Summer days feel too long. Life feels out of proportion. I want to break out of July, tear the calendar in half and walk into a different time of year. Wandering city streets, humming sad songs in my head, I feel smothered — heat radiating from concrete, palpably sticky air that festers in the spaces between people in a crowd. It’s hard to breathe. Maybe it’s always hard for me to breathe.
I see a future somewhere else (anywhere else), and I see it with you. I want to see it with you. But I have this unshakable feeling I don’t belong in it. Or we don’t belong in it together. Maybe we used to.
But there’s still one perfect memory in my mind, in this city, the moment I literally couldn’t breathe because we were so perfect. You were so perfect. I like to revisit in my mind saying a goodbye that didn’t feel like goodbye on a crowded street that didn’t feel crowded. The air was sucked out of the world when you kissed me.
If I could stop time there, I would. I don’t know if anything will ever be able to compare. And it kills me.