Another hollow, trite ramble.
Sometimes I wonder why we celebrate death.
For an hour or two, when we die, we are the star of the show. Pay attention to me, our corpses threaten. Long-forgotten relatives release a cache of emotions onto the floor of the viewing room and please the once-active pile of deteriorating dermis and makeup. If the blood remained in their veins they would squeeze out a smile.
As I sobbed today I suddenly thought about Benjamin. We met online. For spring break, I decided to visit him. I traveled two full days on a Greyhound bus. I thought I loved him. I was held at the border because they thought that he didn't know I was coming to visit and they had to wait for him to call them back to assure them that I was really supposed to come. Bus members were wary of my situation, since I was travelling alone to a large, scary place that I had never been to meet someone I'd never met before. When I arrived at the bus station, I was supposed to wait for him to come and pick me up (his grandmother died before I left, so he had to go to her funeral two hours away). I stepped off of the bus and claimed my bags. I was so excited to finally be in Calgary. I walked into the bus station and was looking for a seat. I felt a hand on my back and I whipped around, and there he stood. Him. The boy I had been waiting to be with for months. He wore a fancy crimson shirt and black pants. You can imagine my surprise to see him standing in front of me, as I expected him an hour or two later. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I dropped my things and hugged him an extended hug. I remember one particular moment. I was sitting on his couch, and he had his head in my lap. I was talking to his mother and scratching his head. And when we first arrived at his house, he tried to kiss me. I told him to wait until I showered, as I had been on a bus for two days. He made fresh pasta from scratch. For me. A telemarketer called and asked him a neverending list of questions; he told the woman on the phone that he had to go because his girlfriend was dragging him to the bed. He was so sweet sometimes and so cold others. I miss him terribly.
Where are the boys who give a damn.
For an hour or two, when we die, we are the star of the show. Pay attention to me, our corpses threaten. Long-forgotten relatives release a cache of emotions onto the floor of the viewing room and please the once-active pile of deteriorating dermis and makeup. If the blood remained in their veins they would squeeze out a smile.
As I sobbed today I suddenly thought about Benjamin. We met online. For spring break, I decided to visit him. I traveled two full days on a Greyhound bus. I thought I loved him. I was held at the border because they thought that he didn't know I was coming to visit and they had to wait for him to call them back to assure them that I was really supposed to come. Bus members were wary of my situation, since I was travelling alone to a large, scary place that I had never been to meet someone I'd never met before. When I arrived at the bus station, I was supposed to wait for him to come and pick me up (his grandmother died before I left, so he had to go to her funeral two hours away). I stepped off of the bus and claimed my bags. I was so excited to finally be in Calgary. I walked into the bus station and was looking for a seat. I felt a hand on my back and I whipped around, and there he stood. Him. The boy I had been waiting to be with for months. He wore a fancy crimson shirt and black pants. You can imagine my surprise to see him standing in front of me, as I expected him an hour or two later. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I dropped my things and hugged him an extended hug. I remember one particular moment. I was sitting on his couch, and he had his head in my lap. I was talking to his mother and scratching his head. And when we first arrived at his house, he tried to kiss me. I told him to wait until I showered, as I had been on a bus for two days. He made fresh pasta from scratch. For me. A telemarketer called and asked him a neverending list of questions; he told the woman on the phone that he had to go because his girlfriend was dragging him to the bed. He was so sweet sometimes and so cold others. I miss him terribly.
Where are the boys who give a damn.