midnight thoughts

i lived here

Sometimes, I wear my black overalls and people ask me if I have dressed up as Mario, mushroom-eater, travelling plumber and princess-savior; I tell them to go watch Olivia Gatwood and Megan Falley’s poem When Princess Peach Speaks. 

Other times people tell me Damn girl, you can pull those off, and I find that I am unjustifiably pleased with myself.

*

I look at that picture and wonder that the moment is gone already; I lived here, I keep telling myself over and over again. I lived here, and I have left now, and I will probably never return. It is something that stays with me: the idea that there are so many places I have seen that throughout my existence I will never see again.

Leaving for me is so often anticlimactic. It is all expedited hugs and sweating from carrying around too many suitcases. I had Tim Horton’s potato wedges and cream cheese jalapeño bagel for lunch for the last time.

How is it going, my dad asked when I called him, sat on the spot on the bench where there is the most light. You know, I said. Finishing up packing and then heading off, to which he replied Fuck, already? I didn’t think it would come so soon. Indeed. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear is what they say.

*

It figures that the two first and most glorious days of Spring would finally show up on our last days on the mountain. Cheeky, that.

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