bottles of fruitopia

i was recently blasted with a memory of bright orange runt boxes and those hard fruit-shaped candies. then i remembered gobstoppers and bottles of fruitopia and boxy outlines of my name drawn next to palm trees. little thoughts of things i did with you.

last night was the first time i admitted to myself that i haven’t really felt normal in a long time. it took me five months to pay my 10 cent library fee. afterward it took me two days to go back for the book i placed on hold. sometimes it’s hard for me to step outside and do things outside of my pandemic-created routine, but i am trying very hard to break the cycle of existing inward, pushing myself outside the barrier of my invisible comfort zone (which is really actually now uncomfortable).

my sister’s birthday is on may 17th. i was going to wait to explain the peculiarity of being unable to mutter “happy birthday” to someone whose location you’re unaware of, whose mental capacity and physical state are not even conducive of having a “happy birthday.” my reasoning for waiting, i’m not sure, perhaps possible prolonging of the admittance that i am no longer hopeful, only scared and tired, selfishly tired of waiting for eventual, unavoidable bad news.

life is like a loop sometimes, moving through dull days we don’t realize will be vivid, precious memories in our future. creating distance when things get hard because it’s easier to run. suddenly desperate for proximity when you realize time is running out. a reminder to close the gap before ten years pass. it’s spring now, the sun is shining, and i wish i could call you.

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