Something about today, when i was sitting in Law class, room 318, reminded me of sunken eyes. Deeply buried from the way your bones curve sharply, forming the outline of your face. The tall, slender, put-together persona of a man with leather shoes and tucked in button-downs. Something about today remembered your name, how it’s sung in a sing-song childish nursery rhyme. How when i type it in google, i can easily find you. Wearing that disgustingly loud orange two piece, with your skin sagging at the corners of the once smiling mouth, which only makes me sick to think that you’re smiling out of thoughts completely unknown to an 8 year old girl. Something about today made me reminisce about all of the times i looked up to you, all the times you praised me. They all crashed into me like stomping on crackers, like punching mirrors, like thousands of metal shards piercing glass windows, piercing human flesh. Meanings were suddenly put together with memories, making me feel so fucking sick. All i could hear was how close you were, how your eyes latched into, not onto, mine, when you said “Isn’t she pretty?” to the boy standing next to me.
I heard notes and rhythms from your piano. I heard music; I heard a whole new world.
You heard the young, innocent, fast-paced ticking of a clock.