Opacity

I feel like I should be writing something profound

I won’t.

You said you had leukemia. You said you loved me. I said I loved you. We talked about the ocean dividing. Our text, mutually comforted us. You said your leukemia was coming back. You have no idea what I felt. You said you found a donor. You have no idea what I felt. I talked to Wolfy. I knew about Me, Jackson and Wolfy. You have no idea what I felt. We didn’t talk. We argued. I forgot about you. I had a chance with someone I knew in the flesh. I created the term “jelly”. I told them. You came back. We argued more. Now I am torn between what is possible, yet so difficult, and impossible, which could be so easy.

Now, all I feel is immense self pity. All I feel is a deep hypocrite, eventhough no one knows. All I know is, I have a lot more to tackle than I thought.

It is no deeper than that. Now I remember the Iris Era. That era haunted my soul. That era has no pity on my welfare. No one has any idea how I felt. If they did, they would simply not believe me.

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