Speaking of wasted time my life in California was over, and the monster was new, he was just starting. I just discovered him. I think it was too late. The night before I left for the airport I was sleeping on a futon in the attic of my aunt’s place. Her studio. She was an artist. I had the phone next to my bed and I was calling people, saying my last goodbyes. The last person I talked to before I went to sleep was him. The monster. He said sometimes when you smile at me, my heart skips a beat. He said sometimes when I talk to you, I forget to breathe. Upon hearing that my heart skipped a beat and I forgot to breathe. I didn’t realize that the monster had been paying attention to me. How was I so oblivious and self absorbed? I liked to think that I was deep. That I was an insightful individual. A bit more special than the average teen. Stupid girl. I was just the same. No different than those bimbos who run around the school crying about having no friends, they don’t even realize everyone’s in love with them. I was overwhelmed. I was flattered, kind of embarrassed, mostly I felt stupid, ignorant. He shattered what I thought about myself. Big, tough, know it all. Not even close. Ignorant, Selfish, very imperfect. Now we’re hitting a little closer to home. Here was the monster on the other end of the line. I don’t know who called who. I don’t know what possessed him to tell me these things. He was brave. I wondered how much the words meant to him. I wondered if he figured it was the last time he’d ever see me so he could say whatever he wanted and not face any repercussions. In which case, to him, it didn’t really matter what I thought. But it mattered to me. What did I think? What was the monster to me? A familiar stranger. I’d seen him with his girlfriend. I’d seen him with his friends. He was kind. He was always there. He was quiet. He looked out for people. He flew under the radar. Or maybe it was just me. Maybe I blinked and missed him flying across the screen every single day. If only I wasn’t such a blinker. If only I would have looked one seat over from Jon. Because if I had, I would have seen the monster. If I hadn’t been so distracted thinking about my thighs, we could have talked about something. If I could have listened just a little bit harder, maybe I would have heard the unsaid. And now it was too late. I was moving, he was moving. My airplane was leaving in less than 5 hours. How could we start from here? How do you start from the end? How do you finish with a beginning? I had no way of knowing.
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