“I have this stupid mechanism of ignoring things because dwelling on it will hurt.
You know what I’m talking about.
I move on. Because it’s the easiest thing to do. The coward’s move.
I do it. Nobody wants to get hurt. I’m not putting myself against that equation.
They say it hurts because it matters. And talking about it will help. So this is me, talking to myself and acknowledging that it did matter. Exhibit A was person I never imagined I would have a life with. Every other exhibit stayed for a year (tops) and left. If they didn’t leave they’d become antiques and who ever appreciates that?
Exhibit A was cool. Which is why I thought A wouldn’t be my friend. I could try. But that’s a long shot. Exhibit A gave me extra cola. It was in passing. An action of no significance. Exhibit A let me mess A’s hair and rub my hands across A’s face. What a gross friendship, specially with me and my sweaty palms. But it intrigued A.
I could go on.
Exhibit A made me feel comfortable. Comforted me. Spread its legs across the sofa and accepted me with my no bra policy. Exhibit A talked. Asked a lot of questions. Was concerned. Was anxious. Was there.”
The jury looks at me. The judge asks, “Where is Exhibit A right now?” For the evidence box is empty. No proof of its existence. No validation for the past.
Like it never happened.
I’m a little scared Exhibit A thinks that too. I didn’t want A to forget anything.
So I simply said I don’t know.
The judge towered over me, “Elaborate.”
But if I could, I wouldn’t be pleading guilty for the noose.