subject line: answering machines.


perseverance, pennsylvania

We stood at the busiest corner of the city when he told me he was leaving, and now whenever I pass that corner, I look away. I know that if I look directly at it, I’ll see some past version of myself standing there crying. I know that I have talked about him a lot since then, but this isn’t really his story. It’s not really about him. I met a boy who I think has captured some resistant part of my heart since then. I moved on in all types of ways. I made friends with the new faces, I got the new job, I made the plans to leave the country. I have dates lined up or something along those lines. I don’t really know why any of it matters though. They say that’s the thing that you’re supposed to do, right? You just fall in love every day. You find the thing that makes you happy to live every day. I keep waiting for him to tell me I was that thing. I keep waiting for round two: fight, without the fight.I know I have a lot of other things and faces to wait on. But that damn corner, man. I won’t be passingbit forever. I know that much. All I know is that I hear about people who walk down the aisle, thinking of who else it might have been. I’m scared I might be that person one day. I know it’s dumb. I know I fall too hard when I fall. But I know when to walk away, usually. I’m not an idiot. I just keep seeing myself standing there. It’s not his story. There’s a lot more to it. Just at the end of the day, if I was falling asleep to the sound of someone’s voice, all I know is that I would choose real carefully.