Intermission: A List
The summer he left, I
- Tried to learn how to poach eggs.
- Smoked half a pack of cigarettes.
- Bought five pairs of earrings.
- Drank whiskey out of Coke bottles walking through Central Park.
- Cried on the subway on my way home at 1am.
- Cried on a park bench after running two miles.
- Walked from Alphabet City to 110th & Central Park North at midnight.
- Punched a table and bruised my fist.
- Fell asleep on the bathroom floor because my bed felt unfamiliar.
- Kept the TV volume at 90.
I didn’t like to be in silence unless I was trying to fall asleep. The more free time I had, the easier it was for my thoughts to jump to the front of the queue like an overzealous line leader. I was always looking for more. He watered my ideas until they blossomed, watched as I found ways to occupy my mind.
When the distractions didn’t work, the thoughts encompassed me. I’d stare at the TV until my eyes burned, the characters on screen nothing more than muted pixels. The volume in my head went up to 80. He held me, waited until the sounds were merely whispers.
I was misplaced in my body, rearranging the furniture to see where I fit best. Cursed with the desire to constantly change, I could never be satisfied with the person I was five minutes prior. He made a home in me, left the furniture as though it was decorated just the way he liked it.