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Dear You (My Pictures on my hard drive)

10/22/2010

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Dear You,

Tonight I brought up that picture, against my better judgement. I haven't looked at it in a long time, but it taunted me as I finished the audition tape and thought about next August. Edie Carey's "Lonely" played in the background and I was suddenly transported to that time, even though we never listened to that song together and the lyrics don't really apply to this situation.

It's funny because what I think about when I see this picture is you saying "we kiss so good." It's not funny, ha ha; but more funny, ironic or funny, weird... I remember your desperate attempts to make it work inside your mind, despite the fact that you knew from day one that it wasn't something you could do. I know that now, and just wish I knew it then...

I remember that day... the one in which my mom made a funny comment that made us both smile at this subtle acceptance and laugh at the knowledge that she was right.... about the kale and about the other stuff...

I remember you asking C to take pictures of me, and I remember gazing off at nowhere in particular in an attempt to look sexy in the pictures. I remember the refir truck and the connection, but I don't remember the kiss. I remember my mom telling you something about me that now feels like it was really fucked up, but I can't remember what that thing was or if you made it up in the first place....

I remember how afraid I was to have to you come visit, yet how much I needed that, but not why you never came. I remember knowing that you would hate my apartment... how cold it was and how my cats would have annoyed you, but not why you couldn't just love them because I loved them.

I remember how lonely I felt when I was with you, but I can't remember why I didn't leave earlier... and I remember why I did leave earlier, but not why it didn't stick.

It's all like a really amazing abstract painting to me now. I remember the general vibe, but none of the details, because that's the point-- you aren't supposed to remember the details.

But one thing I do remember, is how long it took to get over you, and how it felt that moment at Fest when I did get over you.

And the memory of that is all I need.

Love, Me.

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    Cora Leighton

    Thoughts about womyn, bodies, performance, life, play, and general randomness.
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