caught in the rain

I left the city early. Once again, my friend was being difficult and I grew tired of her bullshit. I left in the middle of the night, got home in the early morning. I slept for a few hours, then drove to meet my ex. We put the seats back in his car and talked for awhile. I forgot how much I missed having a real conversation with someone, not one where I have to censor what I say, or constantly assume that whatever is said is yet another extravagant lie. It was overcast and smokey from the fires. Even the silence was companionable. It’s easy to forget how much you hate someone when they become more or less a staple in your life. You don’t have other options that are even close to as palatable, so it always feels refreshing, different.

We fucked in the woods. There was a lot of pain to it, but it was good and grounding. Easy to get lost in. When we drove away, we went by a field where the sprinklers cast their beams of water onto the road. The windows were down and my arm got wet. But just as we passed by, the drops got heavier and numerous. Instead, the sky was raining down. It smelled like dirt and wet grass, and despite everything, and the fact that it will never work again, it was a good moment to share with him.

There’s so little that feels good anymore. I want to drown in goodness, breathe it all in until I pass out and slip away.

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