I didn't write this. Though I wish I did. It captures quite rightly the way I've felt just a little while ago. And no, this is not about saying goodbye to college friends who you feel like you've known forever. This is about real friends.

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a story of a night : we stand in open doorways, darkness on either side, framed in a different shade of inky black than the rest of the night. our hearts want desperately to feel, but instead we hunker down inside of our leaf-filled dens, drinking deep, breathing smoke, and we call it home. we have hopeless plans but instead we call them dreams.

we walk in lines, out in the dark of the nighttime forests, connected in this brotherhood, unable to speak but forever able to understand the languages of breath and pulse. the music of a sunrise begins to pick up velocity, and the first red threads of sunlight braid themselves through the land, forcing out a night. we look at each other's faces barely able to remember a name; unable to forget a face. we were phone calls, we were letters, we were holes carved in trees, we were places to sleep inside of one another. now we feel like criminals. frauds. fakes. and cheats.

on your way out of town, will you look back, zooming past a wesco, past a blur of a subway, of a clothing store, of a renovated office-building? will you look back, and with your glorious, flaming eyes, erase everything we made in youth? will you reduce this green to ash? will you tear phone numbers and addresses from your memory, let them loose on the wind? all the while, ignoring the heart inside of you that pleads no no no just as we do? a memory so inscrutable.

hands washed of everything, you begin again.
this is something terrible, unforgivable.

-- a friend named jonas
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