bear

Three hours, 180 minutes, quite a lot of milliseconds... A lot can happen in that time. This sounds like an awful first sentence to an awful adventure/crime novel that some awful person decided to write, fully believing they would instantly become the next John Grisham. Now I feel bad for calling this person I just made up "awful." I am way too nice. But I am also way too mean sometimes. And I happen to be way too confusing, too! Too too too. Three three three. I drank some tea tea tea and now I'm getting carried away way way -

- there's gotta be a way to write about today. There was something so quietly profound about the seemingly insignificant events. Sitting next to a fake bear in a park and then later looking at a possibly real (couldn't decide!) bear in a window (while earlier discussing bearing our testimonies). The little details of him soften me and catch me off guard. He handed me an even number of seeds from the tree to throw up in the air on the count of three (three three). He listens. He's terribly wonderful. He's patient. I am unbearable, perhaps. I have to be. It's not easy for me to bare who I am - And I am just starting to figure out who this "Meg" person is. Apparently, she's someone who can't stop talking about bears.

Oh, but there was so much more about today that will slip through and pass by. Walking down Center Street, which holds so much nostalgia, felt like a graveyard. The people I used to love, the people I used to be, the people I have left, all buried under the invisible concrete of forgetting. Buried or BEAR-ied? Sorry.

And the pet store. I couldn't even form or listen to a sentence in that place. I was in awe. I can't believe these colors and patterns and creatures and limbs exist in nature. Who needs 3D glasses and a tub of artificially flavored popcorn when you've got science in front of you all the damn time?

I miss you.

I don't know who you are. I don't know if I'll ever know who you are.

We are going to be okay. Who we are and who we are not is okay and will be okay, up until the day we die on our 100th birthday, blowing out the candles, our hearts bursting wide open.