I Remember December
I don't know why this is coming back now.
I really, really don't.
It's been a long time.
It started with dreams about a month ago. Not consistent dreams. Just a couple. Three or four. I thought about writing about them but didn't. It was such a long time ago.
It's July. Why now? Whatever happened to December? Why am I standing in my bathroom with my hair wet from my shower and looking at myself in the mirror and hearing my kids on the other side of the door and looking for something in the mirror that proves I'm not sixteen anymore.
It was August when Blaine came up to my room back when I lived with Mom in New York, it was August when I took out my dress and I showed it to him, when I took out my ring and I showed it to him. One of the sleeves on the dress was ripped. I had it all bunched up in this box underneath my bed. He drew a series of charcoal drawings of me in that dress. At first I was alone, and then he started drawing himself with me.
It was June when he went away and I realized it felt good and I hated myself for realizing it felt good. I wrote him a letter about how I went to a street dance and flirted and I lost the letter and Blaine found it but at any rate I never sent it and I don't even know what Blaine did with it and I don't remember what it said. But I never sent the letter and instead I just stopped answering the door for him and stopped answering the phone and it wasn't fair but I was sixteen and it was the best I could do. It was the best I could do.
I really, really don't.
It's been a long time.
It started with dreams about a month ago. Not consistent dreams. Just a couple. Three or four. I thought about writing about them but didn't. It was such a long time ago.
It's July. Why now? Whatever happened to December? Why am I standing in my bathroom with my hair wet from my shower and looking at myself in the mirror and hearing my kids on the other side of the door and looking for something in the mirror that proves I'm not sixteen anymore.
It was August when Blaine came up to my room back when I lived with Mom in New York, it was August when I took out my dress and I showed it to him, when I took out my ring and I showed it to him. One of the sleeves on the dress was ripped. I had it all bunched up in this box underneath my bed. He drew a series of charcoal drawings of me in that dress. At first I was alone, and then he started drawing himself with me.
It was June when he went away and I realized it felt good and I hated myself for realizing it felt good. I wrote him a letter about how I went to a street dance and flirted and I lost the letter and Blaine found it but at any rate I never sent it and I don't even know what Blaine did with it and I don't remember what it said. But I never sent the letter and instead I just stopped answering the door for him and stopped answering the phone and it wasn't fair but I was sixteen and it was the best I could do. It was the best I could do.