Short story...ME

I met a new friend and I thought she would bring me change. I had become restless with my surroundings and tired of my own company. She knew nothing about me and I was instantly reborn. I could be from anywhere, I could have lived through anything and it was my story to tell. It's a funny thing trying to describe to someone who you are. I would imagine if there were any one sentence to sum it all up you wouldn't be worth getting to know. So I shared anything funny and anything interesting. I had a new friend.

I sat outside of my house with a friend. I tried to say something clever to break the tension but all I could come up with was something about the cars parked on the wrong side of the road. I was struck with a flashback of an 8th grade roller rink birthday party. I laced my skates and listened as they announced couples only on the floor. The lights dimmed and anxiously everyone glanced around hoping for someone to ask them to skate. I finished lacing my skates and stood with my friends, watching the couples make their laps around the rink. We listened to the entire song, motionless.

It was winter again and my hands were freezing. I ran to my car to grab my overnight bag and then back into the heavy door to his apartment. His place smelled strongly like pot and kitty litter, it could have been sickening if I didn't adjust. He shuffled through his records and then told me he was ready for bed. His room was larger than his living room and in his bed I felt safe. I stared out the window at the blinking red light, letting planes know not to come down so low. Philadelphia, a busy city, seemed so quiet as the light blinked. On and off, on and off. I heard him starting to snore softly next to me, I closed my eyes.

My sister got married. It was the winter time and the air was bitter, they still seemed to be all smiles. As I rode in the van with my grandparents I realized she'd never be on this end. I watched the leafless trees pass blindingly from the window while the heat blared. It was at that moment I realized who I am comes largely from where I come from but more importantly from where I hoped I'd end up. I had no hopes of ending up anywhere. She did make a beautiful bride.

The summer wasn't as hot as it had been in past years. I recall swimming twice, the water made me weightless and free from a body. On the hottest night of the year I sat in the dark pulling a hard drag from a cigarette listening to the intense song of the cicada. I thought of the hot summers down in Virginia where the wavy lines of the heat in the distant were almost as prominent as the cry of the local insects. I walked around that place enough to feel I was circling home. That was the last time I ever felt home. It's funny how you can attach yourself to a place, as if that were the heart of who you are. It is, afterall, only a structure.



It's New Years, I'm at my best friends house. It's cold but not cold enough to keep us from hanging around on her front porch. Everyone I know is there and we're toasting to the end of another successful year. I toast with the entire bottle of Jack Daniels, afterall, one should always hope for the best. The count down starts; 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. We hug, it seems some people are truly happy. I hug my best friend the tightest. It's always good to hold onto those who are as lonely as you are and at the very least, good to hold onto those more sober.


I'm simple, I'm pure. I'm ten years old again walking into a church with hopes that God is proud of me. Just as sure as I see my friends from sunday school, I know he sees me in my best dress. He's as real as any person I know and he loves me. Exhausted, I don't think he sees me anymore.


When do we become our own person, I have wondered for many years. Is it when we realize our parents are only human and nothing like we had seen as a child or is it when we accept ourselves for being the same way? I am not who I thought I would be, but is that a bad thing? I'm twelve and my friend is lighting newspapers on fire in the woods. I stand staring at the growing blaze feeling a sinking feeling in my stomach. If we are caught, the shame would be worse than the punishment. I have morals, they are conflicted with the desire to watch the outcome of the blaze.


My new friend shifted, she enjoys hearing my stories. I'm new, I'm interesting but she has barely scratched the surface. How do you explain to someone who you are? As I said, if you could, you wouldn't be very interesting.