Sometimes writing makes me feel better.

Losing someone you love is like losing your keys, except knowing that you’re never going to be able to find them. No matter how many times you look in the computer room, or by the fridge, or on that shelf with the canned green beans that your mom says aren’t good for you because the nutritional value gets sucked out during the canning process. And you don’t even like green beans. They made you cry as a kid, but your dad made you eat them anyways. Sometimes you’d have to eat them in your room and you couldn’t come out until you stopped crying. Fish made you cry too. And hamburger helper. Sometimes carrots, but usually not carrots.

Where are your keys? You can’t leave without your keys. You’re stuck in your house. You can’t move on. Unless you leave the door unlocked. Is that what you have to do? Do you just close the door, leave a light on, and walk to the place where people are? People who don’t know how lucky they are to have their keychain with the glitter on it for some reason. Why is there always glitter on things you don’t want to look at?

You think about your keys all the time. You hope nobody steals your TV or the toolbox that he gave you. Maybe they’re in the computer room, or by the fridge, did I check on that shelf with the green beans yet? I can’t remember. I’m gonna be late. I feel crazy. They should be here. They were just here. They were here. They’re supposed to be here. 

Mar 2, 2011 | Posted by in Posts | 0 comments

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