I wish you a journey of yellow lights with a bored, smalltown cop riding behind you the entire time. I wish you lactose sensitivities and a gluten allergy at a restaurant that says they have a full gluten-sensitive menu but really only serves two salads. I hope that one of them is your all-time favorite salad and that while you’re enjoying it, a delicious bite goes down the wrong pipe and causes your life to flash before your eyes. I hope that someone in the room learned CPR about three years ago and saves your life, but also cracks a few ribs in the process. The therapist said that I’m not supposed to waste my time wishing you ill so instead, I wish you regularly inconvenienced.
When will the amnesia set it? When will the many tears I shed be replaced by feelings of nostalgia?
“I mean the town is fine or whatever. It’s just that the quality of people is very low.”
My smiles have been fake all day and now my cheeks, in addition to my soul, hurt.
“And what exactly am I supposed to do about that? Sometimes two roads just diverge in the woods.”
I already feel badly about the things I didn’t accomplish after college so what exactly would be the point of going to the reunion?
“Why can’t I feel the things other people feel?”