just so goddamned tired of being alone.

I thought I found you, once. I thought it would last.

Maybe that’s the last lesson you’re trying to teach.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Fiction, Flash, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.