driving through town the air smells different. the colors are brighter. emerald green has erupted all over my street under a blanket of mist and fog. the music through my car stereo sends me back to what seems centuries ago.
on my 17th birthday, my friend hosted a party for me at her house. you brought me a bottle of malibu coconut rum and broke it on its journey form your hands to mine. that night, we ended up in a hot tub, and slept in your car as it stood in the driveway. i was a circus freak, bending in ways i did not know possible just so i could fit into a small spoon. your mom and sister woke up early and i tried to hide from them. your belt buckle was leaving a bruise on my back. awkwardly, you removed the belt. “that’s all im doing. is that okay with you.” that was the beginning. that is what deathcab does to me. i’ve always hated my memory.
i’m not sure when we turned each other into monsters. but the point is that we did. and sometimes i wonder if i should have listened. and most of the time i wish that i did. but everything happens for a reason. and of that i am sure.
i can’t say i hate you for it anymore. right now i just love me. i am a woman of many strengths. i have grown new bones.
