Marisa Kae

I learned this year, that some people stick around forever, and other people do not, they leave, much like snow does when the spring comes and melts it away. I also learned to take time out of the day to enjoy being alone and to embrace it, that feeling of oneness with myself and nature.

“She was laughing even as we kissed and kissed again. There is no better taste than someone else’s laughter in your mouth.”

You sat down and I followed suit. You never told me to, never even asked. I used to emphasize the word “had” in that sentence, but now I can understand. I swear, I get it. It’s not that you were indifferent, you seemed genuinely pleased to have me sitting down just the same way. But then, eventually, you stood up. Maybe you had errands to run, people to meet, dreams to fulfill. And I looked at you like you had torn up and lit aflame this unspoken, unwavering pact to which you had never even signed, not really. I was hurt, I was confused, I thought I was angry. You see, I had been sitting for so long, I was worried I forgot how to walk. That my legs had atrophied, leaving me stranded with only myself for company. But I’m standing here now, folding up that old chair I had propped next to yours, still resting in the same place. Maybe it’ll be there forever. Maybe one day, you’ll come by and pick it up. Maybe I’ll never learn what happens to it. I hope that’s the case.

Silence is the loudest thing an overthinker could ever hear—because nothing bounces off infinitely across their minds.