i. last winter ii. i have taken a lot of polaroids and none of them have been of you iii. it feels like no one lives here anymore iv. their pictures are gone and it’s probably why i stopped taking my own v. bed for one
examining the changes in the way i document my own life and relationships in the last year as a result of my parents’ divorce.
every time i go home, something is new is missing. at first it was small, like their pictures, but then the tables the frames used to sit on were replaced with the modern-black-glossy-painted-wood-and-glass kind, the ikea kind. a model home. step one, redecorate the living room. step two, sleep there instead. in february i took a polaroid of my parents and watched it develop while they told me that things will be changing. it was the last picture that i took of them. i am scared of things that feel permanent, but endlessly sad that nothing ever is. this is why i cannot bring myself to think about five years from now. this is why i am always cautiously apologizing. this is why i feel guilty about saying “i love you.” it is weird to think that i took thousands of pictures last fall and now i am too scared to document anything at all- my mom said she feels like she let me down. it made me wonder who i’ll disappoint when this is over.
“There’s this girl who I was especially, especially into—I dated her for four months. She’s still at the top of my list, really. We were almost best friends, and I always had feelings for her, and it finally turned into something my senior year in high school, and then just completely turned back out of something. But one day she was bummed out about school, and she was going to be up all night writing a paper, and so I drove over to her house, and called her and told her I was there. I hadn’t talked to her all day, but I knew she was having a tough night, and I just drove over to kiss her goodnight, and that made her night. That’s it.”