I made this piece in 2006, which is one million years ago now. I dusted it off for a Creative Writing project a few years ago and it’s been bouncing around ever since. In the project I made fun of my description of the leaves falling passively. This, like all the stuff I’ve insisted on keeping, seems to show me who I am. Here I am at twenty two reflecting on twelve. The strange path of remembrance is highlighted by the weird tendrils, which like a mood, descend on the story.
This story always kind of grossed me out because the use of the word “soften.”
I would write this story differently now but I would definitely keep soften.
Our narrative identities are always in flux, we shift the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. We are the protagonists, antagonists, martyrs and maniacs of our stories and we change the facts to fit these different identities. In this story I say that I got over him when I was fifteen but I didn’t. I thought about our connection for years and years. CLEARLY by my immortalizing it twice over.
I found Justin on facebook, and he seems like a totally good dude. I’m a grown up, now, and I seem like a totally good dude.