Nick was right.

im pushing against this current that is so damn heavy. because my chest sinks and my heart has now made itself known in my throat, everyday it gets harder to breathe. why is i that ones heart grows heavy at the sign of heartbreak, be it yours or theirs? why is it that you get dizzy and begin to see spots when your heartbreak is within the distance of shouting? why is it that we reminisce to no end when we break? and oh how fragile we all are. isn't it funny how the majority of us end up forgetting the plans we make when we're children? the ones that we turn our backs on... as if they are some disgusting childhood fantasy that each and every one of us is ashamed to admit to. i know that i've gone through all of these torments and although i am truly ashamed to admit it, i know that i have tormented others with these. i ask Nick why it is that we are all borne ceaselessly into the past. Questions, Comments, Concerns. they all find a way to my cerebellum and yet i continue to make the same stupid mistakes.

my footsteps travel south without my knowledge. they make their way to southern France where the two of us ventured without ever leaving the united states. where shadows crashed, and exploded into a thousand shades of uncertainty. they became what we really wanted to be. what i want to be. but i too hold onto passed years. i clutch at these people, places, things...i grip these nouns in my arms and refuse to let them go. they're locked up in boxes below my mattress... in memories that i will never share... in scars that i won't ever explain. they show themselves to the world in rain drops.lovenotes.syllables.freeways.keys.ivory.coincidence... didn't i notice that you both kept your money in the same box?

and there it was. staring me in the face. it was if anything, overly stocked. i couldn't remember its name for the life of me and then all of a sudden, there it was. two copies serving as eyes looking straight at me. straight through me. i picked it up and flipped recklessly through my the pages, my hands shaking. i made a fruitless attempt to find those digital words. to what? live some piece of my past again? to be persuaded to buy it so i could let it sit in front of me on my desk and stare at me like it did in the bookstore? no... i let it go. i let it go like i could never let this go. a post rummaged book now resides on that bookshelf somewhere in our southern France. as i puttered through the rows and aisles of white pages stained with black ink, i found it miraculous that they were once free. free of attachments and free of the binding that keeps them involved with other pages. but at one point or another they found themselves to be printed with ink. splats and splotches that in some strange way form words. words that give meaning to our lives and help us to exist and coexist. words that we clench in fist. those words that helped us learn those words. and so, the utmost obviousness reveals itself in the fact that without having something, we would never know it. without my words, you would never know that my nights blend together. aside from a night or two ago when i drove. i drove like i had never done so before. i drove North this time. and of course what was in my way but symbolism. it jumped out at me while i changed lanes and soon enough... i found myself at her front door. i didn't have the heart. i could have knocked. i could have asked. i went home.

Nick was right.